"The purpose of this meeting is to outline a unilateral course of action, coordinated between the King's office and the Queen's office, for the next three months of the Queen's pregnancy following the public announcement of the royal baby and leading up to the official, public submission of the proposal for amendment S-19, the amendment to the laws of inheritance, that will bolster and elevate the King's and Queen's joint approval ratings, in addition to improving potential public support for the aforementioned proposed amendment, with specific regards to equating hereditary princes and hereditary princesses in duty and privilege. Castor, read that back."
America felt her eyes glaze over, but was powerless to stop it, as Castor dutifully repeated Stavros' very official, very boring little introduction to their meeting. She was entering a phase of pregnancy where her brain didn't always obey its own commands to pay attention. Earlier that day, she'd forgotten that she was holding her notebook in her hand, and Silvia's smile had been a little too good-natured and understanding when America had asked the older woman where it was. Marlee called it 'pregnancy brain', and claimed no one had ever suffered more comically than she had when she'd been carrying Kile. America fully expected to have given her a run for her money by the time this baby came in December.
Maxon's voice brought America's roaming mind back to conference room A.
"Before we address anything else," Maxon began, looking all around the enormous table at the attentive, serious faces staring back at him, "I want to find out where we stand on 'K'."
America had to force herself to keep from rolling her eyes. All weekend long they'd been dreading this meeting, anxious and afraid of what they'd find out once Stavros presented them with new polling numbers. 'K' was honestly the least of America's concerns right now, and Maxon's obsession with the threatening note he kept in his pocket at all times was bordering on ridiculous, in America's opinion. There were currently three people in her marriage: herself, Maxon, and 'K'. If 'K's objective had been to distract Maxon to the point that he couldn't focus on anyone or anything else, it had all but worked.
"Of course, your Majesty." August replied, and shared a look across the table with Aspen, as a man America didn't know, sitting next to August, handed him a piece of paper. America glanced a few seats down at Georgia to see if she could gain any insight into what August was thinking via his wife. All of America's council was present at today's meeting, Georgia, Marlee, Silvia, and Mary. After all, America wasn't about to go into another major meeting about the amendment without backup.
Georgia was watching her husband closely from her seat between Marlee and a supremely uncomfortable Mary, but when she glanced at America she just shrugged a little and shook her head. She had no idea what was coming.
"Our British friends have been doing some background research on the man in the hostage videos, the man who carried out the executions." August said. "We think he'll lead us to 'K', and might even be 'K', himself. Anyone who feels comfortable enough to leave a personal note in the Queen's bedroom would have to be high up in the ranks."
"Maybe he was rogue?" Maxon suggested, hopefully. "Or she. Whoever 'K' is might have stepped above rank to leave that threat."
Aspen shook his head grimly, "We think this is someone who feels comfortable speaking for the Southern rebels. That would indicate someone higher up in the ranks."
"Why do you think that?" Maxon asked, carefully guarding his disappointment. It was so much less threatening if the note had been left by one rogue guy who thought he was more powerful than he really was. It was much worse if the note came from someone who spoke for the southern rebels, someone with actual power.
August answered the question, "A slip of phrasing in the threat, your Majesty. Sandwiched in between the phrases 'If I see your wife, I will kill her', and 'If Isee your wife, I'll just kill her' is a different indirect object."
Maxon winced terribly as August quoted the threat, and then he frowned at the blank notepad in front of him, one finger absentmindedly brushing the pocket in his lap that contained the note in question. Maxon supplied, "It says 'we'. 'You have nothing we want.' Right in between those threats."
Aspen nodded gravely, "Our English friends think this indicates that he feels comfortable speaking for the rebels as a group. He switched into it seamlessly. He didn't say that you have nothing he wants, and he didn't say that you have nothing he or the rebels want. In this person's mind, they're one and the same. We think this indicates seniority."
Maxon sighed. "Our spies in the rebel ranks?"
"They have hunches." August said. "Nothing verifiable enough to present it here."
"This narrows the search down tremendously, your majesty." Aspen said, sympathetically. "It's good groundwork to continue our search. I consider this solid progress."
"Alright then." Maxon sighed heavily. "Thank you." He looked terribly unhappy, and America slipped her hand under the table and onto his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. They were up on the little platform again so that their chairs rose a couple of inches above everyone else's, but America didn't think anyone could see the gesture. Maxon slid his hand down over hers and squeezed it back. He did not let it go.
After a few moments of heavy silence, America took over for her distracted husband. "Stavros? Let's get started."
"Yes, your Majesty." Stavros agreed. There was a ripple in the room as everyone shuffled papers and sat up a little straighter. "Evander from the research department has updated polling statistics that we need to review before determining the specifics of our unilateral course of action. Evander?"
