Perhaps that was what prompted Beatrice to lift the hem of her gown and start up the stairs to the stage.
The band members exchanged glances, clearly unsure whether to keep playing. One by one they fell silent. Beatrice made eye contact with the cellist, who scooted back so that she could speak into his microphone.
“Hello.”
There was a screech of feedback from the mic; she winced and looked out at the crowd. Their various conversations quickly cut off; everyone was staring at her with naked curiosity, wondering how she would embarrass herself next. She saw a few blinking lights as people got out their phones and began recording. It wasn’t typical for the host monarch to give any kind of closing speech, especially not after the seated dinner, when the night was escalating into party mode.
“Hello, Your Majesties, and esteemed guests.” Beatrice felt her face curling automatically into a smile, then squashed the impulse. Who had decided that women were supposed to smile during a formal speech anyway? She would be as serious and stone-faced as any man, and let them call her names for it.
“As you may know, this was my first time at the League of Kings conference as a queen, and the experience has been…illuminating,” she said carefully. “And surprising. And, in many ways, disappointing.”
Eyebrows shot up at that remark; a few people exchanged whispers. Beatrice ignored them.
“I have always believed in the League of Kings. I believe that we can achieve what our forebears intended when they founded this institution. They wanted to combine efforts and make the world a better place, because they knew we could accomplish so much more together than any of us could as individual nations.
“I came here expecting a community of nations, yet what I have seen instead are disjointed groupings of monarchs, each of them jealously guarding what they see as their own resources, their own interests.” She thought of King Louis XXIII as she added, “I have seen people motivated by fear, sometimes to the detriment of those they love. I have seen a sense of competition and petty jealousy lurking beneath conversations, when we should be striving toward the collective good.
“The modern world is more connected than ever. To the monarchs who say that the business of other nations doesn’t concern them, I say that we are all global citizens now, and we need to act that way. We need to work together for the good of the earth and all its people, not just the people who call us their king or queen.
“I pledge to you that America, and I, remain committed to the goal our ancestors believed in over a century ago. And I hope that the next time we meet, we can all continue the good work that we started this year.”
Beatrice looked at the far wall rather than the faces in the crowd, because she didn’t want to see everyone’s disapproval or pity. She had said what she needed to say, as naïve and earnest as it might have been.
If nothing else, at least she’d ended this conference by being true to herself.
She turned toward the side of the stage, but before she could make her way down, a voice rose high and clear into the silence.
“France makes a motion that the gathered assembly hold a new vote on item thirty-one, ‘Protection of the Global Climate for Future Generations.’ ”
It was Louise, speaking with the formal language they had used during all their plenary sessions, asking for a revote on the climate accord.
Beatrice saw contrition and hope in Louise’s eyes. She was trying, in her own way, to make things right between them.
There was a rumble of shock through the room, everyone turning to one another with eager commentary.
“This is highly irregular,” Empress Mei Ling cried out. A footman sprang forward with a cordless microphone—Beatrice wondered where he’d gotten it—and the empress snatched it from his hands. “Voting cannot happen outside the general session! This is a social gathering with—with—wine!” she exclaimed. “We cannot vote!”
King Frederick reached for the microphone. Empress Mei Ling passed it to him, probably assuming that he would echo her sentiments.
“Germany seconds the motion proposed by France,” he said instead, gruffly.
“But there are people present who aren’t monarchs!”
Before the empress could say more, the tsar stepped forward. “Russia moves that the assembly vote by show of hands rather than roll call.” He didn’t need a microphone; his voice boomed loud and confident over the gathered crowds.
“Very well.” Frederick had taken charge again, and this time, no one made a move to stop him, though Empress Mei Ling’s lips were still pursed in disapproval. “Let us begin voting on item thirty-one, ‘Protection of the Global Climate for Future Generations,’ proposed by Her Majesty Queen Beatrice of America. Of the monarchs here assembled, will all those in favor of the proposal raise their hands.”
Beatrice watched, hardly daring to breathe, as hand after hand rose into the air. Something she’d said must have resonated with everyone, because they were all voting in her favor. King Joaquin of Argentina shrugged and lifted his hand lazily; the Queen of England smiled at Beatrice with a mischievous sort of glee, as if she was secretly delighted to see some drama at these conferences for once.
Finally even Empress Mei Ling sighed and lifted her hand, unwilling to be the single vote against Beatrice’s proposal.
Beatrice felt close to tears, gratitude and disbelief warring in her chest. She couldn’t believe that finally, after everything, it was actually happening.
Through the roaring of adrenaline in her ears, she heard Frederick saying, “And so it is decided. Item thirty-one has been adopted by this twenty-fourth convocation of the League of Kings. This session is now officially adjourned.”
When Beatrice made it down the stage, Louise was standing there.
“Your speech was impressive. And inspiring,” she said quietly. “I didn’t have the honor of knowing your father well, but I have a feeling he would have been proud of you.”
Beatrice nodded, because the thing was, she knew that her father was proud of her. She’d felt his presence in the room as clearly as if he’d been standing next to her, a comforting hand on her shoulder, telling her that she was strong enough to do anything.
The crowds had begun jostling toward her, everyone clamoring for her attention. Now that she was no longer a pariah—was, in fact, the unexpected star of this year’s conference—they all wanted to get in her good graces again.
“Thank you for proposing the revote,” she told Louise.
They were drifting apart as more people streamed toward them, but Louise smiled tentatively and asked, “Maybe we can catch up before I leave tomorrow? We could take Monseigneur Franklin on a morning run?”
Beatrice nodded, smiling. “That sounds nice.”