13. “Castles Crumbling” - Taylor Swift ft. Hayley Williams
“Castles Crumbling” - Taylor Swift ft. Hayley Williams
Snow hangs from the corners of the windows, but I have to imagine the biting chill, because I haven’t left this tower in seven whole days. The most shocking part is how much I miss my people.
Before my coronation, I wouldn’t have considered myself an extrovert, but something changes when you realize an entire country is looking to you for leadership.
I try to make out the streets below from where I’m standing in the living room, but we’re up too high to see the ant-sized pedestrians scurrying to work. I wonder if their lives have all gone back to normal since the shooting, or if everyone else is on hold the way I am.
I feel foolish for spending so much time worrying about Henry and the effect he has on my heart. There are so many bigger problems in the world, but as long as I’m stuck here, there’s little to nothing I can do about them.
Now the foyer doors open, and Roberts announces Maisie. I eagerly accept the latte from her hands as she passes on her way to deposit my green box of state papers onto the dining table. Once we sit down and I get a good look at her face, dread creeps into my stomach.
“What is it now?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “The press found out about your appeal to Parliament for the tax raise.”
“Terrific.” What’s a little more gasoline on the fire?
“I would recommend staying away from the news for the time being.”
“You may as well tell me. It can’t be worse than I’m imagining.”
Her eyes grow large. “How good is your imagination?”
She hands her tablet to me. The home page of the Wesbourne Sun fills the screen, the headline taking up nearly the whole thing. Queen Stages Assassination to Garner Sympathy for Tax Hike?
My eyes fly back to Maisie. “They actually think I hired the shooter myself?”
She shrugs and takes back the tablet. “They’re certainly speculating that you did. Everyone is covering the tax proposal. The Sun is the first to suggest a correlation, but you know the rest will follow.”
I sink back into the pillows. She was right. This is worse than I was expecting. “Surely someone has mentioned the fact that it’s impossible to run the royal household on the current Civil List?”
“Unfortunately, they are conveniently leaving that part out. At the risk of saying I told you so . . .” She winces. “I did warn you about this.”
I brush at my lint-free pants. “Yeah. You did. I just assumed people would understand.”
“We just need a really good plan to bring this around,” she says.
“Please do not tell me you have a scheme in mind.”
“Absolutely not. I was just thinking that maybe we should find you a husband.”
I take another swig of coffee. “If that’s not a scheme, I’m curious what you do consider one.”
“The British royal family’s support sky-rocketed when William and Kate became engaged.”
I scoff. “They were in love. It wasn’t a forced match to gain publicity.”
“Okay, you’re right. What we need is a really good press secretary,” Maisie says.
“How is the hunt coming?”
“Nothing promising yet. Apparently, no one wants the job of repairing your image. Personally, I don’t see what the problem is. It’s not like you’re Hitler.” She glances back down at her screen and murmurs, “At least not before the tax thing.”
“Is this supposed to be helpful?”
She glances up and clears her throat. “My apologies, Your Majesty. My lips are sealed on the subject forever.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I say. “What if we released a statement of some kind? Or I could make an appearance?”
“I don’t know how much good a statement would do, but an appearance would be great. Maybe you could fake a few tears or act like you’re scared for your life?”
I raise a brow. “I am scared for my life.”
“Of course you are. I just meant— Well, you’re not exactly acting like it.”
“Because I’m locked inside Fort Knox!”
“Right, I-I know,” she stammers. “Do you think he will let you out to make an appearance?” Her stage whisper is atrocious.
“God, Maisie. You can say his name.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. So, will he?”
I blow out a breath. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
Henry’s office is in a wing of the penthouse I haven’t spent much time in, aside from that awful movie night. Besides his large workspace, there is also a gym (evidently the three communal ones the building offers aren’t enough), the home theater, and a billiard room.
I’m about to knock on his door when Bea spots me.
“There you are!” She approaches, and I lower my hand. Her eyes are red and watery. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
That’s impossible, since I was in the great room for the past hour and only left a minute ago.
“You found me,” I say with a smile. My head is throbbing with pain, but I push it to the back of my mind.
“I need to talk to you.”
I motion to Henry’s door. “I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can we chat later?”
“This is really important,” Bea says. “I feel like my life just ended.”
