Addy knew beyond a doubt that on the other side of the world right that very second, Rosie was jumping up and down excitedly in the Palace movie theater as the Schreave kids, Gramma Magda, Aunt Kenna, Aunt May, and baby Max all watched the live television coverage of Andrew's coronation. It would be so early that it was technically the middle of the night, and everyone would take a nice long nap when this was done. It would be a pajama party of sorts, and the strangeness of being allowed to be awake in the middle of the night meant that this would be an event Lief and Rosie would remember forever.
The littlest Schreaves' excitement might have lulled after the dramatic initial aerial shots of the city of London featuring the massive, cheering crowds gathered en route between the palace and the cathedral. It would have picked up again when the bubbly television announcers informed viewers that the car pulling up to the cathedral steps contained the Illéan King, Queen, and Crown Princess. Addy was positive that there would have been much ooo-ing and ahhh-ing upon seeing Maxon, America, and Addy in their finery enter the cathedral on a long, well-photographed walk from their car into their reserved seats. But that had been nearly twenty minutes ago, there would have been a lull in energy for a while now.
She could imagine her youngest siblings growing bored, wiggling and yawning in their seats until the helicopter carrying a camera crew focused in on a gorgeous, ornate, ancient golden carriage and the television announcers told the world that Prince Andrew was officially on his way to the cathedral. Addy knew from photographs in Aunt Silvia's coronation briefing that the horse-drawn carriage he would be riding inside was something out of a fairytale book, and seeing it come to life, carrying one of their family friends no less, probably had Rosie bouncing off the walls. When they got home, Maxon was going to have to break it to her that the Schreaves didn't have a gorgeous golden carriage to take rides around town in. She would be so disappointed. And then she would probably ask her daddy to please make them one.
It was a grey, chilly, wintery noon, but Addy still thought it was too bright and too early to be wearing a full ballgown and her crown. Maybe she could decree that her coronation in two years could be a pajama party like her siblings at home were enjoying?
Trumpets blared announcing the arrival of Eoan's cousins, the next in line for the throne after Prince Lucas. "It won't be long now." Maxon murmured to his wife and daughter. "What do you think of it all, Bird? It's quite something, isn't it?"
"Mine isn't going to be this… medieval, is it? I feel like a dragon's about to pop out of the catacombs and take me hostage." All of the English nobility wore capes, some of them very long and unwieldy-looking, and to compliment the aesthetics, most of the women wore dresses that looked almost like costumes from a Shakespearean play. America's powder blue dress was extra full at the hips, though not nearly as wide as Queen Elizabeth the First's must have been, and Addy's own full skirt was complimented by a bodice covered in delicate embroidery like a tapestry. The long sleeves on Addy's dress even tapered over her wrists, coming to a point on her middle knuckles. She might as well have been King Arthur's Guinevere in this getup.
Maxon looked around the ancient cathedral again, marveling at the architecture. That humanity had been capable of crafting such wonders for so long, well before modern technologies existed to aid them, was something he found endlessly inspirational. "No dragons here, though there might well be some ghosts. There are some very famous historical remains housed here."
"I believe your father is hoping for ghosts." America realized, chuckling at her husband.
"There are worse ghosts to encounter than the ones who might dwell here, Ames, consider it." He grinned cheekily at his wife.
America shook her head at his enthusiasm and turned to Addy, "Your coronation will be much shorter and more modern than this, Bird. This coronation is an ancient ritual, and our is just a cheap knockoff."
Maxon huffed, "America! Ours is a fine institution—"
America winked at Addy, "I'll show you the part in Gregory Illéa's diaries where he talks about modeling the throne room after England's—"
Maxon scowled, "Honestly Ames, you're such a commoner sometimes."
"Oh," Addy played along with her mom, "Is that why we have to wear a long cape when we get coronated? Gregory Illéa wanted to play dress up like the King of England?"
America nodded enthusiastically while Maxon glared, "Adrienne, do not encourage your mother. We can denigrate the founder of our country and our monarchy's cherished traditions at home. We are in public, please behave like it."
Addy and America shared twin evil little smiles knowing that they'd successfully annoyed him.
The trumpets sounded again, loud and chipper, and Addy looked back toward the enormous doors so quickly and suddenly that her crown almost slid out of place. There, in the grand entryway, Queen Waverly and Prince Lucas entered arm-in-arm and began the long, slow walk to their place near the very front of the cathedral, off to one side, overlooking the ceremony from the best seats in the house.
As they passed, row by row, attendees sank into bows and curtsies. Waverly was still the queen for a few more minutes, after all. Addy's fingers twitched by her side as she waited for Luke to spot her, lock eyes with her, and try not to burst out laughing at how dressed up they both were. Addy in her gown, and Luke in his…
Luke in his…
Addy tried to remember if she had ever, in her entire life, seen Lucas in his full military uniform. She knew he wore it on every military holiday in England, but had she ever seen pictures? She'd seen it on his father, and she'd definitely seen photographs of Andrew wearing it, but looking at him now she felt absolutely positive she would remember if he'd ever worn that around her. At the very least, she'd never seen it in person: the rich, vibrant red of his jacket, the shiny, glinting gold of his tassels and the medals he wore to signify which branches of the military he sat on councils for. He wore a cape like many others in the room, and on his head he wore his crown. The crown, at least, was familiar to Addy. He held his arm out stiffly, oh so properly, so that his mother could place her arm on top of his for stability in her impressive heels and gown.
His bright white gloves looked impossibly soft, and for a wild moment all Addy wanted was to run up there and grab them off of his hands and brush them against her cheeks. In fact, the whole uniform was so beautiful, with so many little perfect details, that Addy wanted to stare for hours and touch every stitch and button. It was monumentally unfair that Lucas was walking right on by, disappearing from view.
She was so frustrated that she hadn't been able to enjoy all the little details of his official uniform, possibly so that she could tease him about them later, that at first she forgot to be annoyed that Lucas hadn't even noticed her in the crowd. She didn't play the redhead card often, but she and her mother were sort of hard to miss, especially when they were seated together like this. She'd wanted to make a silly face at him and try to get him to crack up on international television. Now that he and Queen Waverly were completely out of view, having disappeared into their seats near the dais, Addy found herself bored, even a little bit listless.
A choir closer to the entrance of the church began to sing England's national anthem, in the kind of perfect harmony that brought goosebumps to America's arms because she knew what it took to create such perfect art. Addy knew that this could only mean that King Eoan had arrived. Everyone in attendance bowed as King Eoan passed them by on the way to his throne for the final time. Addy had never seen him wear this particular crown before, but it was familiar nevertheless. Addy wanted to whisper to her mother to ask why that design, the cross and the jewels and the puffy red satin, were familiar to someone who'd never toured the Tower of London to view it before, but then it hit her.
There were two reasons Addy recognized that crown: she'd seen versions of it depicted in cartoons and illustrated children's books about fictional royalty for all of her childhood. England's monarchy really was the cliché prototype for what came after it, both real and imaginary. As a little girl obsessed with picture books, she'd always thought it was a silly mistake that commoners thought royals wore such a funny-looking crown.
And the other reason tugged at her memory of the photos she'd seen of her parents' coronation wedding: Addy was certain, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she'd have to wear some kind of knockoff of that crown on her own coronation day— something designed by King Gregory to look like the real deal to anyone who didn't know better. It would be his final revenge on Addy that she'd have to wear something so goofy in order to take over his country.
America wrapped an arm around Maxon and rubbed his back, which made Addy realize that her dad was getting a little choked up watching Eoan sit down on his ancient throne for the last time as king of his country. Maxon wasn't worried about the eccentricities of coronation ceremonies, he'd probably sat through dozens of them in his lifetime, including his own. He was thinking about his friend, Eoan, leaving behind the biggest, most important chapter of his life and moving into whatever comes next… the epilogue of a history book, the last sentence of a eulogy.
