2. 2
Selene
Isit opposite my father at the table, the extra-long table set for just the two of us. For the first time in weeks, months even, Lorraine hasn’t joined us for dinner.
Lorraine will become my stepmother when she marries my father, King Theodor of Avelaine, next week.
The wedding will happen the day after he abdicates his throne.
He’s giving up his role as His Majesty King Theodor of Avelaine, Guardian of the Crown and Defender of the Constitution, to marry Lorraine Halken, a commoner.
A retired schoolteacher, in fact. My father says he’s ready for a simple life, that he doesn’t want her to have to deal with the pressure of becoming queen.
I will be queen instead.
At least, that’s the plan.
Darren isn’t with us tonight either, but he should be. We should be planning our wedding.
We’ve been planning our wedding for six years now. Darren has always said we should wait with the wedding until after I have a firm date for when I’ll become queen. And then he wants us to be crowned together as a sign of our commitment to Avelaine.
And each other.
Darren, Baron von Lier of Belgium, and Princess Selene of Avelaine, engaged to be married.
The invitations will be delivered next week as well.
I should be excited. I should be happy that I’m finally getting what I’ve always wanted. To be queen of Avelaine. To be a just and fair ruler, leading my country with love and respect.
And I get to be queen while my father is alive, because he is abdicating. He’s giving up his throne to marry Lorraine, giving it up to me.
I’m also getting married soon. The fact that I’m not as excited about the upcoming wedding should probably worry me.
I’ve been with Darren since I was twenty-three. Do I love him?
I think so, but no one has ever asked me that.
Would I give up the throne for him, like my father is doing for Lorraine?
Absolutely not. Not in a million years.
That should tell me the answer to whether I love him.
I enjoy dinner with Papa, since we rarely have time to spend alone together. It’s been just the two of us since Mama passed, until Lorraine entered our lives. And Darren.
I expected a cozy father-daughter dinner, where he’d share his wisdom, answer any questions I might have, and give some final advice, because might be the last time the two of us dine alone.
Instead, we talk about Nelson Mandela, Finland’s decision to join the European Union, and how Prince Magnus had returned to Laandia, and what that means for the line of succession.
Both of us have always assumed the younger Prince Dante would be the next king after King Euan.
It isn’t until my plate is clean that Papa’s expression changes. “Selene, my love, there’s something I must tell you.”
“Is everything all right, Papa? Is Lorraine well?”
“Lorraine is quite well, everything is fine. It’s just… I’m not sure how to tell you this.” Papa, gentle, sweet Papa, who shies from conflict, takes a deep breath. “Selene, I have to tell you… You will not be queen.”
I frown at my father’s words. “How is that possible? Avelaine needs a queen, and I am the next in line.”
He pours the wine himself, a lovely cherry-red Barolo, because he asked the servants to give us privacy. I’m beginning to understand why.
But I don’t understand what my father is trying to say.
I really don’t, because I am the only child of the king of Avelaine. I became the heir to the throne the day I was born. Not only that, I’ve spent my entire life preparing to be queen.
The Kingdom of Avelaine lies along the western Baltic coast, between southern Sweden and northern Germany, separated from Denmark by a narrow channel. It’s a small monarchy, grown smaller in recent years due to the legislature demanding more and more concessions within the constitutional framework.
They see my father as one more in the line of weak rulers.
There has been a surge in the call for the abolition of the monarchy in recent years. I have a five-point plan to show them what a strong queen can do for the people. I will be that queen when I take the throne. It’s all arranged.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
My father’s handsome face softens. “I’m sorry, Selene.”
“What exactly are you sorry for?”
I’m supposed to be the next queen. I’ve given up friends, destroyed relationships because of duty.
I’ve taken my responsibility to the people of Avelaine seriously, considered how every step in my life can benefit them, looked at every path leading into the future with the utmost seriousness.
I know what is expected of me. I know how to rule.
I will be a good queen.
“You will not be queen after my abdication,” my father says sadly with a slow shake of his head. “Try the wine.”
Obediently, I take a mouthful, but the distraction is not enough to keep my words from erupting in a torrent.
“But I have to be queen. I will be. You are giving up the throne for Lorraine, and I’m fine with that.
I am. I’m ready for this, Papa. I want this.
You know how much I want this. I’ll lead Avelaine, and I’ll do it well, just like you’ve taught me. You know I’ll do a good job.”
“Yes, I know that, Selene. This isn’t my decision.”
“Yes, it is. You’re the king.”
“But I still have to answer to the Charter. You know that.”
“I don’t understand.”
I sound like a child. I know I sound like a five-year-old on the verge of an epic tantrum, and just like a child, I don’t know how to stop it because it’s taking all my willpower not to hurl the contents of my wineglass, and the glass itself, at the wall.
Avelaine became a constitutional monarchy when my father took the throne at eighteen.
