4. 4
Selene
Being at the Coronation Ball in Laandia should make me feel like a princess.
I should be tingling with excitement and anticipation.
I have the dress – a turquoise blue column of silk that slithers and sparkles and leaves my shoulders and back bare.
The ballroom of the castle is filled with a glittering who’s who of the aristocracy, celebrities, and oh my goodness, I just saw Jon Bon Jovi stop and talk to the doctor from the American television show, ER.
I am going to meet the prince of Laandia – no, he’s the king now. I’m going to meet him and smile and say all the right things and do my best to feel like the second coming of Cinderella and not an imposter who is still incredibly angry that this is not my Coronation Ball.
Focus. Breathe. Let go of the anger.
They don’t announce us when we arrive, and I’m glad of that.
It’s been an adjustment going from Princess Selene, the heir apparent of the kingdom of Avelaine, to Selene Brighton-Black, therapist. I refused to be called Lady Selene.
Even my head feels strange without a crown.
For years, I would put on a dress and then put on a tiara. It was my uniform. My armour, even, because as any woman in the public eye can tell you, comments are often harsh, and protection is mandatory.
The Avelaine Sapphire Tiara would have looked perfect with this dress.
I’m still not used to wearing bright colours or anything that could be considered fashionable.
Avelaine is a conservative kingdom, and tradition has been instilled in me since birth.
My stylist preferred me in dark blues and blacks, or the odd gray or brown.
Simple, clean lines, no fuss. She said it was because my beauty needed no adornment.
She dressed me like a sixty-year-old matron, and I went along with it because, as the future queen of Avelaine, I had an image to protect.
I’m done with that now.
I may be pretty, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t enjoy a little sparkle.
This dress, with the sparkly straps and low dip in the back, can actually be considered sexy. I picked it out myself, with some help and a lot of encouragement from my former assistant, Courtney.
I focus on the little wins these days.
I followed Papa to Ottawa because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. For the first time in my life, I could have gone anywhere in the world, and I followed my father to Canada.
Seeing him happy makes it easier. He has Lorraine, and they are making a life together. He got a job with the Governor General of Canada, because no one would give a former king a position that has to do with running a country. But advising a ceremonial role is perfect for him.
Courtney came to Ottawa with us, saying there was nothing left in Avelaine for her if we weren’t there. And there was no way I would have stayed, even if Papa decided to. Seeing Julian take over Papa’s rooms in the palace…
Courtney has found her place as well as her person. My best friend is pregnant. As soon as she was no longer the personal assistant to the future queen of Avelaine, Courtney went out looking for a life. And she found one.
Who gets married three months after meeting?
Eight months, and I still haven’t met anyone worth a second conversation. Courtney keeps trying to set me up with friends of her new husband, but it’s difficult to believe true love might be possible when, for my whole life, I had expected to marry for duty.
I had planned on marrying for duty. Because once Darren told me he no longer wanted to marry me—a convenient three days after the news of Julian’s succession as king of Avelaine was made public—I knew I had never loved Darren.
Maybe I was still too devastated about losing the crown, but it was too easy to get over Darren. And it wouldn’t have been if I’d truly loved him.
Darren is out of my life, and Courtney thinks I need to find someone. I don’t. I have a career, and while it’s not the one I planned on, it has the potential to be quite fulfilling.
It helps to stay close to my father and Courtney, to have something familiar around, because this new life has been a lot to get used to.
And Laandia is a world away from what I’m used to.
I can’t even begin to compare the castle with our home in Avelaine. It’s rugged, perched on top of a cliff, and built by Vikings to withstand the Arctic gales, as well as any invading force.
The Winter Palace in Avelaine is far larger, spreading across the streets of Valenne.
There’s never been an invasion of any sort, and the weather is much nicer back home.
But the palace seems untouchable compared to here.
Unlivable, even. Everything is structured and rigid.
Even the gardens are set in strict lines of precisely clipped hedges and flowers growing in the spots they were allotted.
The Winter Palace was built to impress, and it does. The marble and the art and the gold… But I was once told by a visiting monarch that they felt like they had to hold their breath when they were admitted through the doors, in case they disturbed anything.
People seem to actually live here.
My father and I both received invitations to King Magnus’s Coronation Ball. Papa had been friends with King Euan and was deeply saddened by his sudden death.
There is no one to announce us, but there is a receiving line. My father escorts Lorraine, Courtney, and me over to where to the newly crowned King Magnus greets his guests with a big smile pasted firmly in place.
I know of Magnus. We’ve met several times over the years, both as children of monarchs. He’s spent years touring the world with his band, and I know his coronation has surprised more than a few people. Me included.
Not that I would ever say that.
I can’t help but wonder if this is the life he wants, or the life duty has chosen for him.
“Lord Theodor,” Magnus booms, reaching for my father’s hand as if he’s pulling him into an embrace. “So glad you could make it. I’ve heard you’re doing good things in Canada for the Governor General.”
