Page 5 of Royal Resistance

Selene

Isit opposite my father at the table, the extra-long table set for just the two of us. For the first time in weeks, months even, Lorraine hasn’t joined us for dinner.

Lorraine will become my stepmother when she marries my father, King Theodor of Avelaine, next week.

The wedding will happen the day after he abdicates his throne. He’s giving up his role as His Majesty King Theodor of Avelaine, Guardian of the Crown and Defender of the Constitution, to marry Lorraine Halken, a commoner. A retired schoolteacher, in fact. My father says he’s ready for a simple life, that he doesn’t want her to have to deal with the pressure of becoming queen.

I will be queen instead.

At least, that’s the plan.

Darren isn’t with us tonight either, but he should be. We should be planning our wedding.

We’ve been planning our wedding for six years now. Darren has always said we should wait with the wedding until after I have a firm date for when I’ll become queen. And then he wants us to be crowned together as a sign of our commitment to Avelaine.

And each other.

Darren, Baron von Lier of Belgium, and Princess Selene of Avelaine, engaged to be married.

The invitations will be delivered next week as well.

I should be excited. I should be happy that I’m finally getting what I’ve always wanted. To be queen of Avelaine. To be a just and fair ruler, leading my country with love and respect.

And I get to be queen while my father is alive, because he is abdicating. He’s giving up his throne to marry Lorraine, giving it up to me.

I’m also getting married soon. The fact that I’m not as excited about the upcoming wedding should probably worry me.

I’ve been with Darren since I was twenty-three. Do I love him?

I think so, but no one has ever asked me that.

Would I give up the throne for him, like my father is doing for Lorraine?

Absolutely not. Not in a million years.

That should tell me the answer to whether I love him.

I enjoy dinner with Papa, since we rarely have time to spend alone together. It’s been just the two of us since Mama passed, until Lorraine entered our lives. And Darren.

I expected a cozy father-daughter dinner, where he’d share his wisdom, answer any questions I might have, and give some final advice, because might be the last time the two of us dine alone. Instead, we talk about Nelson Mandela, Finland’s decision to join the European Union, and how Prince Magnus had returned to Laandia, and what that means for the line of succession. Both of us have always assumed the younger Prince Dante would be the next king after King Euan.

It isn’t until my plate is clean that Papa’s expression changes. “Selene, my love, there’s something I must tell you.”

“Is everything all right, Papa? Is Lorraine well?”

“Lorraine is quite well, everything is fine. It’s just… I’m not sure how to tell you this.” Papa, gentle, sweet Papa, who shies from conflict, takes a deep breath. “Selene, I have to tell you… You will not be queen.”

I frown at my father’s words. “How is that possible? Avelaine needs a queen, and I am the next in line.”

He pours the wine himself, a lovely cherry-red Barolo, because he asked the servants to give us privacy. I’m beginning to understand why.

But I don’t understand what my father is trying to say.

I really don’t, because I am the only child of the king of Avelaine. I became the heir to the throne the day I was born. Not only that, I’ve spent my entire life preparing to be queen.

The Kingdom of Avelaine lies along the western Baltic coast, between southern Sweden and northern Germany, separated from Denmark by a narrow channel. It’s a small monarchy, grown smaller in recent years due to the legislature demanding more and more concessions within the constitutional framework.

They see my father as one more in the line of weak rulers.