Page 141 of Hawthorne

“What about the animals?” I question, taking the paper away from his hand. “Did the National Institute for Environmental Health consider the wildlife of the island?”

“According to them, it’s only birds. Since it’s a tiny volcanic island, besides a few visiting seals, it was never inhabited. No rodents or mammals whatsoever.”

“Is the extraction clean? And the waste?”

“I have all of the documentation here, according to King Charles, it would be one of the cleanest and most revolutionary ways to do it.”

“Leave it there. I’ll read it all during the next few days. Is that alright?” It’s not like I have time to learn years’ worth of research in a day. Is it?

“Yes.” He nods eagerly. “Especially because we need to get Your Majesty ready for the coronation.”

“How could I forget,” I whine.

My body’s been jittery all day long, alongside the uncomfortable, sweaty hands and a rebellious, racy heart.

It all feels unreal like an out-of-body experience that has no end. The artificial lights have been eating at my eyes, giving me intense headaches. Not to mention the foreign hands that have been prodding everywhere: my hair, face, and body.

Measures have been taken, all kinds of medical tests have been made, and every day, a team of professionals has come for make-up and fitting trials. I feel like these people know me better than I know myself at this point.

After organising the paperwork, Joshua nods before bowing. With his disappearance behind the door, a group of four girls arrive—my ladies-in-waiting.

We’re in the twenty-first century. I thought these didn’t exist anymore.

“Your Majesty,” they greet, curtsying. I nod and go to stand on the round structure.

They start organising all the clothes, jewellery, and tools they will need to get me ready. I’m like a damn plastic doll being manoeuvred by an enthusiastic child.Ridiculous.

“Almost ready for tonight, Your Majes–”

“Please,” I cut off one of the girls helping me dress. “When it’s just us…” I point to the three girls fussing around me. “Call me Camilla.”

All three sets of eyes widen, and they all look between themselves before hesitantly nodding. It must be hard, going from one ruler and the same kind of routine to another in the blink of an eye. Everyone’s being extremely nice and respectful, which makes the experience slightly easier, but still. Are they this way because they truly respect me or out of uncertainty?

Are they only afraid of losing their jobs?

“So,” I start, trying to make small talk. “How are you girls enjoying work since...Well...I stepped up?”

King Charles was right.It is lonely.

Other than Edgar, everyone thinks at least four times before they speak. It’s all so impersonal…Nothing has spontaneity anymore, but I guess I knew. I knew this had a price—a high one.

Then there’s Rachel. She was hysterical when she found out, flooding my phone. I’ve got her up to date, but Joshua still hasn’t allowed me to visit her due to safety reasons. Thankfully, she’s been invited to the coronation celebration party. I’ll see her soon.

“It’s been amazing, Your–”

“Camilla,” I insist. “Please, if there is any trouble, don’t hesitate to come to me and ask me to fix it.”

They all nod eagerly and hastily go back to work in silence. With a long and defeated sigh, I give up trying to make conversation.

Half the day has gone by in all these preparations. I have barely left my bedroom, but I’ve seen from the number of stressed voices and rustling on the outside to know that the entire palace has chaos mode on.

My waist is tightened with a corset, my hair is pulled tightly into a low bun, and my fingernails are trimmed and painted in a transparent polish. Hours pass as the make-up is done, and finally—finally—I am allowed to get dressed.

A beautiful pearly white dress is hanging in front of me until Jane brings it to me with Dina’s help. They lower it down so I can step inside, and once I do, they raise it back up, getting it in place and easily zipping it up.

I turn around to face the mirror. I have never been this dolled up in my entire life, not even during the proclamation. As I look at myself, I can barely recognise the person on the other side of the glass—poker face, perfect posture, and confidence.

Everything I am not feeling on the inside, but I am faking it very well.Fake it until you make it.The gown is outstanding,though.It has these thin golden threads embroidered into the fabric, just below the sweetheart cleavage, descending through my waist and hips. There are a few more on the long, puffy skirt but this one is not as wide as Cinderella’s gown in her fantasy story. The embroideries are floral motifs and are just beautiful. It doesn’t have long sleeves but straps instead. Those are thick, falling over the sides onto my arms.

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