Addy leaned over her mother to whisper to him, "You can stay king if you want."
Maxon choked down a laugh and pressed a finger to his lips to silence his irreverent teenager, but Addy's plan had worked. Her dad was smiling again.
The crowd on the streets outside of the church grew raucous and the trumpets blared once more. Addy wiggled excitedly in her seat, knowing that this could only mean that Andrew had finally arrived.
When he at last appeared, he wore a long ceremonial cape and the Crown of the Prince of England. On his hip was a long, ancient looking sword, and in his hand he carried a scepter. It wasn't fair! Addy didn't have a special sword or a scepter! Addy wanted a sword to wear to official ceremonies, and her time as heir was almost over so even if she got one now, she'd barely have time to enjoy it. Why couldn't Gregory Illéa have copied Andy's awesome sword and not Uncle Eoan's stupid hat?
Andrew moved confidently, steadily up the aisle as the choir began to sing an ancient hymn, which reminded Addy that Andrew wasn't just becoming a king today; he was becoming the head of a church. He was going to be anointed. Honestly, he could keep the sword if it meant that Addy didn't have to become anointed. Being Queen was going to be hard enough.
When Andrew arrived at the altar, he knelt on both knees before his father, and the Archbishop moved to the side of the throne and began a long, monotonous prayer.
Aunt Silvia's briefing book had included a detailed section on the coronation ceremony, so Addy knew that this part was the newest, most modern addition to the ancient ritual. Kings and Queens of England had rarely abdicated their crowns until after the fourth world war, when the age of the heir became the trigger for a change of power, and not the death of the preceding monarch. Addy thought this way made much more sense: all of the ceremonies were fully prepared, everyone knew when the big day was coming, and they didn't have to do a funeral and a coronation back-to-back.
Carefully, the archbishop removed the king's cape, ring, and then his crown, handing each artifact off to nearby assistant bishops for safe keeping. When all that was left was Eoan, the man no longer king, he walked down the steps next to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder, murmuring a few words that no one but Andy could hear. Then he stepped aside and stood waiting, arms behind his back.
The whole room seemed to hold their breath as, for a few seconds, England technically had no monarch. Then Andrew rose, stepped forward, took his place on the throne, and the archbishop began the process of removing his princely regalia.
He would take his vows next, something all of the English people in this room would find the most moving, but for Addy this was the standout moment; this hiccough in time when both Andrew and Eoan were each stripped of their titles, just a father and son on one of the most important days of either of their lives. Addy knew she'd never forget the poignancy of that for as long as she lived.
The archbishop addressed the dukes, duchesses, lords, and ladies nearest the dais, asking if they would recognize King Andrew, and they all agreed. Addy glanced at her parents, eyes wide with excitement as they heard the words "King Andrew" for the first time in an official context. Andy had gotten nightmares at Illéa Palace once, when he'd been staying with the Schreave kids while King Eoan and King Maxon had been away at an international summit. Aunt Kenna had rocked him to sleep in the rocking chair in the nursery, and now he was King Andrew! Addy stifled a smile at the surreality of it all.
The archbishop led Andrew through his vows, and then Addy watched in equal parts wonder and befuddlement as a series of ancient relics were carried all over the place, Andrew was officially anointed with oil, and then, one by one, he began to receive the regalia that, minutes before, had been stripped from his father.
More than the King's ring, crown, and cape, Andrew also received some old gloves, an orb, a couple of scepters, and several other items Addy couldn't identify. He didn't have to hold them all at once, thank goodness, the ceremony seemed to hinge on him carrying a few of them around and praying about them, but still. Had he practiced not dropping anything? Addy's eyes widened nervously as she willed him to hold on tight. Finally, the trumpets blared again, and this time the English nobles at the front of the church cried out, "God Save the King!" and Addy realized, astonished, that it was done. Andrew was really, really the King of England.
From the place to the side of the altar where he'd been overseeing the ceremony, Eoan was the very first person to kneel to the new King.
Several of the assistant bishops carried the regalia of the Prince of England to the side and began handing them off. Addy craned her neck to try to spy what was happening, and when she realized what it was, she felt stupid and stunned and a little nauseous. Lucas was not a Prince of England anymore, he was the Prince of England, heir to the throne until Andrew married and produced his own heir. Luke was going to be miserable.
Just being the designated survivor for his family while they'd been worried about the threat of Swendway's bomb had taken a hard toll on him, and that had only lasted a couple of months. It could be years until Andrew had kids, it could be never! If Andrew didn't decide to have children of his own, one of Luke's future children would take over the throne once they were of age. Luke would technically remain the heir that whole time, so even if he turned around and married the first eligible duchess he saw, it could be a good twenty five years before Luke was as free as he had been just yesterday.
As various nobles took turns swearing to die for Andy, kill for Andy, and generally do whatever Andy told them to do, Addy tried everything she could to spot her poor roommate in his heavy new crown, but no matter how she arched her head, she couldn't see past the rows and rows of people.
Finally, the trumpets blared one last time, and the choir again sang the national anthem. This time, it was in honor of the new King Andrew, and Andrew carefully proceeded back out of the cathedral carrying the orb and scepter, to greet his subjects for the first time as their sovereign King. Lucas followed directly behind him, so Addy finally got her peek at her friend. This time, as he passed by in his new regalia, Addy managed to catch his eye. Instead of trying to make him laugh, she offered him the most reassuring smile she owned. He looked more nervous than he had the weekend before final exams, but returned her smile with a little quirk of his lips before turning his attention back to the procession in front of him.
Addy let out a long breath of air as Eoan and Waverly followed their children out in to the grey, chilly day. The foreign dignitaries around them were now growing chatty as they waited for the English nobles to finish filing out so that they could all go back to the Palace and prepare for the long night of feasting and dancing that still lay ahead of them.
Addy turned to her parents.
"Well Bird, wasn't that something?" Maxon asked, his voice still sounding a little thick with emotion.
"I don't think I ever really realized that Jamesy's going to be my heir once I'm crowned…" Addy said, shaking her head. Obviously she knew that he'd take over if anything happened to her, after all she'd recently seriously contemplated abdicating her throne to him. But it was another thing to realize that, as soon as her father's crown was placed on her head, her own crown would be placed on Jamesy's. She really didn't want him to have to bear that responsibility, even if only until she had her own child.
America's beautiful brow crinkled delicately with thought, "How will that work in our ceremony, Max?"
Maxon merely shrugged. His father and grandfather had been only children with no siblings to whom they could hand off responsibilities or crowns. "Silvia will know."
America chuckled, instantly reassured. Silvia knew everything.
Addy stretched her back and it crackled satisfyingly. She was more than ready for her turn to leave the pews even though they still had a while to go, judging by how long the people who'd been sitting closer to the front of the cathedral were taking to leave. "Do we have all of those artifacts, Dad? I really want a sword."
"No," Maxon chuckled, "Orb, scepter, and crown only. And only a couple of prayers. It'll be over far faster than you can imagine."
Somehow, that was less comforting than if Maxon had told Addy that she'd have to juggle a hundred royal artifacts while riding out of the church on a unicycle.
It was raining by the time it was Maxon, America, and Addy's turn to go back outside and into their car for the short ride over to the palace. English military officers held umbrellas over their heads, and while Maxon helped America in, a handsome young soldier with a perilously sharp jawline offered Addy an arm, and then made sure her dress was fully in the car before nodding a respectful bow to her and closing the door.
America elbowed Addy in the side when Addy continued staring out the window at the young man for a few moments too long, "Absolutely no romantic affairs with guards, young lady."
"Mom, what?!" Addy was scandalized by the insinuation, and her cheeks flushed pink.
"I don't think that's entirely fair coming from you, my love." Maxon taunted his wife.
America had no comeback, so she muttered something about Lady Kriss that Addy couldn't quite discern.
