Page 137 of Hawthorne

“Whereas it has pleased almighty god to call to his mercy our late Sovereign Lord King Charles the Second to his Holy Realm, the chosen one to continue on his legacy has solely and rightfully come to The Princess Camilla of Severna."

Inhale.

Who?

Exhale.

“We, therefore, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal of this Realm and Members of the Council do now hereby proclaim that Princess Camilla of Severna has now become our only lawful and rightful Liege, Lady Camilla Marie of Severna, by the grace of god...” the silence is deafening, trapping us in unmoving bodies, as we watch the proclamation, “by whom kings and queens do reign to bless Her Majesty with long and happy life to rule over us. Given at Livian Palace this twenty-second day of April in the year of our lord two thousand and twenty-two.God save the queen!”

Inhale.

Another heir...A queen?

Exhale.

The weight of the world leaves my shoulders as I let out that second breath and let my arse fall on the seat once more.

Silence.

Then, a shriek.

It is followed by my brother’s hyperbolic laughter.

“What is this circus?”

My mind is blank. Void. Empty.

“Your reactions are priceless,” he finally comments. “I am so glad I didn’t miss this.”

I am not the heir.I, Vincent Hawthorne, am not the heir. I am...free.

“Hilarious!”

“We’ve been played.” My mother stands up, pacing around the office and ignoring Edgar’s words. “Robbed of what is ours. We need to get to the bottom of this. Who the hell is this fake heir? They must want to gain some time to turn this around. It’s the only option!”

And when I thought everything had been delivered to me on a golden platter before being rubbed in my face, the trumpets sound again.

“In this one-of-a-kind moment, by order of our late Sovereign Lord King Charles II and accepted by all legal departments, as stated in his last will. We, hereby, present to all our subjects, our new Sovereign, Lady Queen Camilla I.”

My heart speeds up as the scene happens before me in slow motion. The double doors behind the announcer open, giving way to a tall, fit, and graceful body. The camera closes in, from bottom to top. A white and golden gown, perfectly snug to soft curves, is complemented by matching silk gloves that end at the elbows.

The neckline is conservative, with an off-the-shoulder strap falling to the sides. Her collarbone has one single round mole over the bony area, and my body shudders upon recognition.

It can’t be.

But as the camera rises, finally revealing her face, my soul leaves my body. The dark hair, flawlessly tied up in the back, the make-up, minimal as always, enhancing all her beautiful features. Two tiny diamond studs decorate her delicate ears, and shiny gloss covers her full lips.

Stunning. Perfect. It’s Camilla.

My Camilla.The woman of my dreams, the woman my mother despises and worked so hard to get away from me for being beneath me and unworthy. Of my status.

Camilla is the Queen of Monera.

42

Vincent Hawthorne

“Are you finally going to tell me how the hell she ended up being the heiress?The fucking queen?” I growl the words at my brother, unable to hide my dissatisfaction.

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