My assent.
My pulse begins to pound, a battle drum on the front lines of a war I wasn’t even aware I was fighting. I tell myself to form the words — those harmless two words, the ones I know he expects to hear. The same ones that have been spoken by every Lancaster leader for more than a century, a line of well-behaved figureheads complying with their constitutional duties.
I assent.
Only… when my lips part, nothing comes out. I do not say the words. I cannot. Instead, I am assaulted by all the ramifications of my own acquiescence.
If I assent… am I an accomplice in the continued discrimination against my own gender?
I hear Carter’s voice, whispering at the back of my mind.
You are a queen.
Stop acting like a pawn.
“Your Majesty,” the Prime Minister repeats again, sounding decidedly annoyed now. “It is time. Give your assent so we can disband for the day.”
“But I do not assent,” I say simply.
He’s the only one close enough to hear me. He goes stiff, eyes widening with shock. The rest of the hall is still packing up behind him, headless of the standoff occurring on the platform.
“What did you say?” Mallory whispers, staring at me. He looks totally rattled.
Slowly, I rise to my feet. I square my shoulders, suddenly grateful for the sharp lines of my stiff, military-style jacket. It emboldens me as I call out the words once more in a voice that rings through every corner of the chamber.
“I do not assent.”
They all hear me this time. The hall seems to freeze, every minister going stock-still, then pivoting around to face the platform where I’m standing. In a flash, I see the room as if from a birds-eye lens — old men in black robes facing off with a young woman in white. An unexpected power struggle about to unfold.
For a long moment, there’s complete silence. If someone in the back row so much as sneezed, it would sound like the blast of a canon. The bafflement on their faces is so genuine, I almost want to laugh.
“Prime Minister,” Lord Klingerton finally stutters, shattering the quiet after what feels like an eternity. “Can she truly withhold assent?”
Mallory is oddly silent from my left.
“Surely she cannot!” Another minister forces a strained laugh. “She has neither right nor proper cause to invoke veto powers in this instance!”
“Her approval is a mere formality,” a third minister adds angrily. “Her presence here is nothing but an archaic remnant from the days of monarchy.”
My chin jerks upward with annoyance. “If royal assent was a formality, I would not be required by law to give it. In this instance, I donotgive it. And I will never give it again until you correct the discriminatory practices I have witnessed firsthand here today.”
A gasp reverberates out — utter disbelief colliding with male privilege, setting off a cataclysm of slow-dawning outrage. I watch as face after face morphs from baffled to enraged, bracing myself for what’s about to unfold.
“Queen Emilia,” Mallory interjects from my left. There’s a shred of placation in his tone — like he’s soothing an unruly child — that only serves to make me angrier. “I think you must be confused about your role here in the House of Lords.”
“Oh?” My brows lift. “Is it not myroleto speak on behalf of the crown? To cast my vote in favor of any bills worthy of royal approval?”
“No!” he hisses, that unflappable decorum finally shaking loose. “It is your role to support the bills we, your elected representatives, see fit to pass. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Even if you,my elected representatives, appear to be abusing your power in favor of your own political gain?” I ask sweetly, triggering another collective gasp. My head tilts. “Or have you so easily forgotten the words of the oath that binds your position?Non sibi sed patriae.Not forself, but country. A country I feel inclined to remind you, Prime Minister, is comprised of fifty-percent female constituents.”
Mallory’s teeth grind together. “My Queen, I do not require a refresher course on the guiding principles of a position I have held for longer than you have been alive.”
I lean in slightly, eyes never leaving his. “Then perhaps you have held that position for far too long. Perhaps all of you here in your hallowed House of Lords—” My gaze sweeps outward, across the hall, touching on every face I can. “—have held your positions for far too long. Perhaps it is time for new leadership; leadership more representative of the kingdom you are supposed to fairly and justly advocate for. Leadership that includes Germanians of every race… every religion… andevery gender.” I pause, taking a deep breath before I throw the final grenade. “Perhaps the crown should call for a formal referendum. To ask the people directly, by popular vote, how they feel about their Parliament as it currently stands.”
The swell of anger that’s been building for the past few minutes finally reaches its crest, crashing across the room in a great wave of indignation. The ministers start shouting all at once, hurling opinions from their benches, their faces going beet-red as their fingers wag up at me.
“Ridiculous!”