"I just thought he had a funny hat." Addy lied, still embarrassed that her mother had accused her of wanting to have a romantic affair.
"If you like him, get me his name and I'll enter him into your Selection." Maxon pretended to be magnanimous, when really he was still teasing his daughter for not having a better poker face.
"Oh my God." Addy covered her eyes with her hands, grateful that their car was now rolling away from the handsome guard in question.
Addy got to spend her whole afternoon getting ready for the evening's dinner and ball, which meant she got to eat her lunch while soaking in a gorgeous, if rickety and slightly small, bathtub. She and Astra had learned, from around the time that they were old enough to recognize such things, that the English palace was small and rickety in lots of surprising ways once you got up close to it. It had to do with being so ancient, and possibly with an ever-shrinking budget for repairs and general upkeep. It explained why Andy and Luke were always so excited to spend a week at Illéa palace with its expansive gardens, swimming pools, and private movie theater.
Addy's body was still fighting the time change from Angeles to London, but Bridget insisted that there would be no time for luxurious naps. Even if Addy wanted to nap, she wasn't sure she'd be able to manage it: the crowd in the streets outside of the Palace was absolutely, unrelentingly raucous. Addy could tell when Andy, Luke, and the rest of their family made their appearance on the balcony because the uproar was unmistakable.
Her gown for dinner and the ball was a shining, silver, off-the-shoulder satin that flowed like a river down her legs and skirted just above the tops of her heels. Addy thought it was the most perfect winter dress ever, and it fit with the "ancient monarchy transitions power via medieval ceremony" theme very nicely because it had lovely brocade ribbons criss-crossing down the back to mimic a corset. She got all new makeup to compliment her winter-moon themed look, and Bridget finished touching up the blazing red waves of her hair just in time for her parents, in matching navy ensembles, to appear in her doorway and escort her down to join the world's most important people in consuming the world's most ostentatious meal.
"I want to serve macaroni and cheese at my coronation." Addy whispered to her father, eyeing with intense mistrust the eel placed before her for course three out of twelve.
Maxon chuckled, "You'll be surprised how political a menu can get. Vegetables, fruits, seafood, cattle, pork... every sector of Illéan agriculture will need to have its moment in the sun. I know you'll want to favor the dairy farmers, and I can't blame you, but you'll need to be careful about that."
"Okay, we can have fish sticks too." Addy pretended to relent.
Maxon took a sip of his wine and gave her a reassuring look, "Don't worry about it, Bird, that won't be your problem to solve anyway. The coronation menu will be a job for your consort. Let him balance the politics and your tastebuds."
"I better hire someone willing to fight for my macaroni." Addy mused.
"Don't you mean 'marry'?" Maxon laughed.
"Same thing." Addy grinned at her mom, who was listening into their conversation from Maxon's other side, and did not appreciate the insinuation that she was her husband's hired help.
Maxon winked, going along with the joke, "Except that you can't fire consorts for poor performance."
"You two hereditary rulers better be careful." America warned them. "We consorts can fire Kings and Queens. The people like us better, and they choose us in the divorce every time."
"Hmm." Maxon considered as he took a bite of his eel. Addy did the same- the flavor was okay but the texture was heinous. Still, she and her father had both been schooled by Lady Silvia throughout their respective childhoods on how to maintain polite, pleasant faces while eating exotic cuisines. Addy soldiered through and sipped her own glass of wine to chase away the memory of the eel from her tongue. Maxon finished his bite at the same time and turned to Addy to continue their conversation, "Your mother may be correct, Bird. History is full of examples of kings and princes who divorced their queen consorts and damaged their reputations irreparably in the process."
"I'll play it safe then." Addy smiled, "I'll marry a macaroni chef."
"Oh, that would be a happy union." Maxon laughed his approval.
The twelve courses took two hours, and of course the dessert was Addy's absolute favorite of the evening. She even stole a few bites from her father's plate when he swore he was too full to eat another forkful of the complicated soufflé. Addy chastised her father for eating too much eel and venison and not keeping his eyes on the prize.
The politics of moving that many Kings, Queens, Presidents, Chancellors, and Prime Ministers from the dining room to the ballroom was hilarious, and once again Addy found herself forced to look placid and mild while feeling sleepy and bored beyond her wits on the inside. Again, she knew Rosie would have loved the fashion and the grandeur of the coronation, but she was glad her baby sister didn't have to suffer through this absolute nonsense.
As a small orchestra began to play, Addy and her parents finally got their turn to make their way into the ballroom. When the room was full and buzzing, and servants roamed the gathered throng offering trays containing crystal flutes of the finest champagnes, and thick glass tumblers of the most expensive whiskies in the world, a trumpet sounded and Uncle Eoan and Aunt Waverly were introduced for the first time as former monarchs. They appeared in the doorway, free from their regalia. King Eoan wore a different crown now, one that must have belonged to his own father years ago, and only sat on the head of the former monarch. Waverly had no crown at all.
Another trumpet song blared, this one different in ways that Addy assumed signified something important, and Prince Lucas, heir to the English throne was announced. Addy's heels made going on tiptoe completely irrelevant, but she still tried, and she craned her neck to get a good look at her roommate in what had been his brother's crown. She could only see the top of his head from her place in the room, and it wasn't enough. She needed to see his face, she needed to look into his eyes and make sure he wasn't totally freaking out. There was so much advice she could give him about being an heir, especially since he only had to carry the responsibility until Andrew had kids of his own. She just knew she could think of something that would relieve pressure she was sure he was placing on himself.
The English royals were the only ones who were supposed to take the first dance, as per tradition. Andrew's first dance was with his mother, and Eoan honored America by asking her to dance with him. Addy was so absolutely positive that Luke was one second away from appearing through the crowd and taking her by the hand to dance that she completely missed the fact that he'd taken Princess Camille from France instead until the music started and the dance was underway.
It made sense, Addy reminded herself firmly. For diplomatic purposes, England couldn't overrepresent Illéa by dancing with two members of the royal family and ignoring the rest of the world. If America was going to share in the prestigious first dance, Addy simply couldn't.
Cameras started flashing, capturing Luke's most charming smile as he spoke softly with the beautiful French princess (Addy could almost see her intoxicating accent on her lips as she bantered with him). Addy frowned, knowing exactly what the people of England would see tomorrow when they opened their newspapers and gossip magazines: a beautiful potential match.
Which was absolutely stupid, by the way, because Luke couldn't marry a foreign princess. He had his own crown, clearly situated atop his head, and he'd have his own land and responsibilities at home, even when he was no longer heir.
But France was such a short train ride away…
And so many wars had been fought for centuries in the early days of the French and English monarchies to try to consolidate that power under one royal house… how pretty the history would be if it was love that finally managed it…
And she was blonde, just like Luke's ex-girlfriend Vanessa. She was his type.
"Bird, Luke is allowed to have other friends." Maxon said softly in her ear so that he wouldn't have to raise his voice to be heard over the music.
Addy schooled her features immediately. "No, it's not that. Luke owes me money." she lied fantastically.
"Oh, really?" Maxon snorted.
"Yeah, I bought our burgers at the end of last semester and he never paid me back. I'm gonna take one of those medals off of him to settle the debt."
"Just don't start any international incidents that you can't finish, little Love." Maxon smirked.
Losing each other in the crowd became its own kind of dance for Lucas and Addy that night. She'd spy him without a dance partner only when she was already dancing with someone else, and he was far too much a gentleman to cut in. And inevitably, when that song was done, she'd make her way to where she'd last seen him only to find that he'd slipped away and was now somewhere else entirely, helping his parents play party host by chatting charmingly with a beautiful young heir from some far-flung corner of the world.
As the night went on, Addy entirely lost track of him for a half an hour. Just when she spotted him moving onto the dance floor with the Indian queen, Addy literally bumped into the Crown Prince of New Asia on her way to position herself in Luke's line of sight so that she could finally indicate to him, via pointed looks, that she wanted some of his time.
