Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Freya
Everyone in the room stands when I enter. It is something I am used to, particularly when it comes to the press, but as I stride across the room, I feel out of place. Not because I chose to forgo a tiara today or because my hair is not as polished as it usually is when I face the world.
But seeing a room full of people bowing to me as if I am better than them makes it very clear that I do not deserve the life I was given. I feel entirely inadequate.
My parents, adorned in crowns, sit at the front of the room, proud and confident and so sure of their place in life.
I always thought I was just like them, but after the last few weeks, I am not certain of anything when it comes to who I am and where I should be.
Now I understand why my brothers have always seemed to float through life, though they are good at looking as regal as our parents as they stand behind Mum and Dad.
Markham is in the middle of a formal bow when I reach the podium where the winner will give his or her speech, and I gently touch his uninjured arm. “Please,” I beg him, shaking my head when he looks up at me in confusion. “Of all people, you should never bow to anyone.”
As my friends find seats on the front row, Elliot takes his place behind me on the stage, his expression as stoic as it was the first time I met him. But he cannot hide the pride from his eyes as he slowly scans the room. I feel his approval down to my toes.
Markham stands up straight. We have not spoken since the ball, and I wonder what he is thinking as he studies me. I have never been able to read him well, but at the moment I can hardly put a word to anything in his expression. “Your Highness.”
“Please,” I say again. “No matter the result tonight, you and I are still friends.”
“Yes,” he agrees, finally allowing a small smile. He offers me a handshake, and when I take it without hesitation, soft whispers start up among the press.
The reporters’ impatience buzzes through the room; most of them have likely been watching the results on their phones as they come in.
But per my instructions, there is nothing in the room that indicates how the election might turn out.
Markham and I will know nothing until the final counts are in and the Candoran press secretary enters the room to announce who will be taking the throne.
Elliot’s instructions were to keep me away from this conference room until only moments before the announcement is to be made, and Elliot does not have the capability of going against his word any more than I do.
As I move to stand next to my parents to wait for Secretary Ashlund to appear, a soft word from Markham pulls me to a stop again. “Freya?”
“Yes?”
His eyebrows pull low, his jaw tight, and I wonder if he regrets speaking my name when it takes him a long time to say anything. “I, er, I’m sorry. For running against you. I didn’t think you understood what our people needed, and I thought this was the best way to help. You’ll make a great queen.”
Oh. Two weeks ago, I would have loved to hear him admit that, but now? “Markham, you do not need to apologize for anything you have done. Whichever of us wins, I—”
“I withdrew my candidacy yesterday.”
Those words, spoken so quietly that no one in the audience would have heard him, feel like a slap to the face. “Withdrew?” I whisper. “What do you mean?”
“I took my name off the ballot.”
“What?”
Markham shakes his head, looking for all the world like he has made irreparable mistakes in his life but is doing his best to fix them anyway.
“You were always the better choice, Freya. If I had made the time to get to know you sooner, I would have seen that long before I ever got this far. I can still make an impact in Commons.”
But… My mind is spinning again, but the thoughts whirling through it now are different from anything before this moment.
If he is telling the truth—and I think he is—that means I have already won.
Unless the unheard of happens and at least eighty-five percent of the people voted against my reign in favor of a complete revision of the government, I will be queen.
But I will not have been chosen.
“I won by default?” I ask, unable to hide the horror in my words. This would not have bothered me a month ago, but how can I be content knowing my people lost their chance to choose? The freedom to choose was one of the main reasons I couldn’t bring myself to marry Markham.
That, and my love for the man standing behind me.
Markham’s eyes are full of pity and apology and a good deal of confusion, but he seems to have lost his words as he stares at me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my mother and father frowning in my direction, likely wondering why I look like I have been given the most terrible news.
Hex and Sander are in conversation with each other, their postures tense but their expressions thoughtful, and they must have gleaned enough from watching us to know what has happened.
Elliot steps forward so he’s close enough to speak to me but not so close that anyone will think he is stepping beyond the bounds of his position.
I wish he would come closer, but I know why he cannot.
“Actually, you didn’t,” he says carefully.
When I meet his gaze, he lifts his eyebrows slightly.
“Markham’s name was on the ballot, just like yours. ”
Markham shakes his head, looking as confused as I feel. “No, I definitely removed it.”
“Okay, yes, you did. But I put it back on.”
“That’s not possible. How did you know I even—”
“Frankly, I still don’t trust you.” But Elliot smirks in a way that belies his words. “I wondered if you would do something like this, so I had one of the palace guards keep an eye on you.”
Markham frowns. “But you have no authority to change the ballot.”
“You’re right.” Elliot shrugs. “The queen put your name back, at my suggestion.”
“Why?”
It was Markham who asked the question, but Elliot looks at me when he says, “Because the people deserve to choose.”
In the first sign of aggression I have ever seen from him, Markham growls and looks like he is considering throwing his fist into Elliot’s nose. “I don’t want to be king, American.”
Elliot does not waver. “You won’t be, Grim.”
“How can you be sure?” I whisper.
