Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Oliver
The last thing I fancy doing tonight is attending a state banquet.
I have a mild headache from attending Commonwealth Heads of Government meetings all day. The Commonwealth is a diverse group of fifty-three nations that spans continents, all tied together due to our shared history.
Looking at the faces around the table, it seems impossible that Great Britain, a small island off the coast of Europe, once ruled such a vast empire, a quarter of the world’s land area at its greatest extent.
Of course, my ancestors weren’t governing anyone at the height of the British Empire. My ancestors were buried deep in coal mines in Yorkshire or stuck on production lines in the Manchester woolen mills, their hands scoured raw by the vicious chemicals.
That thought has me gulping two paracetamol tablets dry in the car as my driver heads towards Windsor Castle.
I’m not being asked to work double shifts in a mine. I simply have to make small talk with a bunch of dignitaries in a castle.
The Grand Reception Room in Windsor Castle always makes me feel like I’ve been transported into the pages of a history book or a museum exhibit. It’s impossible not to be impressed by the sheer magnitude and lavishness of the room.
But it’s also a reminder of the historical inequality in British society. I was elected promising to promote policies that make sure the wealth of our nation is shared by everyone, not just a lucky few.
Queen Katharine looks as regal as ever, wearing a deep-emerald dress.
I dip my head before greeting her. “Your Majesty.”
“Good evening, Oliver,” she replies.
Callum Prescott is next in the reception line. The dark tux he’s wearing contrasts with his light coloring, making him take-your-breath-away good-looking. Which is a positive thing. I get the feeling Callum will need every asset he can to win over the British public.
“Your Royal Highness,” I say.
“Prime Minister.” Callum gives me a small smile.
Our hands touch, and it’s exactly like our first handshake. It feels like all the nerves in my body have decided to migrate to my right hand, and I’m hyperaware of every last detail, like how smooth his palm is and the slide of our hands against each other.
I pull back, trying to keep the frown off my face.
What the hell? I have no idea why, for the second time, my body has decided to have a reaction to Callum Prescott.
When I release his hand, Callum’s got a tiny line between his eyebrows, marring his perfect face.
To cover my confusion, I quickly greet Prince Nicholas and Princess Amelia.
As I finish the reception line and start circulating the room, I can’t help my gaze flicking back to Callum.
He’s got a polite smile plastered on his face as he shakes hands with everyone filing past, but there’s something stiff about the way he’s holding himself, some extra tension around his mouth, that wasn’t there when I first met him.
I blink when I realize I’m staring at him. I can’t spend my entire evening watching the Prince of Wales.
I quickly find myself drawn into a discussion with Joseph Otieno, the prime minister of Kenya, and Maali Walker, Australia’s prime minister, about the shortage of water their countries face.
After half an hour of mingling, it’s time to move into St George’s Hall for dinner.
A long banquet table has been set up, filling the cavernous space. The finest china awaits me as I sit, along with silver cutlery and George III crystal goblets. I’ve heard the palace staff uses rulers to ensure everything is spaced correctly.
I can’t help thinking about drinking milk as a kid out of my chipped favorite mug with green glaze, the one Nan got from a charity shop, coming home to triumphantly announce, “I got it for only fifty-nine p!”
Whoever planned the seating for this banquet obviously has a sadistic streak because Lionel Pearson sits opposite me.
Lionel was the Chancellor of the Exchequer for the last Conservative government and is a strong candidate for the biggest prat on the planet.
Although a few other past and present members of the Conservative Party might give him a run for his money.
“Prime Minister.” Lionel inclines his head in a lazy nod.
“Lionel,” I reply in a dry voice.
But before we can attempt small talk, the first notes of “God Save the Queen” ring through the hall.
Everyone obediently climbs to their feet.
A courtier holding a sword leads the procession, and the Queen, Prince Callum, Prince Nicholas, and Princess Amelia follow at a dignified pace.
To my surprise, once Queen Katharine is seated, another courtier guides Callum to the seat next to Lionel.
Callum smooths his tux jacket as he sits down. “Good evening.”
“Your Royal Highness,” Lionel replies. There’s a hint of disdain in his tone, a curl in how he rolls the vowels of Callum’s title. But then Lionel is blue blood through and through.
