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“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” I joke.
“Haha. Seriously.”
“Keeping a low profile until all this wedding bullshit blows over.”
She scoffs. “I won’t tell anyone! Just tell me where you are because I need to talk to you about something, and I don’t want to do this over the phone.”
My sister is…a lot. “Is it life and death?”
“Well…no.”
“Then it can wait.”
Flora is undeterred. “Things are falling apart here, and Mother is starting to pay attention to me in ways I do not like.”
“How?” I sit up straight because she’s pinged my protective big brother streak.
“Let me break it down for you. She’s already spiraling because of Torben. And she’s fretting over Etienne because now that things are getting real, she’s realizing perhaps her second son could take the throne with a raging drinking problem. You, dear brother, are the next in line successor. However, the pressure is on me now because nobody can find you!”
A surge of guilt takes hold of me. “Do you…Do you want to be queen?”
“Sig, I’ve never given it a single thought, you know that.”
“Kind of hard to fly under the radar with you being the most photogenic of the entire family,” I remind her.
“Aw, thanks for noticing, brother. But that’s not helpful.”
Shit. “Do you…need me to come back?”
Even as I say this, I wince. I do not want to come back, not under any circumstances.
She lets out a labored sigh. “Let’s see how things go with Etienne. He may rise to the occasion; we never know about him.”
I give her silence because anything I say about my brother will start a row. Flora has a tender heart and is the only one who fully believes in the second prince.
Even though I say nothing, she picks up on my energy.
“Don’t start,” she warns, reading me through my silence. “I know you two don’t get along, but maybe it would help if you would come to the wedding.”
“Flora.”
“You fucking officiated Torben’s wedding.”
She doesn’t get it because she loves all of us equally. I do love my second-oldest brother, but he’s an idiot. Her unconditional acceptance makes it hard to talk shit. “Torben married someone he loves. He sacrificed his birthright for her. Etienne’s wedding is a sham.”
“Birthright? Is this the Middle Ages? You know as well as I do this is all pomp and theater. Royalty in Gravenland is barely a shadow of what it used to be, pre-William the Conqueror.”
“I don’t need a history lesson,” I growl.
“Fine,” Flora says. “Anyway, you never know. Marriages have been low-key arranged for eons in this twisted little country. Maybe they’ll grow to love each other.”
“We’d better hang up the phone before the palace figures out where I am,” I say.
“How would they figure that out?”
“Depending on how bad things get, security could find the tower my phone is pinging to.”
There’s a pause; Flora says a hasty goodbye, and she’s gone.