Addy made an 'oof' sound as Prince Sokha reached out a hand to steady her on her heels. "Princess Adrienne." he greeted her with a little bow, which she reciprocated.
"I apologize, Prince Sokha, I did not see you standing here." It was patently absurd. He was about as tall, dark, and handsome as they came and he cut an imposing figure, even in this crowd.
"There is nothing to forgive, your royal Highness."
Addy was ready to make an awkward excuse to get away from him when he extended a hand to her stiffly. "Would you care to dance?"
In her mind, Addy could just about hear how every one of Maxon's advisers would yell at her if she refused, not to mention Aunt Silvia having a fit of her own about the impoliteness of such a rejection. It would be fun to get that reaction out of them, but it would probably make a headache for her dad. Anyway, Luke would definitely find her if she was on the dance floor, and he'd have an easy chance to steal her away when the music ended. She accepted Sokha's hand and allowed him to lead her out.
For a man who never smiled in public, and who'd probably never slouched in his entire life, Sokha was a surprisingly easy dance partner. He was a strong leader, and Addy was able to relax in his arms once they got a feel for one another.
Finally, when she was sure she had her feet under her, she asked politely, "How is your family? I haven't had the chance to speak with your mother or father this trip."
"They are well, thank you for asking. I believe our fathers have found time to speak briefly about the situation in Chengdu."
"Good." Addy said, embarrassed that she hadn't even thought to check in with the New Asians about their joint military operations while they were all together. She'd ordered troops overseas for heaven's sake. Addy covered her awkwardness with another question, "And your brother and sister?"
"Also well. Kovit is performing his tour of duty in the military, and Tala is focused on her studies."
"Is Kovit in Chengdu?" Addy asked, alarmed.
"His location is classified for his safety. I am sure you understand." That was all Sokha meant to say, but when Addy still did not look relieved, he added quietly, "Kovit is stationed in the east."
Addy's mind flickered to a military map of New Asia, remembering that Chengdu was more toward the center, or even slightly to the west of the sprawling nation. She nodded, relieved. "Thank you."
"He will be pleased that you were concerned." He spun Addy and when she was securely in his arms again he added, "You know, there is a version of history where he would have been your betrothed. I remember before you were born, it was something my parents considered to be inevitable if King Maxon ever had a daughter."
Addy smiled politely, "I can think of worse fates. Kovit is kind and funny. He will make a good husband for someone, someday."
Sokha nodded once in agreement.
"And what about you?" Addy asked. "Is your family as strict about when you are to be wed as mine is?"
Addy wondered if she detected a hint of pity in his dark eyes as they met hers, "Negotiations are ongoing. Like you, I am to marry a citizen of my country. There is a considerable amount of regional politics going into the match, of course, and my father is looking for someone who will make a good empress. My mother is adamant she be a good match for my personality."
"They'll choose for you?" Addy asked.
"They will." Sokha tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, "Am I correct in saying that such arrangements are considered distasteful in Illéa?"
Addy smiled ruefully, "Not to me. My life would be a whole lot less complicated if the advisers and my parents would just choose someone for me. They're making me weigh the regional politics, job considerations, and personality all by myself."
"And you are still so young." Sokha said. He seemed warmer to her, more inviting. It had to be her imagination, because nothing about him had changed in any way, not the tone of his voice or the smooth, relaxed position of his brow. He was as stiff-lipped and stern as ever, but maybe Addy was learning to read him better now that they were having their first proper conversation with each other.
Sokha was about ten years older than her, and would likely be married within a few years of her wedding so that he would have plenty of time to begin producing and raising heirs before becoming Emperor.
Addy raised one of her bare shoulders and said, "You have decades before you will become emperor, God willing your father remains healthy and strong." Sokha nodded his thanks for her well-wishes. "I might be retired before you ever wear the crown. I am going to be Queen in just a couple of years. I'll need someone at my side to help lighten the load."
"How very practical." Somehow those words, coming from the most seemingly serious, practical person Addy had ever met, felt a little sarcastic. Before Addy could figure out if it was something about his tone of voice, or maybe some kind of imperceptible twitch of his lips that was lending his words that connotation, the song ended and he bowed to her. "Thank you for the dance, your Royal Highness. Enjoy the party."
Addy curtseyed to him, and watched him disappear into the crowd on his way to find a drink. She didn't snap out of her reverie, watching the place where he'd disappeared and trying to make heads or tails of his enigmatic behavior, until the next song began playing. Addy looked around and realized that Luke was gone again. She swore under her breath and hurried off of the dance floor. She could think about New Asia's next emperor later, for now she needed to find her friend and make sure he was holding up alright after being promoted to heir.
Addy was just finishing a glass of sparkling water served in a champagne flute, with frozen strawberries floating inside, and swearing to herself that she would find a reason to treat Lief and Rosie to this recipe when summer in Angeles arrived in full force, when Addy's godmother emerged from the crowd.
"Adrienne? You were looking for Lucas, weren't you?" Auntie Nic was stunning in her evening gown, flute of champagne in-hand.
America always said that Nicoletta could have married just about any man in the world, any time she wanted, but the politics in Italy would have made it a minefield for her to have a husband, and she enjoyed shamelessly flirting far too much to give it up forever. Before university, Addy had sometimes wondered about remaining single forever like her Auntie Nic, but once Addy agreed to her Selection (and learned how hard she fell when she fell for boys) the idea became nothing but a daydream.
Addy was tempted to ask how her godmother had known that Addy had spent most of this ball trying to find, and then just missing, Lucas but she decided not to question it. If she'd learned anything from fairytales, it was that sometimes godmothers were pure magic.
Nicoletta gestured toward the nearest exit, "I saw him slip out to the gardens for some air a minute ago. If you hurry, I'm sure you can catch him."
Addy pressed a kiss to Queen Nicoletta's cheek in gratitude and hurried away before Lucas could vanish again like some kind of fae prince.
The rain clouds had all dissipated by sunset, and now the night outside was crystal clear. The moon was a bright, beautiful silver in the sky above, and Addy matched it perfectly in her gown. She shivered against the December cold, following the sound of the marble fountain, knowing Lucas well enough to know that he would have been drawn in by its peaceful babbling just as she was.
Sure enough, when she rounded the corner, Luke appeared skimming his fingers along the water's surface, far away in thought.
"Isn't that freezing?" Addy asked, teeth chattering just a little.
Luke rounded on her, surprised, and his face split into a sunrise of a smile, "There you are. Where on earth have you been hiding? I've been looking everywhere for you." He wiped his damp hand on his trousers and then tugged his white uniform glove back on.
Addy laughed at his question, "Are you kidding? You're the heir of the hour, I can't keep up with you."
Luke lifted his hand to his new crown self-consciously, "It doesn't fit right."
Addy smiled up at him softly, "That's because the jewelers haven't resized it yet, silly."
"That's not really what I mean."
"I know what you mean." Addy promised him.
"Yes. I suppose you must." Luke leaned back against the fountain and heaved a heavy sigh, "I hope Andy hurries up and gets married. Actually, he could have a child out of wedlock and just officially recognize it; I'd be fine with whatever if I could get this thing off my head. I miss my crown. I hate wearing his."
"Poor little Prince." Addy moved to him with a pout.
"Seriously, Addy. Why does being heir feel like this?"
She wasn't exactly sure what he was feeling because, whatever it was, she'd been born with it. Asking her to feel it was like asking her to feel the blood in her veins. But she knew Lucas— thoughtful, quiet, brilliant. And she knew that being heir was a liminal state— a title to hold while you wait for what's next. Luke didn't know what was coming next for him so he had nothing to look forward to, and the pressure of constantly being on standby to take over in a crisis was crushing.
Addy studied him carefully as she measured her response, and she happened to notice that one of his cufflinks was coming unfastened. She lifted his wrist to fix it, "Sometimes when the telephone rings at our student house, my heart races because I think it'll be someone from the Palace telling me my dad's dead."