I was exposed to the inner workings of those circles when I was married to Garett, and it honestly shocked me how many people still believe they have an innate superiority over others just because of their ancestry.
By Lionel’s logic, Callum is inferior because his mother was a commoner. These aristocratic snobs must find it infuriating that they have to bow to him.
“Sorry, I know I met you on the reception line, but I can’t remember your name,” Callum says politely.
Lionel’s lips pull into a straight line. “Lionel Pearson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lionel. And what do you do?”
Lionel blinks at him for a few moments before he answers.
“I was the Chancellor of the Exchequer for the last government. Have you heard of the Chancellor of the Exchequer? It’s the second most important position in Her Majesty’s government, so you might want to get your head around it before you become king.
” The scorn in Lionel’s voice has my eyebrows flying up.
“Of course, that was when we had functioning fiscal policy.” Lionel throws me a barbed look. He’s managed to insult both Callum and me without taking a breath. You’ve got to admire his prudence with words. It’s a genuine talent.
But I haven’t got to my position in politics without being able to return a barb with interest.
“We might have to agree to disagree about how well you did your job, Lionel,” I say. “The spiraling national debt under your watch suggests you might have spent too much time at the golf course.”
Lionel gives me a look that contains icicles. During his reign as chancellor, the press delighted in releasing photos of his exceptionally bad swing alongside any articles containing dire economic news.
Luckily, before our exchange can descend further, our conversation is interrupted by the prime minister of Jamaica, Keon Campbell, on Callum’s other side. It turns out Keon was at Cambridge with Lionel, so they begin reminiscing about their university days.
The seats beside me contain the prime minister of South Africa and his wife, so I make polite conversation as Windsor Castle servers bring out dinner. A starter of halibut with wild mushrooms and gnocchi. Quail with figs and walnut sauce as the main.
It’s a banquet fit for a queen and future king, after all.
Callum continues to sit silently between Lionel and Keon, who have moved on to an intense discussion about the factors that have brought about the collapse of civilizations in history.
“The development of hostile neighbors is the most important factor,” Keon says.
“I think the collapse of trade is more defining,” Lionel counters.
The servers sweep the remnants of the main course away and bring out trifle for pudding.
Callum sits there poking at his trifle, wearing a slightly bemused expression, before Lionel finally turns to him.
“I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness, you must find this conversation incredibly boring. It’s the kind of thing we spent hours debating at Cambridge. What do you Americans like to discuss? The specs of the latest semi-automatic machine gun on the market? Who one of the Kardashians is sleeping with?”
I suck in a breath at the sneer in his voice.
Callum smiles. He has such a genuine, open smile. I still have no idea why I find it so unsettling.
“No, I’m quite happy listening to your debate. I’m confused about a few things though.”
“What’s confused you?” Lionel asks in an oily voice. “I’ll try my hardest to break it down.”
“Well, it sounds like most of your arguments have been uplifted from Jared Diamond’s book Collapse, and you’ve completely ignored the counterargument that Diamond engages in environmental determinism and minimizes human agency.
I think you’ll find the prevailing view among academics is that many societies simply changed forms rather than completely collapsing. ”
Lionel’s mouth has fallen open as he gapes unattractively at Callum.
“But I think you’ve got the interpretation of climate change correct,” Callum continues.
“A recent study from Oxford scientists indicated that when climate change is combined with other anthropogenic stressors, it will intensify societal vulnerabilities, which have the potential to converge into comprehensive, simultaneous system breakdowns.”
I almost choke on my wine. There’s a stunned silence around the table.
Callum gives Lionel another happy, sunshiny smile. “Anyway, who is your favorite Kardashian? Mine is Khloe. Best personality by far.”
“I’m afraid I don’t actually have an opinion on the Kardashians,” Lionel finally splutters, but it’s too little, too late.
“Oh, you definitely should watch them. I get the feeling you could learn a lot,” Callum says.
I snort into my trifle.
I watch Callum more closely as he takes a spoonful of the pudding.
He seems to sense my gaze because he looks up, his green eyes capturing mine.