The government had been worried that such a young and unexperienced ruler would need time to reach his full potential as a king, so the legislature was changed and the Constitutional Charter put in place, limiting his power.
“They accepted your abdication. They wished you well,” I remind him.
“There’s a provision in the Charter that we didn’t realize. Bryant discovered it last week.”
Bryant, my father’s chief councilor and advisor. The man who has been giving me more responsibilities and duties over the last few years, teaching me what needs to be done to prepare for my father to leaving his role—and I’ve done it all. Bryant has taught me how to rule.
“Why hasn’t he told me about this?”
“I wanted to do it myself.”
I grit my teeth. My entire body is tense, waiting to hear what he has to tell me. Waiting to hear how I’m not going to be queen is the truth because unless he can explain it to my liking, I will not believe it.
“There’s a succession clause—”
I’m supposed to be queen.
“—that says if I abdicate, the crown won’t be passed down to my descendants but will instead revert back to Nicholas’s family.”
“What? Why?” I explode.
And for the first time in my life, I curse. The slew of swear words—in three different languages, no less—has my father raising his eyebrow.
“Selene,” he admonishes.
“No.” The voice isn’t mine. It’s like I’ve summoned an otherworldly creature to fight for me. “This is your fault, and you will explain how this is possible. How it is that I will not be able to take the throne of my country.”
And he tries to.
King Nicholas had been a notorious gambler with an even greater appetite for wine.
As his addictions deepened, so did Avelaine’s troubles, leaving the monarchy weakened and the kingdom teetering on the edge of ruin.
When my grandfather, Nicholas’s second cousin, won the crown in a single unforgettable card game, most considered it less a scandal than a miracle.
“No.” I stop myself from slamming my hand on the table just in time. “Grandpapa won the throne fair and square. It’s not my fault that King Nicholas was an idiot to think three nines would beat a straight flush.”
“The succession clause states that if I abdicate—”
“Take it out.”
Papa looks surprised at the vehemence in my tone. “You know I can’t do that, Selene.”
“You’re the king. You can do anything you want.”
But he can’t, and we both know it. Not anymore, not after my father agreed to the Charter. It’s the only reason Avelaine still has a monarchy.
“They can’t do this.” My voice is louder than I planned, with a note of frustration that I can’t hide.
“They can,” my father says sadly. “And they have. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I stare unseeingly at the smear of sauce on my plate, doing the deep breathing to calm down.
But I don’t want to calm down. I can’t.
This is my life. The path I’ve followed from childhood has… vanished. One caveat, one stupid line in an equally stupid charter has flipped my life upside down and taken everything I’ve ever wanted.
It’s taken who I am.
Rationally, I know I shouldn’t be so upset. I was never queen, so it shouldn’t bother me that I’m giving up the chance. Being released from this duty will give me freedom. I’ll be able to live a life that I choose.
But it’s not possible to be rational right now.
“Who?” My voice is hoars like I’ve been screaming all these thoughts. I drain my wineglass, trying to get the moisture back into my throat, to stop the lump from taking over and causing the ugly tears to spill.
Who will take over from my father? That’s what I want to know.
“Julian.” From the slump of his shoulders and the tone of his voice, he’s as disappointed as I am.
My father cannot possibly be as disappointed as I am, because he did this. This is his choice.
I’ve never begrudged him his happiness with Lorraine.
My mother died when I was twelve, an important year for a girl.
First crush, first cycle, the official acknowledgment from the country that I will succeed my father.
After we lost her, Papa took on the role of both mother and father, as we dealt with our grief.
It wasn’t until I returned from university, with my double major in politics and psychology, that he agreed to my suggestion that he should look for another partner because he deserved his own happiness.
I wouldn’t have suggested anything if I had known this was how it would turn out.
That’s not true. I love Papa, and he deserves to be happy with Lorraine.
But Julian... I’ve known him my entire life. He’s kind. Gentle. A good man. He’s not strong enough to stand against anyone.
And then the thought slips in before I can stop it. If I married him—
I’d still be queen.
But—no. Not like this.
I won’t marry Julian simply to reclaim a crown that should have been mine. This isn’t the Middle Ages. I’m not some political bargaining chip to be traded between branches of the family tree.
Besides, I’m already engaged. Darren. What will he think of all this?
Because deep down, I know, Darren loves the idea of being king more than he loves me.
I draw a shaky breath, then another, forcing air into lungs that suddenly feel too tight. It’s like a blanket covers my anger, leaving only my disappointment and regret.
I know it’s common for a queen to feel disappointment and regret, but she should never rule with anger.
But I will no longer be queen.
With trembling fingers, I push my chair away from the table. My father watches me with concern etched across his face. I’ve never felt so helpless, like I’ve lost something important. Like I’ve lost myself.
And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
“It’s done, then,” I say quietly, and leave the room without another word.