“It was time, my dear. We should have pushed you harder, made you face up to what had happened. But once Robert took over your detail, we got complacent, and we let you slip away. To think, it was your interactions with that footballer that made us all stop and reevaluate. I’m sure you will be livid about the heavy-handed manipulation when you’ve had time to really digest it. But it came from a good place.”
Ele almost scoffed. She should be mad. But right at the moment, most of her anger was directed at Jamie. The queen was the queen, and she was going to do what she wanted. For some reason, Ele didn’t hold Robert accountable. But Jamie’s betrayal hurt more than anything.
“Still,” the queen went on, “as much as I am indebted to Mr. Davenport, it has to be over. You are still a princess, the second in line for the throne, the mother of the future king or queen. And I’ve entered into an agreement with Lord Barrington. With the current political situation, I am afraid I can’t renege on our agreement. A joining of our two houses will go far to stabilize the call for succession.” Queen Lilian’s stare bore down on Ele. “I’m afraid you must put a stop to this relationship.”
Ele locked eyes with her grandmother and held on. There were tomes of information exchanged but not one morsel of apology. A glint shone in the eyes, so like her own, and Ele knew the pillars of hopes for her relationship with Tristan were about to be bowled over.
“Unless, of course …” The queen’s index finger came up to rest against her mouth, like some divine inspiration was about to flow from her lips. Lilian looked to Jamie, her brow raised. “There’s always Juliana.” The queen merely raised her brow before she withdrew to move behind her desk, the grandmother portion of this discussion clearly at an end.
Ele’s wide eyes met Jamie’s.
“So, it’s me or Juliana?”
“You simplify.” Lilian sat regally in her plush chair, placed her elbows on her desk, and clasped her hands together.
“Sophie’s choice,” Ele mumbled.
Here it was—the elusive test. Duty over self.
If the queen deigned to roll her eyes, she would have. “This is about the preservation of our country, in a way that doesn’t involve violence or arrests.”
“The public, in every part of our country, loved the thought of Tristan and me. It could help.”
“A pop in public opinion, yes. A long-term solution to a problem that has plagued the monarchy for decades? No.”
She dragged her eyes away from her grandmother and found Jamie’s. She’d expected contriteness, regret, begging. Instead, her twin’s gaze dared her. The boy she’d held through chemo, who she’d shored up after his illness, whose legacy she would preserve with the birth of her children, did not want her forgiveness or her capitulation. He challenged her to take what was hers, what she wanted, to be the girl he relied on to do what she needed.
She wanted the chance to see what she and Tristan could be, but could she sacrifice her sister’s future for the possibility of hers?
“It’s not your place to give me permission to feel what I feel or to approve of it. Quite frankly, I could leave all of this behind and thrive. I don’t need the palace, the money, the privilege. You need me far more than I need you.”
“We do,” the queen concurred.
She needed to be strong enough to take what she wanted. And in that moment, she realized she was. She would do the best thing for everyone. “I think there is another way. Rather than auction off me or Juliana for an advantageous marriage, we can—”
The door behind her opened, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Juliana stood in the entryway, dressed for the night in a gold sheath that skimmed along her body like a second skin. Her hair was up, and rather than the dainty tiara Ele had chosen, Juliana wore a thick, diamond-encrusted headband. Her trademark freckles stood stark against the pale contrast of her skin.
“I’ll do it,” Juliana said, her voice compelling and decisive.
Everyone exchanged confused glances.
Jamie recovered first. “Do what?”
“Announce my engagement to Barrington tonight.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ele said. Standing, she made her way to Juliana, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the room. Ele reached out and closed the door behind them. Then, she stepped close to her sister. “Stop trying to save me. I’ve got this,” she whispered. And she did.
She turned back to the queen. “If saving the kingdom is so important, why don’t you give the people what they want?”
Lilian’s eyes narrowed. “And what is it they want?”
Ele knew she was going down a treacherous road, but this was what she was meant to do. “Pass the crown to Jamie. Now.”
Ele waited for the doors to fly open and for the Queen’s guard to haul her to the dungeon. Instead, there was only quiet acceptance. The queen heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in her chair. Ele tensed, waiting for someone to say something.
“It won’t completely quell the secessionists, but yes, we are starting to put that plan into place.”
Ele couldn’t believe her ears. She looked to Robert, who gave a brief nod, and then to Jamie, who looked a little green.
Lilian rose and walked to the window, her back to the room. “It’s a concession, and it will help. But it won’t solve the problem, and it won’t be the end of it. The fanatics will still want their independence. But I suppose a union between you and your footballer might provide some distraction. Everyone loves a royal wedding.”
“Uh …” Ele didn’t know how to respond to that, but she realized the idea didn’t scare her in the least.
“We are playing the long game, I’m afraid,” said the queen. She turned back to them. “We are not going to solve this problem tonight. But it’s good to have the four of you together and to see how you all are so willing to sacrifice your own happiness for each other.” She locked eyes with each of them in turn. “Don’t forget to keep fighting for each other and for your legacy. It belongs to all of you.”
Then, she walked forward and embraced Robert, Jamie, Juliana, and finally Ele. She grabbed Ele’s hands. “Now, we should probably make an appearance at our gala.”
37
8 December
Tristan let himself into his flat and dropped his keys on the small table by the door. His duffel bag fell from his shoulder and somehow found its way into a nook, like he’d placed it there. Tiredness settled into his limbs. He loved playing for his country, and winning the World Championship Cup had been his every dream come true. But he was exhausted. It wasn’t the normal pre-December grind either. He’d been playing football for almost eighteen straight months. He wouldn’t have it any other way, but with the heavily scheduled month of December around the corner, his body felt every step. Tonight, the fatigue weighed thicker after watching Rowan sustain what could be a season-ending injury. The physios had been quiet about the extent of the damage, and Rowan’s mobile was defaulting to voice mail. Tristan’s worry for his friend and mentor added to his disquiet.
Even with his fatigue and Rowan’s injury, a low-level hum was streaming through his blood. Ele was back. He wouldn’t get to see her anytime soon, but just knowing she was here, within touching distance, settled and unnerved him. No more time-zone calculations, less worry. She would hate to know he’d been concerned about her being alone. Even with Robert close, things could have happened. Tristan would rest easier tonight.