Lucas stared at her, frozen in place by the thought that such an innocuous item in their little home caused her such acute distress and he'd never noticed.
"That'll probably happen to you too now." Addy said, gripping his white-gloved hand now that the cuff link was secure. "It's hard being the backup plan for catastrophes. It never gets easy, but you do get used to it. You'll probably spend a lot of nights imagining every possible worst-case scenario, from illness to assassins to global war."
"That's not such a farfetched imagining these days." Lucas pointed out.
"No, but you'll still feel better if you make plans to deal with your worst nightmares. I wrote all mine out in a notebook when I was twelve. I'm pretty sure they all involved asking my mom for help." Addy smiled. "So if something happens to Andrew—"
"Ask your mom for help." Luke nodded.
"Exactly." Addy laughed, teeth chattering just a little.
Lucas blinked as if he'd just woken up from a deep, vivid dream and said, "You'll freeze to death if we stay out here, then where will we be? Come on, let's go back—"
"No, it took me all evening to find you, I don't want to lose you yet." Addy insisted.
Lucas nodded, glancing in the general direction of the party, "It's a mad house in there. I've never seen it like that before."
"No shortage of beautiful young ladies to dance with." Addy commented, shrugging one bare shoulder as if she couldn't be bothered to care.
"If that's true then why haven't I seen you dancing with any of them?" he joked.
"Because you've been monopolizing them all night." Addy tilted her eyebrow up at him in a challenge.
He got lost trying to think of a rebuttal, looking between her grey eyes slowly as the wheels turned in his head. Finally he gave up and began unbuttoning his vivid red coat.
"What are you doing?" Addy took an alarmed step back. Sure, she'd just implied that she was jealous that he was dancing with other girls, and yes they'd had that moment in the tree last Halloween when he'd all but admitted that he still had feelings for her, but that didn't mean that she wanted him to strip down in front of her! What if they were seen?
At the horrified look on her face, Lucas started to laugh hard. He had to put a hand on the fountain to keep his balance as he doubled over with laughter at her expense. "Relax." he finally managed to gasp out, a single tear escaping his eye as he finished with the last button and removed his uniform jacket. "I'm just trying to keep you warm in an entirely respectable manner."
He slid the coat around her bare shoulders and she was instantly ten times warmer; the thick fabric blocked out the cold effectively and it still held in the warmth from his body. Addy looked down, smiling triumphantly. All she'd wanted when she first saw this jacket on her friend that morning at the coronation was permission to touch it. She wanted to fiddle with the tassels and run her fingers along the medals and see if it felt as soft as it looked. She was surprised to note that it was not, in fact, soft. It was heavily starched and made of stiffer fabric than she had guessed. She wasn't disappointed, though. In a way, she preferred this because everyone else in the world would go right on thinking it was dreamy soft, and only she got to know the real truth.
Addy looked up at him, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold around them, "You say this is respectable, but did you just hand over command of some of your armed forces to me?" she nodded her chin at one of the medals indicating his patronage of the Royal Navy.
Luke laughed "Only until I take the jacket back."
"No, it's mine now." Addy pretended.
"Such a spoiled princess." Lucas mused as he adjusted the collar for her, then straightened the lapels, hands falling perilously near to her rapidly rising and falling chest. When he realized how inappropriate this contact probably was, he lifted his eyes to hers in a wide apology. His gaze locked onto hers by the light of the moon.
In her mind, Addy swore like a sailor.
It was a trap. The moon was high in the sky of London, that had been Addy's first mistake. So silly, so avoidable, but now here she was, cozy in that gorgeous red uniform jacket, held close to him by strong gloved hands that could absolutely tell how fast she was breathing now that their eyes were locked together. She'd stood in this exact spot with him years ago, and he'd leaned in to kiss her, and she'd told him off for it. For a moment, time seemed to collapse. For a moment, she was sixteen again and she hadn't made any mistakes with her life yet, and maybe this time she could just relax and have fun…
Lucas knew all of the reasons they shouldn't be standing so close together, making eyes at each other like this. She could save her quickened, shallow breath on that front. It was Andrew's first night as King, and her coronation was next. Before that, even, she would host a Selection and marry a man— an Illéan man. Luke would have to live his entire life watching her be married to someone else, and she'd have to sit near the front of the cathedral at his wedding and try to avoid meeting him outside at this fountain during the reception because if they did…
And she needed him to be her friend, she absolutely could not negotiate on that. Other people could take on more or less important roles in her life as years passed, and that was to be expected, but not Luke. Luke had to stay.
If only she wasn't so tired. Not just from the jet lag, but from years of keeping these feelings under the tightest lid imaginable. That almost-kiss had haunted her for so long now. If she let this moment pass, she might never get another chance. Then she would have to live the rest of her life not knowing. If she was this tired at eighteen years old, how tired would she be when she was thirty-six? When she was fifty-four? When she was seventy-two? Addy stopped doing math in her head and let her brows pinch together with the pain of what she was about to ask him.
"Are you absolutely sure?" she whispered.
Luke knew full-well what a quagmire he was getting himself into, but maybe he could see that this was what she needed. He'd always been so good at knowing what she needed, even when they were little kids. He used his jacket to pull her closer, but she could still turn this into a hug if she wanted to. It was her job to close the final inches that separated their mouths.
Addy didn't know if she was falling or flying until her cold lips connected with his warm ones, her hands slid around his waist of their own accord, and he wrapped one arm around her shoulder to hold her steady. She fit so perfectly in his arms, like it had always been her place, and everything inside of her started screaming. She had hoped he'd be a bad kisser, or it would be awkward to kiss someone she'd known since they were in diapers, or that his breath would smell like the eel from dinner. Why did it have to be good? Why did it have to be a fairytale come true? Why did he fit her like a glass shoe, a princess at a ball, when they only had until midnight?
Tears were streaming down her cheeks when he pulled back and he lifted his free hand to her cheek, gently brushing away the tears with his gloved thumb. "Goodness. That bad, am I? Don't tell Andy, he'll never let me live it down—"
But Addy didn't laugh at his attempt to break the tension. She closed her eyes and leant into his touch, remembering as if from another life how she had longed to feel these velvety gloves on her cheek when she'd first seen him wearing them that morning. She placed her hand over his and pressed it closer to her face, not ready to let go yet.
She remained entirely in earnest as she confessed, "It wasn't bad. It was better than I ever imagined."
Lucas kindly refused to press her on her imaginings, though he tucked that little detail away to consider later. Instead, he stared over her shoulder for a long time in the middle distance, eyes unfocused. When he spoke, his thoughts were entirely organized, "I'm okay with this, Addy."
"What? But Luke—"
"I have obligations to England, and you're the next Queen of Illéa. You made a promise to your people to hold a Selection, and you're not going to disappoint a nation of millions for any one person. I've had a lot of time to think it over… I'm okay with whatever small piece of you I can have, for as long as you're able to let me have it. Even if it's just tonight. Even if it's just right now. You're not going to lose me forever over not being able to kiss me anymore."
Addy blinked, thinking about how Astra and Andrew's friendship might never recover. It had been years and they'd still only exchanged a couple of awkward conversations. Addy and Luke had both seen it first hand, a cautionary tale from their worst nightmares. "If what you're saying is true, then you're stronger than him." Addy said of King Andrew.
"You wouldn't believe the strength it takes to be the second-born, Adrienne." Lucas' voice held a dead-serious edge to it that she'd never heard before. Addy had to slow down her racing mind to consider his words properly. To be that close to power and never touch it, to be that close to history and never write it… was it really so different from kissing a girl he couldn't hope to keep?
"I don't want to hurt you—"
"We're way past that point, and it's not your fault." he reassured her. "We sailed right on past safe harbor before you ever realized I had feelings for you. What's done is done. If I'm going to give you up one way or another, I'd just as soon actually have you first. If it's all the same to you."
