Page 11 of Learning to Rule

“Bastard.” I pick up a pillow and throw it at him. It hits him square in the face, and when I look over to Mr. Hinchbottom, I can see him laughing.

“You’ll pay for that later.” Dalton gently throws the pillow back at me. “But for now, we do have to get ready. It’s up to you, but it might be better if you get dressed in your own rooms. There will be several men in here helping me get ready. I have to wear this special robe, which isn’t the easiest thing to put on alone.”

I turn to Mr. Hinchbottom and spin my index finger around in a circle to ask him to turn around. He instantly does, and I slide from the bed and go to Dalton. I press my body against his, feeling every sinew of his hard muscles against me.

“I agree. I think I’ll get ready next door. I’m sure the army of women who’ve just appeared with makeup and hair straighteners are waiting for me and not you, so it’s probably best to give you space.”

I seductively make my way over to the door that connects Dalton’s bedroom to the apartments that have been designated as mine. When I open the door, I see they’ve already been cleaned and prepared for me. I turn back to Dalton.

“Until later,” I say with a wink.

I can’t help but laugh at the pained expression on his face. I wonder if it’s acceptable to have a hard-on during royal events because I’m pretty sure I’ve just given him one for the entire day.

* * *

The next couple of hours fly past in a flurry of beautifying activity. I enjoy it—it’s nice to be pampered on occasion, although I wouldn’t want to do this every day. I get a bit nervous when I’m shown the dress I’m to wear. It’s a full-length white gown with an embroidered bodice studded with crystals. Well, I hope they’re crystals and not diamonds. Nothing would surprise me after seeing the opulence of the palace. I’m given an elaborate hat to wear on my head, and when I look in the mirror, I truly believe I could be a princess. I don’t have time to reflect, though, as Mr. Hinchbottom whisks me from the bedroom and into a waiting car.

With security on either side of us, we’re driven at top speed through the capital city. People line the streets waving flags as we pass. It’s a spectacular show, and part of me wishes there was more time to take in the great splendor, but as soon as the vehicle stops, I’m ushered into a grand building, which Mr. Hinchbottom informs me is where the Janastrian Parliament resides.

“This way, Miss Nash.” I walk past numerous people, and they curtsy to me like I’m someone important. I thought my outfit was over the top, but all the men are dressed in equally elaborate clothing. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’d stepped out of the modern world and into the early nineteen hundreds. They’re wearing tailcoat jackets in various colors of black, brown, and green, high waisted pants, cravats tied around their necks, and they’re carrying top hats. The women are dressed in long formal gowns of the style I’m wearing. Some still have their hats on, while others have taken them off and have small jewels or flowers dotted around their hair.

“Mr. Hinchbottom?” I question. “Should I remove my hat, or do I need to wear it?”

We grind to a halt in the middle of the corridor.

“Yes, my apologies, Miss Nash, you do need to remove it. You are unmarried, only married woman keep their hats on for today’s events.” I quickly remove my headwear, and he takes it from me before we make our way deeper into the Houses of Parliament.

My breathing quickens as I feel my nerves take over.

This world is completely alien to anything I’ve experienced before. I allow my yoga training to take over as Mr. Hinchbottom escorts me into a room with a huge balcony—it looks down onto an ornate, assembly room containing rows of plush-looking seats on either side of a central, carpeted aisle that leads to two golden thrones at one end.

“Is this the room the king will be giving his speech in today?” I ask, peering over the balcony to get a really good look.

“It will be. We’re to watch it from here. This is the prime minister’s private box,” Mr. Hinchbottom informs me.

“But today, Mrs. Prime Minster will be in it, instead.” The soft feminine chuckle draws my attention away from the view and to the friendly face of Hannah Woodrow standing at the door. I make my way over to her and greet her, probably a bit too informally, with a warm embrace.

“It’s good to see you again. How are you?” I ask, but she doesn’t have a chance to answer me as a fanfare rings out from the room below.

“Miss Nash, if you would stand here,” Mr. Hinchbottom instructs, and I do exactly as I’m told.

I watch as the events of the day unfold before me. Firstly, all the members of parliament file into place, and I recognize Clement Woodrow at the head. I want to wave at him when he looks up at us, but I’m guessing that would be totally against all protocol. Instead, I give him a warm smile.

When all the members of parliament are in place, the fanfare rings out again, and I see Dalton, dressed in a long fur and red velvet robe, leading his mother, who’s dressed similarly, into the room. They’re both wearing bejeweled crowns, and I can tell instantly the sparkling gems in them are not fake. Dalton guides his mother to the smaller of the two thrones, and she takes a seat. Dalton goes to the other side of the larger throne and stands bolt upright next to it.

The fanfares grow louder, and the king enters the room, everyone bowing to him. He doesn’t acknowledge anyone, just strides purposefully to his throne and takes his seat.

I continue to watch as people dressed in liveried outfits start to make various proclamations and announcements, but it’s in a language I find old fashioned, and I don’t really understand it. It all seems a bit pointless when the sole purpose of today’s proceedings is to open Parliament and set out what the Government plans to achieve this year.

Leaning over to Hannah, I whisper. “Why is this so elaborate? Do they do it like this every year?”

“They do. It’s tradition. This ceremony is more about the king showing off, than about the serious business of running the country.”

Hannah turns her head to look at Mr. Hinchbottom, and I see him give her a small nod before he moves away from us and closer to the door.

“What’s going on?” I ask immediately intrigued.

“I think I’m supposed to be the voice of reason among the grandeur of court life.” Hannah raises a skeptical eyebrow at me.

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