Page 21 of The Heart of the King

It was something she’d done off and on over the last couple of days. She needed to learn more about her new country.

Was her citizenship an issue? Did she need to give up her U.S. citizenship? Would her children hold dual citizenship if she stayed and had children with David?

The commercial break ended as she pulled a pair of black slacks out of the wardrobe. She’d never used an actual wardrobe before and was sorely disappointed that a magical portal to Narnia didn’t open in the back.

“It’s official. Out with the old, and in with the new. One king is convicted, and in the process, removed from the throne. In the same moment, a crown prince becomes a king.”

Jazz glanced over to see one of the photos had already been released. She sat next to David, somber looks on both of their faces as they watched the television.

“And a woman none of us know anything about became queen,” the other anchor added. “Queen Jasmine is an unknown entity. The only thing known about her is that she has dark hair and is shorter than the new king. We don’t know if she’s a native Auverignonian or if she’s American or if she’s from somewhere else. We don’t know when the new king met her.”

It went back to the first anchor.“We do, just this minute, have confirmation of the new king’s regnal name. For those who haven’t heard our discussions over the last several months, a regnal name is the name a monarch chooses to use. When asked, Queen Elizabeth famously replied that she would, of course, use her own name. The new Auverignonian king used Steven until a short time ago when he started going by Charles. There was speculation that he wanted to be the first modern King Charles, beating Prince Charles of the United Kingdom, though there’s no definitive word on what regnal name the United Kingdom’s Prince Charles is planning to use.”

Now the second man.“The press release from the Dalvos House is formulaic but includes the signature of King David I.”

That made it official.

“The new king and queen are expected to leave Dalvos House for the palace in the next hour.”

Shoot. Jazz thought she had more time than that. She groaned. Her hair would have to go up in another bun. She didn’t particularly care for them, but she also hadn’t had a chance to wash her hair in too many days, and her curls would be a wild mess. She’d showered, but unfortunately, most of her hair supplies were in one of the bags she hadn’t seen since they left Trumanville.

Tucking her blouse into the slacks, she headed into the bathroom to finish her makeup and fix the messy bun into an actual neat one.

Sliding her feet into the one pair of heels she had access to, she glanced around the room. Stewart told her someone else would pack her things and take them to the palace. The rest of her things, the ones she hadn’t see yet, would have been taken into the palace as soon as the verdict was read. She’d been told that the teams would start transitioning offices and apartments the minute the word “guilty” sank in, but that it was a possibility that they would be staying in guest quarters for a few days.

Like she knew the difference.

She clicked the television off and headed for the office where she’d watched the court proceedings with David. Was she supposed to curtsy when she saw him? Should she ask him or Stewart? It seemed like an unnecessary thing to bother a new king with.

Maybe she’d just do it. David would tell her if she didn’t need to.

Stewart typed furiously as she walked into the outer office. He looked up and frowned. “Your Majesty? Is there something I can help you with?”

Jazz wrinkled her nose. “First, you don’t need to call me ‘your majesty’ all the time. Second, I thought we were supposed to be leaving soon, so I thought I’d make it easier to be found.”

“The king is in a meeting, but yes, you should be leaving shortly.”

She sat down in one of the chairs, slouched more than she probably should, and pulled out her phone.

Another text had come in from her mother. Jazz replied, telling her again that she was fine, but they needed to talk, asking if they’d be home later in the evening. Finally, she confirmed a video call with them at seven that night, Trumanville time. That was one in the morning in Auverignon, but she’d have to find a way.

It was time to tell them their daughter was a queen.

The driveto the palace had gone better than David expected. The crowds were overwhelmingly positive - or at least neutral. He’d seen several signs to the effect of “be better than they were” but none were outright negative.

Jasmine seemed right at home, almost more comfortable than he was, as they drove. She waved and smiled and seemed to genuinely be enjoying herself. But since they arrived at the palace, he hadn’t seen her.

He’d been taken straight to his new office, the one that had belonged to every monarch for centuries. His father hadn’t stepped inside in nearly a year, but his presence still hovered over the place.

When he walked in, the first thing that struck David was that they couldn’t have done this much work in the few hours since the verdict had been handed down. They had to have been working on the transition significantly longer than that. The carpets had been replaced as well as the furniture. The whole thing had a lighter, airier feel than it had when his father and grandfather had occupied the space. Maybe who they were as people had as much to do with it as décor did, but he definitely preferred it now.

Immediately, he had phone calls coming in from members of the Council and Parliament, as well as heads of state from around the world. It was hours before he had a chance to do more than sip on the water Stewart kept refilled.

For now, Stewart and his father’s chief aide would be working together, but Stewart would be keeping a close eye on the man. If he seemed to be undermining David’s authority or working against him in any manner, he would be relieved from duty. But for now, he knew the ins and outs and had a working relationship with more key players - or at least their assistants - than Stewart did.

David finally managed to take a short break and eat a very late dinner at his desk. The clock had just slipped over into a new day when he decided enough was enough.

His old quarters weren’t an option for some reason. Neither were the monarch’s quarters. He’d heard muttering that his mother had to be practically dragged out when her plea bargain became official a couple of days earlier. It seemed like that could be a big part of the reason why.

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