America remembered this balding, red-haired man from the last meeting of The Council. He'd been so nervous then, as he read his figures and explained their meaning. He seemed less nervous this time, though he was still a little shaky. "Thank you, Stavros." Evander nervously cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "At our last meeting, approval for Queen America rested firmly at 64% averaged amongst all castes. In light of the huge success of the Grateful Feast Parade, and most importantly, the expertly managed reveal of her pregnancy, approval for the Queen has risen 15 points, and now sits squarely at 79% averaged amongst all castes. We expect this number to continue to rise as, believe it or not, her belly grows." Evander shook his head, smiling at that note, and then lifted his eyes to America. They'd never exchanged a single word between them outside of meetings, and barely a handful of words in the meetings, but Evander and America had carried out whole conversations worth of looks across the long table. Raised eyebrows in exasperation at something Jepsen said or bitten lips trying to keep from laughing as Stavros tried not to lose his temper and threaten to put them all in time-out like the disobedient children they really were. This time America winked at him and then leant back in her chair so that her little belly seemed to puff out, extra big, in front of her. This amused Evander, as he removed his glasses and cleaned them on his tie.
"That's wonderful news." Maxon said, looking down at America's aforementioned belly. "She's tiny, our Queen, so Dr. Ashlar expects her belly to grow quite large in comparison. That'll be great for polling numbers. She'll be enormous, gargantuan, the first Queen in history to have 115% approval."
"Shut. Up." America glared at his teasing, but was unable to bite back a smile. There were chuckles all down the table, although Silvia cleared her throat pointedly. America supposed Queens weren't supposed to tell Kings to shut up during council meetings.
Maxon lifted their joined hands from his knee and brought her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them in apology, then he rested their hands on the arm of his chair and said, "Continue, Evander."
"Well, all of the numbers are wonderful for her Majesty, but the most promising improvement is her approval with Twos. It jumped from 55% to 70%. We think this has a lot to do with the social changes she's implemented in the last few weeks. Twos are aware that she isn't pushing for educational reform right now, and they feel their way of life is less threatened. Her public appearances have been on message and on point, and they frankly had a lot of fun guessing about her pregnancy."
America thought it was a high price to pay, giving up education and clinics in exchange for these numbers, but she was glad that, if she had to give up education and clinics, at least it was working. "Evander, what are my numbers amongst Fives?" America asked, biting back a smug smile. Fives were always her strength, her highest numbers.
Evander smiled, too. "92%, up from 70%."
America laughed at how absurdly high this number was. She knew these were the highest numbers she'd ever know in her lifetime, because there was only one 'first royal baby' for Maxon and her, but it was still fun to hear.
"So," Maxon said, also grinning, "The Two's, our toughest critics, now approve of America exactly as much as the Five's, our biggest fans, did only three months ago? That's how much ground we've reclaimed with them?"
"Yes, your Majesty." Evander confirmed.
"Wow, Ames, we need to have babies more often." Maxon shook his head, taking it all in.
Gavril spoke up, "Apologies for the interruption, Evander," Evander waved away the apology and Gavril continued, "In light of the Queen's wild, unprecedented popularity, I would like to suggest resuming some form of carefully curated public schedule. She's safer now, with nearly 8 out of every 10 people adoring her, than she will be at any other time in her reign. We won't send her far, and we'll send her with the best security we have. It'll show the rebels that we are still in charge, they can't control us with fear, it'll give people more of that baby bump they crave so much," Gavril winked at America, "And it will give our Queen an excellent opportunity to be amongst her people."
Silvia spoke up, in a no-nonsense tone that America was proud of. Some of Maxon's advisers were still under the impression that the Queen's council had no right to be at this meeting. Silvia's posture, tone, and manner made it perfectly clear that she more than belonged in the chair to the right of the Queen of Illéa. "All of Queen America's scheduling decisions filter through me, Adviser Fadaye, as you well know." There was a playful glint in her eye as she met Gavril's down the table. "The Queen's schedule has very little flexibility in it, between her duties at the Palace and her prenatal obligations. Dr. Ashlar is insistent that she sleep for nine hours every night, and that there be time in the afternoons, if not for a nap, then for a break. Any such excursions would have to tuck in nicely between medical examinations, the day-to-day management of this palace, and her duties to her country."
"I well understand the demands on her Majesty's time, I assure you." Gavril grinned, amused. "I would never attempt to schedule anything without your approval, and I would never jeopardize the health of our little heir by giving her Majesty more than she can handle."
