Chapter 6 #3
“Your quick remarks and less-than-serious attitude will not get you far in this courtship. You should take this seriously. This isn’t an American beauty pageant; this is the prince’s hand in marriage,” Bronson lectured.
I sobered. “I apologize, Bronson. I assure you I am taking this seriously,” I promised.
As much as I already enjoyed getting under Bronson’s skin, I reminded myself that he was going out on a limb for me.
My talent for quick comebacks and laughing things off may have helped me when I was being teased by the popular kids in junior high for my second-hand jeans and braces, but I would need to rein it in when I met the rest of the royal family.
“When you enter the royal palace, you will be led to the grand ballroom. At dinner, you are not allowed to sit until the royal family sits,” Bronson continued.
“As you are not a citizen of Wexstone, you are not required to curtsy when meeting the royal family, but it is a sign of respect should you wish to do so.” His eyes narrowed.
“People will be watching you extra carefully, so it would do you well to go above and beyond in niceties.”
“Ok. Not sitting until they sit, curtsy when I shake their hands.”
“No shaking!” Bronson exclaimed, panic in his voice. “You will place your hand in theirs if offered. Do not shake.”
“No shaking,” I repeated. “Got it. How do I address them? That’s what I’m most nervous about. Is it Your Highness? King? Queen? Majesty?”
“When you meet the king and queen for the first time, address them as Your Majesty. For other members of the royal family, address them as Your Highness or Your Royal Highness. After the first time you speak to them, it is acceptable to address them as sir or ma’am.
” Bronson glanced at his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to.
Clarence, I will see you and your team out.
Bernadette, they will be back tomorrow to help you prepare for the gala.
Vincent, please continue educating our guest.”
Bronson led Clarence and his assistants out of the room. The door clicked closed behind them.
I collapsed onto the velvet loveseat, thoroughly exhausted. My mind was swimming. Vince lowered himself into the adjacent armchair. He crossed his legs and tilted his head, looking at me with amusement.
“I take it you are tired?” he asked.
I laughed. “Between jet lag and”—I gestured vaguely at spot where my makeover had just taken place—“all of that…yeah, you could say that. Your brother is a lot. Has he always been so…strung up?”
“Bronson is intense. Our mother passed away shortly after I was born, and it changed him. He only knows how to thrive through control and order. I think that has only worsened since our father died last year.”
I felt a pang in my chest. Maybe I should give Bronson a break.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” Vince continued. “How about I ask them to bring it up here. We can talk while we eat and then you can get a good night’s rest before tomorrow?”
“That sounds great,” I said, relieved I wouldn’t need to move from where I was any time soon.
Twenty minutes later, a gangly young man in a chef coat, whom Vince introduced as Thomas, set plates of succulent roast beef, potatoes, carrots, and rich au jus in front of each of us. I sighed happily, only just realizing how hungry I really was.
Vince had spent the time while we waited debriefing me on the press that was expected to cover each event, as well as how to best answer questions directed at me. His greatest word of caution, however, was reserved for the tabloids.
“Our tabloids are not anywhere as vicious as those in the UK,” he explained, “but I do not doubt that the paparazzi will be on the hunt for anything they think can fetch them a good price related to this contest. Be yourself, always smile, but do not be afraid to answer their questions with, ‘No comment.’”
No comment. Smile. Don’t shake hands. Your Majesty.
Now, as we dug into our dinner, Vince looked up at me. “Before we finish up, is there anything else you would like to know?”
“Actually, yes,” I said, setting my fork down and wiping my mouth with my napkin.
“What the hell is the deal with this marriage rule? And if the king is still alive, why is Prince Oliver about to be crowned? I thought that didn’t happen until the king died?
And how much power does the royal family really have? ”
“Ah, wonderful questions.” Vince settled back in his chair. “You are no doubt familiar with the British royal family, and while we share some similarities with them, a number of our laws and customs differ quite a bit.
“I’ll answer your last question first: We are a constitutional monarchy.
Most of the governmental power is held by the Council of Lords, which at one point did consist solely of titled nobility, though the seats are now elected positions.
The monarch is primarily a symbolic role, although do not be mistaken—they hold quite a bit of sway over the Council’s decisions. ”
“Is it only men who can rule?”
“No, the line of succession goes in birth order, regardless of sex. Although it has been many generations since the royal family has had a first-born daughter.
“The answers to your other questions stem from the same place. King Leroy’s grandfather—Oliver’s great-grandfather—King Alfred II, inherited the throne from his uncle, who had never married and ruled for almost sixty years.
By the time he passed away, he was extremely out of touch with where the country was, and without a partner by his side to help him rule, he didn’t have anyone to balance him out.
He nearly led Wexstone to ruin. So, when King Alfred took the throne, he established two laws in an attempt to prevent that from happening again.
The first was that each sovereign can only rule for thirty years, or until their death—whichever comes first. The second was that the ruler must be married; King Alfred believed that a ruling partnership would keep balance on the throne, while only allowing a sovereign to rule for a maximum of thirty years would prevent them from becoming out of touch with younger generations and new technologies.
“This year marks King Leroy’s thirtieth year on the throne. I believe Oliver already told you about Xavier’s abdication, which means that Oliver will be crowned just after the new year.”
I blinked. What I had assumed was a rule rooted in patriarchal ideals had been established to provide stability to a country on the brink of ruin. While I wasn’t convinced that it was the right answer, it was a reminder to me not to judge a book too harshly by its cover.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know?” Vince inquired as he returned his attention to his plate.
For a split second I considered asking for more information about Knox and his place within the family but thought better of it. I was here to court Prince Oliver, after all. Knox was…well, I wasn’t sure what he was, but he wasn’t supposed to be my priority. Instead, I simply shook my head.
We finished our meal, and Vince placed our empty plates on a tray. “All right. I think that’s enough for today. I’m going to take this back down to the kitchen. You get some sleep; we’ll hit the ground running again tomorrow.”
I stood and walked him to the door.
“Hey, Vince?” He turned to me, brows raised. “Thanks for everything. I hope I don’t let you down.”
“Birdie, I have a feeling you could never let me down.”
I closed the door, grateful for the reassurance. I grabbed a pair of pajamas from my suitcase, washed my face, and a few minutes later was sound asleep under the fluffy white duvet.