If they stayed together, and he married a princess, Marshall would be giving up a dukedom for a role even less impactful than Teddy’s.
“Sometimes I just wish we didn’t have to deal with all of this.” Sam swept an arm to indicate her tiara, her gown, her sash and jewels. “It makes everything so much more complicated. It would just be easier if—if—”
Beatrice finished the sentence for her. “If you weren’t a princess.”
“Exactly,” Sam said quietly.
“Sam, that’s who you are. Unless…” Beatrice paused, comprehension dawning. “Unless you’re saying that you want to walk away from it all. Renounce your place in the line of succession to be with Marshall.”
Sam’s heart thudded as she answered. “I don’t want to make your job harder than it already is.”
Beatrice grabbed her wrists, circling them to clutch Sam’s hands in her own. “You listen to me, okay? This is about you and Marshall, not me or the fact that I’m queen. I’m not King Louis. You may be my successor, but you’re my sister before anything else.”
Sam didn’t understand what Beatrice meant about not being King Louis, but she stayed silent.
“Sam—I’m going to ask you something that probably seems unfair,” Beatrice went on. “A normal person wouldn’t have to think like this, but as we’ve established, you and I are far from normal. Our family has always made major decisions at a young age. So I need you to think, and think hard.” She squeezed Sam’s hands for emphasis. “Is Marshall your forever?”
“My forever?” Sam repeated.
Beatrice’s eyes were blazing. Sam realized that this was how her sister had looked when she’d stared down Robert Standish, when she’d postponed her wedding and gone out for a balcony appearance alone. She was adamantly fierce, resolute. Sam would have gone into battle for her without a second thought.
“If Marshall is really your forever—if you want to build a life with him—then you’re right. You can’t be a princess. And I will support you in that decision every step of the way. I’ll take your renunciation bill to Congress myself; I’ll train Jeff to be my new heir; I’ll be your greatest champion and your strongest advocate.”
Sam knew this was true, because that was what it meant to have a sister.
“But, Sam, walking away from the role you were born to: that’s a monumental choice. You cannot make it lightly. And I won’t support you unless you’re unquestionably, totally sure. Unless you can look me in the eye and tell me that Marshall really is your forever.”
Hearing that phrase, your forever, was sobering. But Sam knew her answer. She’d known it this whole time, hadn’t she?
“He is. I’m all in.”
“Then so am I,” Beatrice said simply, and let go of her hands.
Sam cleared her throat. “Wow,” she said, and it came out scratchy. “I mean—that was easier than I expected.”
“What did you think, that I was going to pull rank on you?” Beatrice asked. “Have a little more faith in me.”
“No—I just mean, I thought you might tell me to give up on Marshall. The way Dad told you to give up on Connor.”
A shadow passed over Beatrice’s expression. “Why is everyone bringing up Connor today?”
“What?”
“Never mind,” Beatrice said quickly. “Sam, obviously I would miss you, if you were no longer a princess. Knowing that you’re my heir, that you have my back—that’s one of my favorite parts of this job. But more than anything, I want you to be happy. You love Marshall, and if this is what it takes for the two of you to be together…” She sighed. “Love comes first.”
“Even before family?”
“Even before duty,” Beatrice corrected. “You and I will always be family, whether you’re a princess or a duchess or the captain of a speedboat in Hawaii. Hey, don’t cry,” she said softly, seeing Sam wipe at her eyes. “This is a happy decision.”
“I just…I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Sam said helplessly, and her sister nodded.
“No one does. That’s the fun of life.”
For the first time, Sam pictured a world she’d never given herself permission to imagine before—one where she wasn’t a princess. Someday, in the future, she could marry Marshall and become a duchess.
Or she and Marshall could both walk away, together.
What if she could become someone else, someone entirely new, someone she hadn’t yet discovered? Who would she be if she wasn’t Her Royal Highness, the Princess Samantha?
This new self unfurled within her, stretched its leaves eagerly toward the sun.
When she and Sam returned to the ballroom, Beatrice’s eyes immediately landed on Teddy, who was talking with Marshall and a few other lords attendant. Sam smiled and started toward them, but Beatrice hung back. She was reeling from everything that had happened tonight—with Louise, with Teddy, and now with Samantha. Was Sam really going to walk away from the monarchy?
Beatrice didn’t know whether she was happy for her sister, or afraid for her, or a tiny bit jealous. Even if she wasn’t going to follow Sam’s example and renounce her position as queen, part of her envied the freedom Sam might someday enjoy, if she really went through with this.
But then, Sam had always been the braver one. Beatrice was supposed to be older and wiser, yet the truth was that she looked up to Sam: her vibrant, passionate, determined little sister, who loved with her whole heart. Sam loved as easily as she breathed. Unlike Beatrice, who always held a piece of herself back, from Connor and even from Teddy.
She hadn’t meant to; it was just the way she’d been trained. How many times had her father emphasized that this job was lonely and she needed to be self-sufficient? So Beatrice had relied on herself, and her new friendship with Louise.
In the process she’d managed to isolate Teddy, make him feel like someone who worked for her rather than with her.
For some ridiculous reason, Beatrice wished she could talk to Louise—the Louise she’d known before the treaty vote. She wanted the Louise who’d drawn eyeliner over her lids, taken her stargazing on the lawn of Versailles, spoken with such authority about men, and how women in power needed to stick together. That version of Louise would have understood the tension between Beatrice and Teddy, and known exactly what Beatrice should say to repair the damage.
But Beatrice realized, now, that she’d given Louise too much sway in their dynamic. She’d been so thrilled to enter Louise’s circle of friends and feel like she belonged that she hadn’t acted like the queen she should be.