"Hmph." Silvia said, and America smiled at the overprotective tone in her protocol expert's voice. "I'll be the judge of that."
"I'll be the judge of that." America laughed, and then intervened to save them all some time. "Gavril, proposals for public events to Silvia?" Gavril nodded. "Silvia, final list to Maxon?" Silvia bowed her head in agreement. "Maxon, final approval?"
Maxon almost couldn't believe the gift she was offering him, if the look on his face was any indication. Final approval on her public schedule for the next three months. It wasn't absolute control over her, but it would allow him to have a firm hand in keeping her and the baby safe, and help him feel apart of things. It would make her leaving the Palace so much easier on him. "Yes, America." he breathed, looking over at her, gratefulness bordering on reverence all over his expression. "Thank you."
"Very good. I agree with your proposal, Adviser Fadaye. Stavros? Shall we continue?"
"Yes, your Majesty." Stavros was battling a distinctly impressed smile when he returned his gaze to Evander. "You have more statistics for us?"
"I do, sir."
"Continue."
"King Maxon, throughout your reign your numbers have come in consistently in the low 50's. In light of the rebel hostage broadcast and the crisis that followed, your numbers have temporarily fallen. You now sit at 47%." Maxon frowned deeply. "We believe that, as time passes, your numbers will rise, and it is particularly good news that the rebel bombings you ordered and executed were viewed as decisive and strong leadership on your part. That will lead to even stronger numbers as the shock and fear that gripped the nation slowly ebbs away."
Maxon shook his head, disbelieving, "But I tabled my international summit. I unveiled the Southern Cleanup Initiative—"
"People are highly in favor of your Southern Cleanup Initiative, and the approval ratings on that project, combined with your food assistance program, give every indication that in the proceeding months, your numbers will surge. We project you at 57%, if nothing else changes."
"Will something change?" Maxon asked, bleakly.
"A lot can happen in three months, your Majesty." Stavros supplied. They were all thinking the same thing. If the rebels executed another major attack, it could set them back even further. "We'll be making every effort to get you in good graces with the people, and that will help."
"Fine." Maxon allowed, unhappily. "Our combined numbers, Evander?"
America gulped. Here were the only numbers that truly mattered. It helped that people liked her, and it would help if people liked Maxon, but all that really mattered to get this amendment safely passed, according to Stavros, was for people to like Maxon and America as a team.
"The combined approval rating for King Maxon and Queen America, averaged amongst all castes, now sits securely at 60%, up from 56%."
America blinked, slowly, willing herself to stay calm. They only rose four points? They'd moved mountains over the last few months to try to win favor with the people, and while it was great that everyone liked her, none of it mattered if she and Maxon couldn't raise that 60% to a 75% joint approval rating. And now they'd played the best card in their hand, the baby. This was the biggest leap they could reasonably expect for their joint approval numbers, the excitement surrounding a new baby, and all they'd gotten from it was four lousy points?
"Again," Evander said, sensing the palpable disappointment in the room, "These numbers are dampened by the events surrounding the rebel hostage crisis. They'll bounce back, and surge higher than ever, as people take time to mourn and process the national grief surrounding the losses of those hostages."
Stavros took a long drink of water, wiped a hand over his face, and then said, "Thank you, Evander." His tone didn't say 'thank you', though. His tone said, 'we're screwed'. He turned his gaze down to the rest of the table and continued with the official script he had to recite at all of these meetings. "As a reminder, our goal is to have 75% joint approval for their Majesties by December, and to, as much as possible in that time frame, improve support for aspects of the amendment, such as allowing for a princess to succeed the King over a prince, and dissolving the requirement that a princess forge foreign diplomatic alliances with her marriage. Castor, read that back."
America shared a dark look with Maxon as Castor read back Stavros' familiar quote.
Maxon's brown eyes swore up and down to her that he'd make this right. That he'd do everything in his power to get their numbers up, and they'd have that 75% if it was the last thing he ever did. America just couldn't quite imagine it was possible anymore.
Even if they jumped another, enormous four joint points in the next three months, they'd only be at 64%. And if they somehow, somehow managed to do it again in the months after that, they'd cap out at 68%. It would take an act of God to get to 75% in time to pass the law before the baby was born.
America nodded and smiled bravely at Maxon, who gave her hand a squeeze. They couldn't give up. They'd come too far, sacrificed too much, and their baby needed this from them. America reminded herself firmly of all the times she'd overcome worse odds in her life. The odds of being chosen for Maxon's Selection. The odds of Maxon choosing her once she was in his Selection. The odds of Maxon surviving the bullet wound to his chest that ended his Selection. Somehow, passing this amendment now felt like the most improbable yet.
