“In my experience, it’s not about whether you stumble, My Queen. It’s about how you carry on afterward.”
I’m silent for a while, listening to the crackle of the fireplace. Perhaps it’s because Simms has been with me since the very first day I was pulled into this life… Perhaps it’s because I’m in desperate need of council from a father figure in the wake of losing Linus… Perhaps it’s because my heart has been so thoroughly battered, these past few days, it’s barely beating properly. Whatever the case, I’m feeling strangely vulnerable when I next speak.
“If my father could see me now, he would regret ever thinking I was equipped to be his heir. I’m sure he’d say I’ve made quite a mess of things.”
For a moment, Simms digests my words in silence before clearing his throat. “With all due respect, My Queen, I think you’re wrong about that. After the Vasgaard Square attack… Your composure at the funerals, your grace while speaking to the victims’ families… It was remarkable. King Linus, rest his soul, was never forced to handle such matters during his brief reign. And, if he had, I doubt he would’ve managed them any better. You have shown an inner strength your father never possessed. Why else do you think the entire country is so fixated on your every move? Why do you think the world is watching you so very closely on social media, in the press, in person?”
“Because they’re waiting to see how badly I’ll screw things up…?”
Simms shakes his head. “They’re waiting to see you surpass all expectations. To rise above all the norms that have been laid out for you and instead become something… unexpectedlygreater. As you’ve done since the moment this mantle was shoved upon your shoulders, one rainy night last October.”
I suck in a gulp of air. “But…”
“Queen Emilia. If I may be so bold… In my twenty-five years working as an advisor to the throne, I have never seen what I saw this afternoon when I passed onto the castle grounds: people gathered at the gates, arm in arm, singing the Germanian national anthem.Never. Not once.”
My cheeks heat. “But—”
“Butnothing. They have pledged to you their fealty, Your Majesty. Proudly and publicly. So perhaps it is time you stopped second-guessing your own performance, and started trusting yourself as much as your subjects do.”
My eyes are really pricking, now. I push to my feet and cross toward the door, unable to look back at him. If I do, I’m certain I’ll start to weep in earnest.
Hand on the knob, I clear my throat. “Thank you for agreeing to come back.”
“It is my pleasure. Truly.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Simms.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty.”
I’m halfway over the threshold when something else occurs to me. Pausing, I call back over my shoulder. “Oh, and Simms?”
“Yes, My Queen?”
“Get Lady Morrell back here, will you? I wouldn’t mind the occasional input on etiquette. But tell her I’m not going on any more dates. The purple hair streak is nonnegotiable. And the elbow length gloves? They’re staying off. For good.”
His subdued chuckle chases me out the door.
Chapter Thirteen
The next fewweeks pass in a blur of strategy meetings and political maneuvering. As the days roll steadily onward toward April, winter’s deathly hold begins to weaken. All around me, the world seems to yawn, stretching stiff limbs and shaking off icy shackles. Snowbanks shrink in slow degrees, then disappear entirely, seemingly overnight. The air is tinged with the promise of new life, pale green crocus shoots awakening in their flower beds after a long slumber.
Spring has finally sprung.
By the final week of March, mere days before the referendum, I have traded my heavy cloaks for light pea coats, swapped my fur-lined boots for stylish pumps — all under the careful supervision of Lady Morrell, who has reclaimed her position as my style and etiquette advisor.
Despite a few despairing remarks about the purple streak in my hair, she’s been remarkablylaissez-faireabout my dress code since her return to the palace. I think she’s so happy to be back in her role, she’d let me try out a mohawk if I asked.
(Luckily for her, I don’t have the bone structure to pull off the punk-rocker look.)
It’s almost warm enough to resume my daily horseback rides with Ginger around the grounds — something I’ve missed dearly. Hans, the Master of Stables, assures me she’s been in good hands with his grooms all winter, getting regular exercise in the large stable pens… but I have a feeling I’ll need a hefty supply of sugar cubes to earn back her affection after so long apart. Not that I have much free time to ride, these days.
My obligations outside the palace have increased tenfold since the vote was announced. I’m out the gates before sunrise and back well after dusk most nights — which suits me just fine, if I’m being honest. I welcome the distraction this referendum has delivered. After all, it’s vastly preferable to sitting around the castle, dwelling on my broken heart. Seeing blue eyes around every corridor corner. Surrounded by ghosts that stain my every memory.
As the originator of this reform movement, I feel a certain obligation to be everywhere at once, the face of the campaign, greeting every potential voter in bustling cities and small towns alike. Over the past month, I have traveled from border to border, snaking my way along the Nelle River, stopping in places I’d never even heard of, let alone visited before. I have shaken more hands and held more babies than I ever thought possible; shared more laughs and greeted more of my countrymen than I ever could’ve imagined.
It’s been overwhelming. Utterly exhausting. I am tired down to the marrow of my bones. I could sleep a year and still not catch up on all the rest I’ve missed. And yet… it is also undeniably wonderful to see so many hidden corners of my kingdom up close and personal, rather than hiding out behind the stone walls of my castle, reigning from a throne completely out of view of the people I am supposed to stand for.
Each time my limo slows to a stop in a new town square, each time I look out to a sea of strangers — waving signs, screaming my name, showing off their freshly-dyed purple hair — I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.