I force my eyes to stay on her when what they really want is to roll across the floor. Maybe I’ve coddled her too much, because Bea thinking I will drop everything every time she has a blowout gone wrong is concerning.
I am the queen, which means I have responsibilities beyond my little sister. And right now, those responsibilities include doing something to regain the people’s favor and support.
“I’m sorry, Bea, but I need to handle this right now. I’ll find you in an hour, okay?” Without waiting for her answer, I knock on Henry’s door.
He calls for me to come in, and I do. The far wall is all glass, and the L-shaped desk is sleek and modern. A large table is situated on the other side of the room, surrounded by chairs. This space is a cold cousin to his cozy office in the palace.
He looks up when I enter. It’s impossible to ignore the little dip in my stomach when his eyes crinkle up at the corners. He immediately stands and motions me over.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, taking a seat in the chair across from him.
He moves aside several large blueprints. “I needed the break anyway.”
“Are you buying another business?”
“No, just a pet project I’m working on.” Interlacing his hands behind his head, he leans back in his chair. “What’s up?”
I bite my lip. This seemed like a good idea while Maisie was still here, but now that I’m facing him, my hands have grown clammy, and I can feel the fabric of my sweater growing damp under my armpits. “I don’t know if you’ve seen the news,” I say.
“I have.”
“Then you’re aware that the press is dragging my name through the mud.”
Henry nods. “A pastime of theirs, I believe.”
“I can handle their usual blows, but now they’re saying I staged the assassination to gain sympathy.”
His nostrils flare ever so slightly. “Vultures.”
“We thought, if I could show the people that the threat is real and that I really am under heavy protection, they would ease up a bit.” My abdomen has decided to join my head in a competition to see which can cause me the most discomfort. I declare a tie in hopes they will both give up. They don’t.
“Who’s we?”
“Maisie and me.” I press my teeth into my lip again.
“And how exactly do the two of you think you can prove the very real threat on your life?”
“We haven’t covered that part yet.”
“Allow me to save you the trouble,” Henry says. “It’s not happening.” He pushes several paper clips into his desk drawer.
“There has to be a way to do it safely.”
He laughs and cracks his knuckles. “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m sorry,” I snipe, “which part of this conversation is humorous to you?”
Smile vanished, he sits upright in his chair. “The part where you thought for a second I would allow you to put your life in any more danger than it already is.”
“Henry, sometimes you have to take risks for the things that matter.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Only if the benefit outweighs the risk.”
“And in this case, it does.”
He stands and leans over the desk. His spicy scent, combined with the warmth from his body, reminds me of hot cider on a cold day. “So if you died, at least everyone would love you?”
“I—” That’s not what I meant, but somehow I’ve lost the ability to make sense with my words.
“You will not make a public appearance until this guy is caught.” Henry sits back down with a sigh. “And maybe not even then. There’s always the risk of copycats.”
“You cannot be serious.”
His eyes flash to mine. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
No, he doesn’t. He looks like his anger is simmering just below the surface, and for some reason it’s hot. Very hot. I wave a hand in front of my face to cool it. “What about a live stream on social media?”
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s not like anyone would know where I am.”
He studies a paper on the desk, ignoring me. “Not a risk I’m willing to take.”
“But I’m willing.” I’m practically pleading now. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
He looks up from the page, but only to glare at me. “It’s not your decision to make.”
“My life, my decision.”
Folding his hands in front of him, Henry says, “Let me make something very clear. You gave up the right to make decisions for yourself the moment you accepted that crown. Because like it or not, you no longer belong to yourself, but to the people of Wesbourne. They expect a leader who is strong, confident, and smart. Not someone who makes impulsive decisions based on how she’s feeling that day. Got it?”
I narrow my eyes, my jaw clenched tight. “The only thing I ‘get’ is that you’re an arrogant asshole who likes to boss people around.”
He shrugs. “Good luck finding someone else who can give you three orgasms in an hour.”
I inhale sharply, and my entire body breaks into goose bumps. He has already turned his attention back to his work and doesn’t even acknowledge my anger. When it becomes clear he isn’t planning to discuss this further, I excuse myself and walk out.
It isn’t until I’m back in the hallway that I realize his talk of orgasms chased away my headache and abdominal pain entirely.