AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s not your fault,” I say. “Whoever sent this in—”
“Of course it’s my bloody fault,” she bursts, her temper flaring again. “I should’ve known someone would be watching. I should’ve never trusted any of them, I should’ve never taken the bloody risk—”
“You’re allowed to kiss your girlfriend at a party,” I say firmly.
“You might be, but I’m the future queen,” she snaps. “If I’m outed, all hell will break loose. There are already whole social media accounts dedicated to Gia and me, watching our every move, reading far more into things than they should—”
“Are they, though?” I say, and she gives me a look that could set the ocean on fire. “Listen, I’m not trying to push you into something you’re not ready for, but explain it to me—what’s the worst that could happen if you and Gia go public?”
Maisie laughs suddenly, humorless and borderline hysterical. “That’s easy. Benedict gets the crown.”
“Well—yeah, obviously, if you two don’t have kids. But—”
“You’ve no idea how the succession works, do you?” she says, and there are tears in her eyes now. “It’s what you and your American sensibilities might refer to as archaic. I’ll be the head of the Church of England as Queen, and while a portion of the world may have moved on from certain narrow-minded prejudices, I assure you that the archbishops have not.”
“So this is a religious thing, not a royal thing?” I say slowly, and she scoffs.
“They’re one and the same. Succession law very clearly dictates that my heirs—who I’d have to give birth to—would only be allowed to inherit the throne if I’m married to their biological father. Adoptees aren’t eligible, and forget any sort of donation.” She laughs again, raking her nails through her hair and grabbing fistfuls of it. “And the line of succession is set now, isn’t it? Mummy and Daddy obviously aren’t going to have any more children, and Nicholas is second in line after me. As soon as we all die, Benedict’s going to win. No matter what I do, he’s going to get exactly what he wants.”
“Dunno,” I say. “From what you’ve said, you might destroy the whole monarchy before he ever gets the chance to sit on the throne.”
She buries her face in her hands, and her shoulders start to shake, but I don’t know if she’s laughing or crying. I set my hand on her back anyway, rubbing circles against her sweater, and my eyes fall on the hot-pink roses once more.
Oh.
“Does Thaddeus know about Gia?” I say delicately, and she sniffs.
“No.”
“Are you going to tell him about Gia?”
“I don’t know,” she whimpers, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders in an awkward hug. She doesn’t push me away, though, so that’s progress.
“Is that what you’re fighting about?” I say, but by now, I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
Maisie nods, wiping her wet eyes and smudging her mascara. Clearly she didn’t think to wear the waterproof kind today. “I don’t know what else to do. A few dates with Thaddeus would get the rumors off our backs, but Gia’s furious.”
“Thaddeus probably will be, too, if he finds out you’re using him,” I say. “Usually both halves of a fauxmance know they’re in one.”
“A what?” She turns her head to look at me properly, and I gently wipe the black smudges from her face with my thumbs.
“A fauxmance. A fake romance,” I explain. “They’re common in Hollywood, I think. There’s always some rumor going around that two actors are together to publicize their new movie, or that they have a relationship contract—”
“A what?” she says again, and this time I see the spark of something I don’t like in her eyes.
“I’m not here to give you ideas, Mais, and I don’t know what to say to make any of this better. Just that…we’ll figure it out, all right? I promise. And who knows—maybe Ben will do us all a favor and die young.”
She focuses on the cream rug, and I notice her nails are short and ragged. I’ve never seen her with anything less than a perfect manicure before, and this more than anything tells me exactly how upset she really is.
“There are several monarchs whom historians suspect also…favored the same sex,” she says softly. “They all married, though, and most of them had children. Queen Anne was pregnant at least seventeen times. Seventeen.” She looks at me again, her blue eyes almost pleading. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”
In that moment, my heart breaks for her. She has all the privilege and wealth and status anyone could ever ask for, but what’s the point if it’s really just a gilded cage?
“I can’t tell you what to do,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “But I will say that while those kings and queens didn’t have much of a choice, you do. We don’t live in the eighteenth century anymore, and the people love you—even the ones who are…less than open-minded. You have a right to be yourself. You have a right to be happy and to be with the person you love and to not give up such a huge part of who you are just so you don’t make strangers uncomfortable. I mean—look where prioritizing the crown got our parents. They’re all miserable. Or they were, at least, for longer than we’ve been alive.”
Maisie shakes her head and, in what’s possibly the most shocking thing I’ve ever seen her do, she wipes her nose on the sleeve of her cashmere sweater. “I really don’t want to end up like them.”
“Me neither,” I admit. “Especially your mom. No offense.”
