CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

“Dad literally told you not to say anything. How can we expect you to keep state secrets if you run off and tell me something you swore not to, like, ten minutes later?” Lillian asked.

“It’s been two days, not ten minutes. You’re exaggerating,” Elin replied.

Her sister was twenty-seven years old and looked more like their mother than Elin, who took after her father in her facial features. Where Elin and Christian had their father’s fair complexion, light-blonde hair and blue eyes, Lillian had the same blue eyes but the more pointed nose of their mother and her darker-blonde hair. Lillian was also a little more free-spirited, which didn’t seem to come from either parent but more from their aunt, their mother’s sister, who never quite seemed to get enough of travel, wine, and men.

“So, you’re really okay with this?” Lillian asked more seriously now as they sat in the living room of her suite of rooms.

Lillian had also yet to move into her own residence. She’d planned to remodel one of the royal manors but had a difficult time picking out the paint or wallpaper, and tile or hardwood. Then, there were the furnishings… and her sister had never been able to make a serious decision. Even university had been a difficulty for her. She’d gotten into three of them and ended up attending all three over the course of five years, finally graduating from the last one. So, as she continued to waffle between this sofa or that sofa, she remained at the palace.

“I’m not really happy with Christian, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, yeah; I can understand that. I guess we should have known, though, right?” Lillian asked.

“I always thought he’d come around. He knows how important this is to Dad.”

“But Christian is his own person. And besides, being King doesn’t mean what it used to mean. Sure, you’re still head of state, but you don’t have any real control over anything. You’re a figurehead. What’s the point of that?”

“Hi, future figurehead here,” Elin replied, raising her hand a little.

“Right. Sorry,” Lillian said with a shrug. “You know, you’re your own person, too, Elin. If you don’t want this, you should say something now.”

“That would mean you’re next. Do you want to be a figurehead?”

“Not really. But it is what it is, isn’t it? I always figured I was way too far down the line to have to worry about this. Christian would take over after Dad died. He’d have kids, and they’d be next after him. Then, there was still you, if he didn’t have kids or if something bad happened. I still remember being about sixteen or seventeen when that bombing happened in St. Rais – it took out almost the entire royal family. I guess, for a while, I wondered what would happen if Dad and Mom were gone, along with you and Christian. It was pretty horrible.”

“Yeah, I remember feeling the same way. Now that I’m actually friends with Elizabeth and Palmer, it makes it even weirder. Elizabeth would have still been a Princess, technically. She also never would have met Palmer had that been the case, and look at them now. They have two kids together. It’s crazy how things happen sometimes.”

“So, you’re really going to do this? You’re going to be Queen?”

“Christian isn’t leaving me much of a choice. Dad retires due to illness, the first in line says he doesn’t want it, and then the second in line says the same thing? The country will lose complete faith in us. I can’t see the monarchy surviving much beyond that, and I don’t want to be the reason a centuries-old institution disappears.”

“You’re going to be good at this, Elin.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, wondering why her siblings seemed to have so much faith in her.

“Christian is the daring one. I’m the one that’s all over the place. Mari is the one that really wants nothing to do with any of this and would prefer to live in some cottage somewhere, reading books and maybe even writing them. I don’t know about that girl sometimes.” Lillian paused as she smiled softly at Elin. “Then, there’s you. You’ve always been so level-headed. You studied history and political science. You have a law degree, Elin. It’s like you knew, somehow, that you’d end up with this job. You mastered the Princess wave by the time you were ten years old. The cameras love you and follow you wherever you are. The people love you. I think you’re going to make a great Queen, and I’m here for you, okay? If you need me, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” Elin replied.

“Just don’t kick me out of the palace, please. I still haven’t picked out the curtains for my new bedroom.”

Elin chuckled at her sister and decided that before the news broke about the family decisions that would impact a nation, she should maybe visit those friends in St. Rais and ask for some advice.

◆◆◆

“Sorry,” Elin said, cupping her hand over her mouth instantly in embarrassment.

“Ma’am,” Ingrid spoke.

Elin had been working on a speech. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt it important that she at least attempt to write her own speeches as monarch. She knew she’d have people read and review them and, likely, change them, but she wanted to be more hands-on than previous sovereigns had been. She’d been trying to craft the perfect speech for a gala she’d be hosting at the palace soon for the Parkinson’s Foundation, which obviously hit close to home. The gala’s timing would coincide with at least one of the many announcements the family would be making over the next several weeks, so it was more important than ever that her speech be good. In an effort to write it, though, she’d crumpled up the most recent draft, which she’d hated, and tossed it in the direction of the open doorway, hoping it would land somewhere near the trash can next to the aforementioned doorway. Unfortunately for her, Ingrid, her private secretary, had walked into the room and had gotten smacked in the face with that paper.

“Ingrid, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“Ma’am, it’s fine. I take it, the speech writing isn’t going well?” she asked.

Ingrid Olson had been her private secretary for the past three years. She’d come from the palace staff when Elin’s previous secretary had decided to move to Finland with her Finnish husband, and she was essentially in charge of Elin’s life. If people knew how much the secretaries actually ran the affairs of the royal family, they might suggest they be the royals instead.