Was it all the same to her?
Would it hurt any less if she walked away now or if she stayed right here in his arms until the day she drew names for her Selection?
Addy scowled and stomped her foot petulantly, her heel making a loud click against the paved pathway under their feet, "This is so… ugh, so inconvenient."
He laughed, sounding every bit as tired as Addy felt, "You have no idea, Love."
It was like electricity had filled her veins, Addy's toes and fingertips seemed as if to tingle, and Addy knew at once that she was a gonner. She hadn't been prepared for that little, ordinary, domestic term of endearment; the word her father called her mother a hundred times a day, but in that accent directed at her. She had no defenses prepared for it, and she didn't stand a chance against it. The casual way it had fallen from his mouth. The way he hadn't given it a second thought.
She leant in for a second kiss, her mind made up.
They could have this little, quiet, simple thing. No one would ever know. Unlike her first kiss, there would be no photographs of this, so it would never belong to the tabloids or the gossip columns. And unlike the kisses she would share in her Selection, it wouldn't belong to the history books or to political news coverage, or to televised Selection specials. It would be theirs for as long as they could keep it.
They were graduating in five months anyway, and the harm was already done.
Somewhere across town, a clock chimed midnight.
They stayed out there, safe in each other's arms, until they were absolutely positive that someone was going to notice that they were missing. The moment they were in the hallway leading to the ballroom, Luke accepted his jacket back from Addy and made sure it was perfectly positioned on his own body before they proceeded.
Nicoletta spotted them almost right away, and hurried over, "Little Bird, your parents have been looking for you."
Addy's eyes widened and she met Luke's gaze in a panic. How had her parents known? Sure, sometimes she thought her mom could read her mind, but this was excessive!
Nicoletta took Addy's chin gently in hand and firmly wiped the bottom of Addy's lower lip, taking a long sip from her flute of champagne as she fixed Addy's smudged lipstick. "Mhmm." she nodded, then rounded on Luke. She peered at his mouth for a moment longer than was entirely comfortable, but she finally nodded, certain he didn't have anything incriminating on his lips. "Okay. Maxon came by earlier and asked if I had seen you. I told him I had no idea where you were, but that I knew you were around here somewhere."
Addy threw her arms around her godmother, filled with eternal gratitude. What would Addy have done if her special moment with Lucas, the one she'd been waiting her whole life for, had been interrupted by her parents? It was a moment in time that she would quietly treasure for the rest fo her life, and she only had it because Nicoletta had been keeping watch for her.
The Queen of Italy turned to Lucas with a smile, "Now, you owe me a dance."
If she'd really kept Addy's dad from discovering him with his tongue in Addy's mouth, Lucas completely agreed that he owed her a dance. He'd even offer her a few of the crown jewels if she'd take them, it was the least he could do.
Addy found her father standing huddled with her Uncle Eoan, whispering seriously in an otherwise abandoned corner. When they saw her approaching, they split apart instantly and she found herself the recipient of their undivided attention.
Did they know the deal with the devil that she and Luke had just made? Had Eoan's spies informed him the moment Addy pressed her lips to Luke's? It was possible…
"Bird, thank goodness. Where were you?" Maxon looked too relieved.
Addy pressed her lips together hard, finding a lie that was as close to the truth as possible. "Luke and I were talking outside. What's wrong? Were you scared?"
Maxon pressed a hand to her shoulder, "I… I knew you hadn't gone far. It's just—"
Addy should have realized. The King of Swendway was here, she should have known her dad would be on edge. She had no idea how long she and Lucas had been outside; long enough that the ball was winding down and drunk dignitaries were slowly trickling back to their rooms.
"Something has happened." Eoan filled the silence. "I'm so sorry, Addy. We need you to handle it if you can. Andrew's absence would be noted, and this is rather sensitive."
"What is it? What's wrong?"
Eoan and Maxon shared a meaningful look, and then Maxon leant down to whisper in Addy's ear, "Queen Ragna has begged asylum from the country of England. She's afraid to return to Swendway."
Addy leaned back, eyes as wide as saucers.
Eoan looked around the room nervously and then said loudly, "There's a marvelous old bust of George IVth in the portrait room next door. Come have a look, Maxon, see if you can spot any familial likeness. I'm told I have his ears, you know…"
Addy blinked. Her uncle was pretending, rather convincingly, to be tipsy.
"Oh, alright then." Maxon loudly played along. "Bird, come with me. We need to keep an eye on this old retired man or he'll have a vicious hangover tomorrow."
Addy accepted her father's arm and they followed the former king down the hall to a dark, empty room full of giant portraits of ancient dead people, and Eoan said, "Waverly and America are in a car with Ragna now. They're taking her to one of our palaces north of the city."
"So you're letting her stay?" Addy blinked.
"Of course we are. She asked for our help, why would we refuse?"
"Because Swendway has a city-destroying weapon that could kill us all." Addy reminded her godfather, too shocked to mince words.
Maxon pressed on, "King Thorvald has noticed his wife's disappearance. He's waiting for news of her whereabouts just on the other side of those doors there. He's enraged."
"Yeah, obviously!" Addy scowled, rolling her eyes at her dad.
"Adrienne, this is no time to be a teenager, you need to focus." Eoan warned her gently. "This is an enormous opportunity for us. Thorvald does not miss Ragna because he adores his wife and cannot bear to be separated from her. When the media learns that she's claimed asylum, the world will find out that he's an unfit husband. His people will learn that he's not the virtuous king he's always claimed to be. There's already an organized rebellion against him, this could make it ten times worse. That's what he's truly angry about."
Addy turned to her father and godfather, "So what's the plan? What are we going to do?"
"There's nothing I can do, I am retired." Eoan reminded her. "And if Andrew leaves that party, there will be questions as to why. Questions we don't want asked until we've gotten concessions out of Thorvald, do you understand? The only leverage we have is that this is a secret. If it gets out, then Thorvald's reputation is ruined and we'll have nothing left to bargain with."
"So it's just you and me?" Addy asked her dad.
Maxon frowned down at her, "Let me ask you something, Bird. Do you… do you need me in there?"
Addy stared at him, "Are you kidding? Dad!"
Maxon pressed his hands hard to the pockets of his tuxedo jacket and nodded, "Of course. I'm sorry, Addy, I don't know what I was thinking."
"Why would you even ask—"
"I'm a silly, tired old man. But I can keep throwing punches for a little longer, Love." Maxon promised, not entirely convincingly.
"Daddy, you are not old. Stop that." Addy pressed a kiss to her father's cheek.
She could almost hear her mom's voice from the plane ride to England, warning Addy that they would have to take good care of Maxon on this trip. That this would be the hardest thing they had ever asked him to do.
Maxon rubbed a hand over his face, fighting to maintain his composure. "This man hired someone to steal you and your mother from me. He funded domestic terrorism within our borders. And now, not twenty years later, going in there and asking him politely to disarm a weapon he's not even supposed to possess in exchange for ensuring his reputation remains untarnished by his wife fleeing him in fear…"
Addy tried to read his face, "Are you mad? Are you sad? What is it?"
"I am furious and I am devastated, and I thought that enough time had gone by that I wouldn't be so compromised by both." he admitted, disappointed in himself. "I am not a young and untested king anymore, but I am still hounded by this, and I don't know why I can't shake it. I am the most I will ever be, and still I do not feel… Ah, never mind, my love."
Addy's mouth realized her decision before her brain had time to catch up, "You know what? You might be on to something, Dad. Let me go in there and try by myself. He'll be expecting you; he'll have prepared to face off against you. He won't know what he's getting with me, and he'll underestimate me. I think I can use that to my advantage."
Eoan shook his head slowly, "I don't relish the idea of you being alone with him, Princess." he used the moniker like a term of endearment and Addy gave him a small, brave smile.