The look he gives me feels like a hug, so full of warmth and support that his thoughts are tangible between us. “Because you are the best person for Candora, and your people know that. Trust me.”
I trust this man more than I trust anyone, especially myself, but he cannot know what is going to happen.
As much as I want to be the queen the people choose, I would rather automatically take the position than leave my country scrambling to adapt.
What if Markham wins the vote but declines?
I do not know what would happen, whether I would be given the crown as the next best choice or if we would fall into a state of disorder that I have worked so hard to avoid.
“Elliot,” I hiss, “why would you—”
The back door opens, and the whole room turns to watch Secretary Ashlund step into the room, a locked tablet in his hand.
I grab Elliot’s hand just before my body freezes up and leaves me unable to move.
Ashlund climbs the stairs onto the stage, pausing at the top and taking in the scene before him. Me, holding my bodyguard’s hand for dear life. Markham, holding his injured arm with a green tint to his skin. My mum, hands clasped together and pressed to her mouth.
Ashlund is a quiet man in his late forties who keeps to himself until he’s in front of a camera.
At that point, he flips on a switch and becomes confident and well-spoken and able to answer any question thrown at him.
But what he sees tonight seems to knock him off balance, and his first step forward falters until he remembers himself and stands tall at the podium.
“Good evening,” he says into the microphone as the cameras flash.
Elliot squeezes my hand, then tugs his fingers free and steps back to his place.
I still feel like my body has turned to ice, but I manage to shift and stand at Markham’s side, facing the press.
“On behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Ingrid,” Ashlund says, “I wish to thank the citizens of Candora for their participation in this unprecedented election and the continued upholding of the democracy of our nation. As you are all aware, we are here to announce the next Candoran Monarch to succeed Queen Ingrid Alverra, who has chosen to step down from her rule. Her Majesty recorded her Abdication Address in private this morning and therefore will not be speaking to us tonight, but the address will be available online and broadcast tomorrow at noon.”
She did? I glance at my mother, whose eyes are on her lap now as she softly cries.
I knew it would be difficult for her to step down, but I wonder if this transition will be harder than I realized.
Particularly if she gave her speech in private, when she has never been one to shy away from the public.
Perhaps, like with my brothers, I have a lot to learn about my mother as well.
“As of six o’clock on the evening of September twenty-first in the three hundred and forty-seventh year of Candora, all votes have been counted and verified.
” My head starts buzzing. “I would like to remind the people of Candora that should they feel an appeal is necessary contrary to the results of this election, they must file their complaint with their local leadership no later than September twenty-fourth at nine a.m.” Oh, I had forgotten about the appeals.
“I also remind the press that any information published that goes against the election result ruling as set forth by the combined House of Lords and House of Commons election committees is considered in contempt of the law and will be punished according to the law set forth in the Candoran First Charter and Constitution.”
Will he not get to the point? I make eye contact with my friends, finding strength and comfort in their support.
Liam gives me two thumbs up and a cheesy grin that coaxes a laugh out of me, and Cole exaggerates taking a breath, silently urging me to do the same.
Derek smiles his ever-confident smile, telling me he will always be there for his friends.
I will be okay. No matter what happens.
“After a thorough and secure counting process, I am honored to officially announce that Freya Isolde Marit Alverra has won the ninth Candoran royal election with seventy-four percent of the vote, securing more than 400,000 votes.”
Ashlund keeps talking, going off about The Crown’s dedication to stability and prosperity and when the coronation will take place barring an appeals process, but I barely hear him.
I won.
I am going to be queen.
Every ounce of my energy is being used to hold myself together. I want to laugh, cry, sink into a heap on the floor and stay there for days because I won. I can hardly believe it.
But I am not imagining things because Liam and Carissa both jump up and start cheering before Hank and Kasey drag them back into their seats.
Cole and Bonnie are smiling and crying at once and have never looked prouder.
Derek’s expression is muted compared to the others, but I don’t think he is hiding anything.
He is simply happy. Maybe a bit relieved.
My brothers have reined in their enthusiasm and are grinning in their place behind our parents, but I am certain they will be climbing through the secret passage to my bedroom tonight to celebrate with me.
Catching their eyes, I try to convey my gratitude for their support, especially during the last few weeks, but I can only look at them so long before tears spring to my eyes.
Dad and Mum are in each other’s arms. She is sobbing, and I hope they are happy tears, but they likely have a bittersweet edge. Dad is smiling at me as he pats Mum’s arm, and while he has never enjoyed politics, he is proud of the choices I have made to get here.
And Elliot…
I’m afraid to turn to look at him, but I don’t have to.
I can feel his love, even from feet away, and if I close my eyes, I can imagine his arms around me as he speaks soft words of approval in my ear.
He knew. He knew I would win, and he knew that I would never fully believe I was right for the position if it was given to me by default.
I refuse to think what might have happened had he not been brought into my life when he was.
All of this is because of him.
I love you, I say in my head, hoping he can somehow hear me.
I love you.
I love you.
I can almost swear I hear him saying it right back.