Someone has obviously briefed the new king. Not only did he get the title right, but he made no mention of the abdication debacle.
Not that it was a debacle for my father—just me.
Magnus greets Lorraine, showing my new step-mother the same respect he gives Papa. In their brief conversation, Lorraine laughs and smiles, clearly charmed by the new king. Her cheeks are pink as my father finally moves on to the man beside the king.
He looks familiar—longish dark hair, impeccable suit—but I can’t place him.
Before I can give it much thought, I’m standing before King Magnus, blinking up at him.
He’s very… tall. And broad, with shoulders better used in an American football game than sitting on a throne.
His hair gleams red in the light of the chandeliers, and laugh lines crease around his eyes. Blue, I decide, the shade of the Baltic Sea in December. His beard is nicely trimmed, but someone seems to have forgotten the hair on his head. Or maybe he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous.
He doesn’t seem nervous. No, that’s me.
I don’t know where the nerves came from. Magnus isn’t handsome in the polished, princely way the press adores. His brother, Dante, fits that description perfectly, but Magnus is more rugged, more real. Like the castle.
I can also tell from the way the king looks at me that he doesn’t remember me. Or maybe he wasn’t briefed that I was on the invite list, because Magnus has a questioning expression on his face as he stares down at me.
And then he gives himself a shake. “Selene,” he says, sounding amazed. Magnus takes my hand, but before he can shake it, he brings it to his mouth. His reddish beard tickles as he presses his lips to the back of my hand.
“I…” It’s been a while since a man has kissed my hand, and unfortunately, it shows.
“It’s good to see you again,” Magnus adds. He’s still holding my hand, blue eyes appraising me with a mischievous gleam.
I pull my hand away. “Your Majesty,” I manage. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“I had the opportunity to meet King Julian,” Magnus says, ignoring my flinch when he mentions his name. “He sent his regrets. Something about imminent labour…”
The new queen of Avelaine is about to give birth, forcing me a step further away from the throne. Not that I’m steps away—I am leaps and bounds and an entire ocean away from the throne of Avelaine now.
“I’m not one to speak ill of another king because god knows there are so many out there speaking ill of me, but I will say, I feel you would wear that crown much better than Julian,” Magnus admits.
He… Did the king of Laandia just say that? And say it so sincerely. At least I think he was sincere.
“I’m sure Julian will do a wonderful job,” I say automatically, the same response I’ve been giving for the past eight months.
Magnus cocks his head. “Do you really think so? Because my brother still won’t talk to me after I got this.” He touches his crown with a rueful smile. “I can’t imagine you aren’t a little bitter about how it all went down. Happy for your father, of course.”
“Of course, I’m happy for my father.”
“That’s what I said.”
The man beside him gives him a nudge with his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said that,” Magnus apologizes. “He makes me behave. I’m sure you know Duncan Laz, my right-hand man, the one responsible for me standing here tonight.”
It’s not until I get the full effect of Duncan’s hair and eyes that I recognize him. At least I think I recognize him, since it’s difficult to tell with his shirt on.
“The Doubtful Duke,” Courtney squeaks from behind me. My assistant has met Bono, Princess Diana, and Brad Pitt, and she squeaks meeting the model of a romance novel?
Many romance novels.
“Selene, he’s on the cover of the book I just loaned you,” she says, tugging at my arm. “You have to recognize him. The shirtless one with the—”
Now it’s my time to nudge.
Magnus laughs and claps Duncan’s shoulder. “Most of Duncan’s covers are him shirtless, and he pulls it off better than anyone I know,” he says with pride.
Pride. Not derision.
“He gets embarrassed if I talk about it,” Magnus adds, leaning down to whisper to me.
“You really don’t have to be embarrassed,” Courtney assures him.
“Thank you,” Duncan says, shaking her hand. “I’m sure the authors of the books appreciate you reading them.”
“I always tell him he gets more attention for those covers than from the band,” Magnus says ruefully. “But he deserves every second glance he gets.”
Duncan Laz may be unnervingly attractive, but it’s the way Magnus looks at me that makes me uneasy. Not uncomfortable, but like I’m standing on the deck of a ship, slightly unbalanced from the waves.
“I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with your music,” I tell him. Why would I say that? Why am I still talking to him?
I should congratulate him on the success of the ceremony and take my leave. Receiving lines aren’t the time for small talk.
I’ve never been one for small talk. At events like this, I always had an agenda for everyone I spoke to.
I no longer have agendas, and it’s thrown me off.
“Join the club. We have our fans, but most of the world thinks it’s noise.”
“The Grammy nomination suggests otherwise,” Courtney pipes up. “And this record will go platinum, I heard.”
I glance at her with surprise. She’s clearly having a fangirl moment. Why can’t I be as comfortable as her? “Yes, well, I’m sure you have more guests to greet. Have a good evening.”
And then I tuck my hand under Courtney’s arm and lead her away.