"I'll scream if he tries to hurt me. Then Dad can finally fulfill his fantasy of punching Thorvald's teeth in."
"There could be far worse outcomes to the evening, I suppose." Maxon admitted.
"Besides, Mom was right when she said that he's not here to be violent. He's here to use the weapon he made as a bargaining chip to gain prestige and power. He can't have any of that if he tries to hurt me."
Eoan allowed, "Adrienne, you are more than capable of handling this politically. You've been well-trained by Maxon, you're months away from having a world-class degree in International Relations, and I've personally seen what you can do these past months… You have my support, but be bloody careful. If he harms a hair on your head, there'll be hell to pay."
She and her godfather both turned to Maxon, and Addy waited with bated breath. Maxon traced her cheekbone with his thumb, "Of course you have my support, sweetheart. You always will. But I shall be right outside this door if you need me."
Addy glanced down at her dress. The renaissance princess look wasn't what she wanted to wear going into a high-stakes geopolitical negotiation. She missed her Dearwood power suit, her spiky heels. She was wearing Katherine Illéa's beautiful feminine tiara, but if she'd known she needed a tiara for a negotiation, there was a severe, spindly one back home that had belonged to Queen Abby that would have been perfect for intimidating any man.
Still, maybe the innocent damsel aesthetic would keep Thorvald off his guard with her. She had to hope so, because there wasn't time for a costume change. Addy turned to the ornate door separating the portrait room she stood in from the drawing room next to it and took a deep, deep breath. What was the worst that could happen? She pushed the words nuclear war out of her mind just as she pushed open the door.
When Addy stepped inside of the drawing room, she found King Thorvald standing with his arms crossed, looking out of the enormous windows to the street below, where crowds still danced and cheered.
"What are they even celebrating? Andrew is exactly the same as his father." Thorvald complained, his voice low and stilted.
Addy took a gulp of air, her mouth bone dry. She stepped closer across the huge, dark room, lit only by two table lamps on either side of an enormous empty fireplace. "Sometimes people just want an excuse to have fun. This is as good as any."
"Hmm." Thorvald considered her words, still frowning at the distant revelers.
Addy came to a stop when she was standing next to him. She was surprised to find that, in her heels, they were the same height. In another world he would have been like family to her; another figure to help guide her on her path to becoming Queen. But in this world…
"Why'd you try to have me killed?" Addy asked bluntly. She could pretend it was an opening gambit, a ploy to throw him off, but really she was just tired of guessing.
Thorvald snorted, peeking over at her from the side of his eye, amused. "It was nothing personal. Your father was unpopular, and his policies were an insult to Illéa's strong ties to Swendway. First dismantling the castes, then surrendering the New Asian war… Swendish soldiers died in New Asia defending Illéa, not that Maxon gives a damn about that. And after everything else, he altered the inheritance laws… laws that were modeled on the precedent set by Katherine Illéa… the precedent you should have followed."
"What, let my little brother cut in line for the throne because he has different body parts than I do?" Addy challenged.
"Of course not!" Thorvald shook his head at her theatrics. "You should have married a foreign prince to secure diplomatic ties. Where would Swendway be if Katherine had not forged such a noble path? Where would the Illéan monarchy be, without the credibility our family leant it? You could have secured blood ties with another monarchy for your country and ours. We are family, and you had the opportunity to grow our family."
"There are other ways to make alliances now, you know." Addy pressed.
"Other ways. Not better ways." he countered.
Addy shook her head, "So you hired a madman to torture my family because I wasn't going to be betrothed at birth so that you could negotiate a better trade deal on citrus fruit with some other country?"
Thorvald pinched his lips together, "I funded a rebellion led by people who wanted to place me in power. The madman was… a byproduct. It's not like I hired him for the job."
Addy turned away from the window and leant back against it, studying the bad King's face. He was the villain in her father's nightmares, and he was the terrible family secret she'd spent ages trying to figure out. But he was also a tired old man, at this time of night.
"What I can't figure out is why you tested your bombs now. You haven't even officially announced them to the world. Only a handful of world leaders know you have them, and we're trying not to scare everyone else by letting them know. Why tip us off before the big announcement?"
Thorvald gave her a sidelong look and said, "I saw another opportunity."
Addy blinked, "What, like when there was rebellion against my dad?"
Thorvald tilted his head to the side, "Something like that. Your little adventure in the tabloid magazines gave a lot of your people cause to doubt you. The same sort of people who might prefer a more traditional leader."
"A man?"
"Someone from the Illéa bloodline. Not a Schreave."
Oh. Wow.
Addy raised her eyebrows, surprised by the very old prejudice. She and her family never split hairs about the Schreaves and the Illéas. Technically she knew that Cousin August wasn't her father's cousin by blood, but they were family by an old marriage. That was plenty for them. In fact, Addy so seldom thought about the Crisis of Inheritance that she had to wrack her brain for the historical details. One of Gregory Illéa's sons fled, the other only had one son who died suddenly. Gregory Illéa chose to make his brother-in-law's grandson his heir. Honestly, thinking about it now, it's exactly what her dad would have done. He'd have trusted Astra, Leo, Rogan, or even baby Max to be his heirs in an emergency, because he'd have confidence in how they were raised. And didn't Astra, Leo, Rogan, and baby Max count as Maxon's family? It was such a silly old gripe about lineage. "So you're not just mad that a girl is on the throne instead of selling her body for trade deals, you're made that the Schreaves took over when Gregory Illéa's line failed?"
"That crown has been ours by rights for centuries."
"You understand that if Katherine had been permitted to stay in Illéa and marry whom she chose, she'd have been in line for the throne that went to my ancestor instead. It's your own stupid system that cost you Illéa." Addy was wasting her breath, he was never going to change his mind. His entire life was dedicated to this worldview, and he was in too deep to abandon it. Besides, she wasn't here to be Thorvald's salvation. She had her own endgame. "So you developed a nuclear weapon because I was caught kissing a boy in a swimming pool?"
"Please. That bomb was decades in development." Thorvald scowled, finally moving his full focus from the revelry outside to her. "You simply offered me a perfect opportunity to debut it."
"You think the people of Illéa will see me, a girl with a boyfriend, and you, a man with a nuclear weapon, and decide to put my crown on your head?"
He stared at her, his blue eyes icy cold, and then he said, "I am not delusional. I know that my window of opportunity to unite our countries under one throne has closed. I'll never rule Illéa, but enough Illéans support by claim to the throne that I can make your reign a living nightmare if that is what it takes to secure Swendway's future."
Addy did not blink, but neither did she breathe. "If that's true, then I should let word of your wife's asylum claim spread far and wide. Your reputation will be permanently ruined, and I can rule in peace."
He frowned, but did not speak.
Addy looked a the clock on the mantel atop the dark fireplace and sighed. It was late and she wanted to see Luke again. "Listen, here's what's going to happen. No one will ever find out that your wife claimed political asylum. You can say she's staying in the south of England for her health. Your reputation as King will be as good as it was before you came to the coronation, which should help your little rebel problem."
"In exchange for what?" he snarled, but Addy could tell he was all bark and no bite. His wife fleeing him had defanged him.
"Everything we discussed this morning: No more weapons program. Allow neutral inspectors into your country to ensure you're complying."
"The trade deals? The political normalization?"
"That all stays." Addy nodded. "But no Swendish diplomats in Illéa Palace. They can come at invitation from the monarch, but they leave at the end of the day." Addy knew how much better her mom and dad would feel without having to be afraid that there were Swendish operatives in their home during business house from Monday to Friday.
Thorvald didn't like being the only country in the world whose ambassador would not be offered the courtesy an office in the Palace, but he bit his cheek and nodded. "Deal."
"That's not all."
