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“People adore them,” Queen Margaux insisted. “It’s good for morale. Do you have anyone you’re holding a candle for, Rick? Might you follow close behind?”
“No,” I replied.
She gave me a sad look. I hated pity. It was better than ire, but it was still judgement.
“There was someone. It didn’t work out,” I said. “My father has probably described me as hopeless, but I am not.”
I loved to lie to myself. If I said it enough, I’d be right. Rick the Prick was the public persona that both haunted me and felt most comfortable in defensive moments. Yes, I was a prick, but I was free to be me. I wasn’t beholden to anyone else.
“Sorry to hear that,” the Queen said. “Well, maybe there is someone out there. Did you meet anyone or see anyone I could make a nice introduction to?”
“She thinks of herself as a matchmaker.” Al rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, not everyone wants to be set up. What is it with every queen being a matchmaker?”
“I love seeing a happily-ever-after, so shoot me! I am onlyaskinghim.”
“No,” I answered, “but thank you. The only person I spoke to of a similar station—the only one my parents would consider remotely interesting—was Queen Alexandra. And she chided me for my poor French. Made fun of me, honestly.”
“Oh, I couldn’t see Queen Alexandra taking the piss,” Queen Margaux chuckled. “That darling thing would never hurt a fly. What was it?”
“She insinuated my French was poor while trying to translate for me.”
“Your Frenchispoor. She’s an angel. I wouldn’t read anything into it,” Queen Margaux said.
“I try not to,” I said. “Neandia is bad enough. A nursing home for billionaires. It’s not as though she is so worldly.”
I realised I’d spoken poorly of a Belgian ally. I cringed.
“It may be conservative and a tax haven,” the Queen allowed. “However, she’s dealing with a regency and trying to find her footing. Don’t attribute to malice what might be awkwardness. Becoming queen in your teens isn’t simple. I became queen in my mid-twenties, and it was bad enough.”
I nodded. “Apologies. I spoke out of turn. I will grant her some grace. That’s all I meant by that.”
The Queen nodded. “So, really,no onepiqued your interest?”
“Apologies, ma’am, but no.”
“Well, damn. Your mother had high hopes I could at least make an introduction,” Queen Margaux sighed.
Ah, yes. Every queen in Europe was conspiring to wed me and get me settled. It was as if my parents were sure a prospective spouse would end all my nasty habits and mend me. I hated to tell them that was tomfoolery. I wasn’t to be mended. This was who I was. No woman deserved to get roped up with me. I wanted love and happiness, but the girls capturing my attention were unavailable, unsuitable, or saw me as a fling. The girls who wanted to settle down bored me to tears.
Five
Alexandra
Ireturned to Neandia wanting to shed everything. I was back to my prison—locked down and depressed. Yet, I had hope. I wanted my freedom now more than ever. I had tasted it, now I wanted to bathe in it. Was this what a power trip was like? Or was it me advocating for myself?
Every Monday, I was forced to attend a tea with Celeste. It was mostly her complaining about how I was getting fat and telling me I couldn’t do things.
“You know you put on weight in the time you were there.”`
Even recovering from pneumonia, she was relentless. I hate to admit it, but I often wanted her to just die already. She was in her eighties but fit as a fiddle. It was a pipe dream. My younger sister, Astrid, was more vengeful. She read about poisons and contemplated killing our grandmother years ago. Of course, she wasn’t serious, but it seemed a good creative outlet for the darkest among us.
I said, “I cannot have gained weight.”
“They weighed you this morning?”
I nodded. I was weighed on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I feared the Monday weigh-ins most. If I even put on a bit of water weight, she would come after me as if I had let myself go over the weekend. I was grateful I hadn’t gained a pound. I attributed that to the panic attack and lack of appetite I’d had upon returning home yesterday and realising the dream was nothing more than that.
“Hmmm…”