“It’s my first attempt.”

“Really? There are at least seven pieces of paper here.” Ingrid pointed to the floor.

“I played basketball for a while when I couldn’t figure out what to write.”

“Did you win?” Ingrid asked as she sat across from Elin’s desk in her usual chair.

“No. I am afraid, I scored zero points.”

Ingrid laughed and said, “Well, I was hoping you could take a break from speech-writing to talk about the seating arrangements for the gala. I know you said you wanted to review them.”

“Can that wait? I feel like I need to focus on this speech. It’s really important.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Ingrid stood just as quickly as she’d sat down. “I can come back later.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” she suggested.

“Your speech will be fine, Ma’am. They always are. You have a way with words.”

“I… I do?” she stuttered.

“Well, that wasn’t the best of examples,” Ingrid teased her.

“Right,” she replied, blushing again. “I just meant… I mean… I didn’t know you thought that.”

“Ma’am, I read every speech you write before you deliver it. If I thought it was a bad speech, I’d tell you. That’s part of my job,” Ingrid replied.

“Of course,” Elin said, nodding.

“Might I ask why this one is so important to you? I know it’s for the foundation, but you’ve delivered the speech for the past three years, and I don’t recall seeing you this concerned about it.”

“I just want to get it right,” she lied.

“Very well,” Ingrid said, likely knowing she wasn’t telling the truth. “Is there anything else, Ma’am?”

“No, thank you.”

Ingrid turned to go before quickly turning around and saying, “My apologies; I completely forgot: the King would like you to join him and your mother for dinner tonight.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, Ma’am,” Ingrid replied. “Six o’clock.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Well, this was it. Her father was about to tell her she wouldn’t be Queen after all. She could just see him refusing to retire now that Christian wasn’t going to take over. He’d tell her that he’d work with her for the next several years until she was ready to be Queen instead. With Christian giving up his spot in succession, that meant his children wouldn’t be included, either, unless she could convince their father to put them back in line for the throne. She might have to because with Lillian not settling down anytime soon, her not wanting children of her own, and Mari not wanting public life for herself or the kids she might have one day, Christian’s children would be their only viable option to take over; at least, as far as the country was concerned. She knew people would need to see stability, continuity, and that the line was secured. She wanted that, too.

“Elin, have a seat,” her father said when she entered the formal dining room.

The dark-wood table was meant for sixteen people and could easily be expanded to seat twenty-four. Most nights, when her parents weren’t traveling, the six of them had eaten at this table. Elin remembered feeling so small in her chair. And now, she was sitting to the right of her father, Christian’s usual seat, and her mother was at the opposite end of the table, so far away. She still felt small.

“We’ve spoken with Christian again.”

Oh. Had they managed to convince him to leave the Air Force?

“He’s set on his decision, and I can’t force him to be King,” her father continued.

Elin watched as his left hand trembled. He placed his right hand over it, either to cover it up or to try to stop the shaking.

“Your mother will not let me reconsider my own decision, and I love and respect my Queen too much to not listen to her.” He smiled across the table at his wife. “We’re going to tell your sisters before everyone else, and then we’ll inform certain members of government and the palace staff, obviously. After that, we will announce your brother’s plans for the military. Following that, after some time has passed, we’ll announce my retirement and your ascension to the throne. You’ll have your consecration a few months after that.”

This was it. This was happening. He was still retiring. Christian was still staying in the Air Force. She was going to be Queen. The consecration of the King was a thousand-year-old tradition in Norway. The ceremony was a solemn blessing of the King in the performance of his royal duties. In more recent years, the Queen Consort had been consecrated as well. Elin would be a Queen by birth and blood, so she’d receive the consecration. When King Olav V inherited the throne in nineteen-fifty-eight, the coronation ceremony was replaced with the consecration ceremony officially, and it had been that way ever since.

“Lillian will become second in line,” her father continued. “Mari will be third. When you have children, they’ll become second, and so on. Well, you know how this works.” He took a drink of his wine.

Elin then realized that she hadn’t even noticed that she had a full plate of food, wine, and water glasses in front of her.

“What about Christian’s children?” she asked.

“You’ll have to take that up with him. I tried to discuss that with him earlier, and he didn’t want to hear it from me yet. You, as far as I know, haven’t dated anyone. Of course, a father is the last to know.” He smiled at her. “Christian has had girlfriends, but nothing longer than a year or so that I recall. Lillian is content to just… well, she’s Lillian. And my little Mari is still young.”

“Not that young, dear. She’s nearly twenty-five,” her mother said.

“Don’t remind me,” he replied. “You’re all so grown up now,” he added to Elin. “And she’s no closer than you to marrying and settling down. When the time comes, talk to your brother. Technically, his children will not be included unless you make it so once you’re the monarch.”

“I know,” she offered in response. “What did the Prime Minister say when you told him?”

Her father seemed surprised by the question. Elin picked up her wineglass and took a drink as if he shouldn’t be, trying to play the part now that it was definitely about to be hers.

“He’s amenable to the idea.”

“He doesn’t have much of a choice, does he?” Elin added.

Her father chuckled and said, “I suppose not.”