Thorvald narrowed his eyes at her threateningly. What was he threatening to do? Send a madman after her while she was still a baby in her mother's stomach? He'd already done that. Hold the city of London hostage so that he could look strong for a bunch of Illéans who would rather have a foreigner on their throne than a girl? Addy sighed, bored.
"You can't keep the bomb. You know why."
"I cannot give it up. You know why."
Addy crossed her arms and tapped her fingers gently, "We can offer you shows of goodwill. We had a great harvest this year, do you want some Illéan pumpkins?"
"Pumpkins aren't going to cut it, Princess. The newspapers in Swendway have already gone to press announcing our successful accomplishment. I refuse to go home without a queen or diplomatic leverage."
"You don't need leverage, once diplomatic relations are normalized and you've signed back on to trade deals. Then if you want something, you use those mechanisms. You don't storm up to your allies and threaten them with annihilation if they don't give you everything you want right when you want it."
"That's exactly what I intend to do." Thorvald insisted with a cruel smile.
He was still playing a finite game, convinced that the only way to win was to decimate everyone else on the board.
"What about your heir?" Addy demanded. "What about my cousin? You're not going to live forever."
"I'm going to leave her with the strongest Swendway in generations."
"And you're going to leave her with absolutely no international friends."
"Our diplomatic relations will be normalized—"
"I didn't say allies, I said friends. Look at the friendship between my dad and King Eoan. When we found out that you had a nuclear weapon within range of London, all Eoan had to do was call my dad… he barely had to ask. There was an armada of ships representing every major military force in the world in the north sea within days. That's a friend. Who is your heir supposed to call if the Russian Federation decides that they want to expand their borders a little further, or they want to squeeze your economy with tariffs? Your heir needs friends. Without them, Swendway isn't nearly as strong as you think."
It was tempting to scoff at this teenager lecturing him about the importance of friendship, but it was hard for Thorvald to deny that she had a point.
"Look, you don't have to tell anyone that the bomb is gone." Addy negotiated. "Just let the inspectors diffuse it or… however that works… neutralize it. You can keep the shell, and no one ever has to know it's a dud."
"And if Swendway is attacked in the future? The bomb would be useless."
"You saw how fast my dad can put together an armada." Addy reminded him.
Thorvald huffed a breath, but he didn't look like he was fighting the idea anymore. After all, safely storing a nuclear weapon was expensive, and if he could have all of the benefit of deterrence without the expense of maintaining the arsenal…
"There's on more thing." Addy said, "I don't want to have to deal with you posturing to try to steal support from me during my reign. I'll have plenty of real problems to deal with."
"I give you my word." he said so easily that it meant nothing.
"I don't want your word." Addy stood up from where she'd been leaning against the window, shoulders straight, "You will come to Illéa for my coronation, just like you came to my father's."
Thorvald looked like he'd rather not, but it wasn't going to mess up his plans too much. In fact, if he was standing right there, a clear alternative to Addy, it might even help his visibility amongst those who disagreed with the Schreave agenda. The more they agitated against her, the more leverage he had to get concessions from Addy in exchange for lending her his public support.
"Very well." Thorvald agreed easily.
But Addy wasn't finished. "You will come to Illéa for my coronation, and you will kneel to me."
There was a long, dangerous canyon of silence before Thorvald spoke in a low, terrifying voice, "I will do no such thing."
Any foreign dignitaries in attendance would be expected to bow to Addy, just as they always greeted other world leaders, as a sign of respect for one another's positions and for each others' countries. But only citizens would kneel. Kneeling meant subservience.
"The cameras won't be on you, not a soul outside of that room will see it. But I will see it." Addy said, seriously. "And I will know that you and I understand each other. That you will not try to take my crown, my kingdom, or my future children from me. And once we're clear on that, we can move forward into the future together. Do you understand me?"
"Swendway does not kneel to Illéa. Illéa owes its existence to Swendway—"
"I'm not asking Swendway to do anything. I am telling you that I will protect your reputation, you will get everything that we negotiated, and Illéa will be a good friend to your heir. But you will come to my coronation and kneel to me as a show of good faith, or I will go outside right now and let the world know that your wife is claiming political asylum in England, and we can start this negotiation over once you're done dealing with your rebellion."
Thorvald took three long, deep breaths as he waited for her to falter, waited for her to show that she was bluffing. But she had his queen, and she had him in check. The game was all but over.
Finally he gritted out, "On one condition."
Addy raised her eyebrows, surprised that he was still trying to negotiate, "What?"
"Gift that tiara to Swendway." he tilted his chin to Addy's head.
Addy's heart squeezed in her chest. Katherine Illéa had been the last princess of Illéa before her, she had been Addy's inspiration all her life. Addy had been so excited to wear Katherine's crown the first time she'd seen it, and she'd felt just like the beautiful lady in that enormous portrait as her father had placed it on her head.
Addy narrowed her eyes at Thorvald, convinced he was just being petty. "It's not your size."
"It's not for me." Thorvald growled, his accent becoming more pronounced as she continued to try his patience. "It is for my daughter, Yngrid. She is my only child, and Katherine's true heir. It belongs with her."
Addy looked down at her polished nails to buy herself a moment. She didn't want to give up Katherine's crown, but as today had reminded her, she'd have a different set of crowns once she became queen. She heard her father's voice in her head from the night of her last birthday, begging her to share Amberly's tiara with Maisy because she was Maisy's grandmother too.
Katherine was probably Yngrid's inspiration, same as Addy.
Addy held the hand she'd been examining out to Thorvald and, in his surprise at the gesture, it took him a long moment to shake on it.
Then, without wasting a second, Addy unpinned Katherine's tiara and handed it to Thorvald. "For Yngrid. Not for you." Then she turned around and left.
Eoan and Maxon were desperate for an update, but Addy was running on fumes. Maxon panicked when he saw she wasn't wearing her crown anymore, but Addy giggled, "I didn't give away the Kingdom, Dad. Everything's going to be okay. I'll explain when Mom and Aunt Waverly get back."
She had just enough time to take a quick, hot bath and change into her pajamas. When she emerged in her bedroom, Maxon, America, Eoan, Waverly, Andrew, and Lucas were all in there waiting nervously. Andrew, poor thing, hadn't even had time to change out of his coronation suit.
Addy sat on her bed and explained everything: the exact terms of the negotiation, down to Katherine Illéa's tiara. When she was done, Andrew wrapped her in a huge hug.
"Well done, Bird. You couldn't have done any better, even if I'd been there myself! This is the best coronation present you could ever have given me, you know. Now none of my neighbors shall have weapons of unspeakable destruction pointed at me!"
Addy smiled weakly, still a little in shock about it all.
Lucas had been keeping way more space between them than normal, probably overcompensating for their illicit fountain meeting earlier in the night, but since his brother had hugged Addy, he decided it was appropriate to hug her too.
"You're… You're just the most brilliant. You're stunning. I can't…" he was at a loss for words to express his feelings, but his eyes were doing plenty of talking.
Everyone had something good to say about Addy's negotiation, especially her mother who was overcome with the thought of not having to invite hostile Swendish operatives to take an office in their home. Addy had to stay up extra late that night and get on the phone with her father and the advisers back in Angeles so that they could begin drafting the official agreement to wire over to Swendway by morning. It would take a couple of weeks to iron out the language, but Maxon assured everyone on the call that he would sign it as soon as it was ready.
Maybe that night, as Addy struggled to fall asleep despite her exhaustion, she should have thought about how much faith her father and godfather had placed in her to handle the negotiation, or how relieved the entire English royal family had been that they weren't going to have to live in fear of Thorvald anymore, but she just kept thinking about her first kiss with Luke, and his words that night in front of their families. Brilliant… stunning…
Those words were still echoing in her head the next morning as she drank her tea and ate her toast, dressed for the plane and packed her bags, all the way until she hugged Lucas goodbye on her way to the airport to go home. That's when he whispered, so that no one else could hear, brand new words that would take precedence in her mind for weeks: I'll see you soon.