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“Don’t be silly. Who’s going to rule if not you?”
I look at Uther, who appears to wish the ground would open up and swallow him rather than continue to listen to this conversation.
I stare at my sister as if she should know better. “You,” I say. “You were born for this.”
Her gut reaction is to shake her head. “No. I’m certifiable. Just ask Daddy.”
“All of us are, in Father’s eyes.”
“Yes, but I’m a girl.”
“So?”
“It’s not me saying that; I’m paraphrasing our father. According to him, I’m obsessed with clothes, flowers, and unimportant things.”
“Father doesn’t have interests of any depth, trust me. Being loud doesn’t make a man more important. Everyone loves you, Flora.”
“They do, don’t they?” she replies, tilting her head. “Still. That doesn’t mean I’m meant to be the queen. I don’t really want to be queen, anyway! I don’t want things to change! I love my life. And, I’m very busy with … other things.”
And I don’t know if I want to know those other things.
Yet it seems my sister and I are more alike than I thought.
27
Stasi
Nothing prepared me to run straight into the queen this quickly after getting ass-fucked in a string bikini.
But there she is, Queen Hilda, in all her glory, in my kitchen.
Well,herkitchen, I suppose. Technically, as I’ve learned, the palace owns this cabin.
“Hello.”
That icy politeness has me curtseying instantly and staring at the floor. “Your Majesty. Wh-what an unexpected surprise.”
“Sit down.”
Do I tell her I need to get clean and dry, or do I just do as she says? Right. Better simply follow her orders. I see where her son gets his bossiness from.
I sit across from her on the kitchen chair with a wet squish, still averting my eyes.
Her son just had his tongue in my butt…why me, why me, why me?
“My dear. May I ask why you’re dripping water all over my floor?”
I swallow hard. “Well, we were just…out for a boat ride, and the blanket…got splashed…I fell in the water…it was a whole thing…”
“Look at me, child.”
Oh gods, she knows I’m lying. Those icy eyes see everything. I’m blushing so hard.
She doesn’t let go of my gaze but arches a brow. “Clean yourself up, then we’ll have an audience.”
Finally, a scrap of mercy.
I waddle to the bathroom to rinse off and change into the most modest and formal clothes I possess: the one cropped hoodie that still fits me, and leggings.
