Page 78 of The Midnight Princess
I nod.Nothing.
He slides a small tin of hard candy across the table, and I catch it. Wild berry. My favorite.
It was just the two of us before the twins showed up and demanded the lion’s share of attention. By nature, we’re both workhorses, putting our heads down and getting on with our public roles. Of course, his definition of that has stretched to include nosy magazine profiles titled “Crown Princess Roulette” next to thumbnail-sized photos of an entire page of models he’s taken out in the last year.
My brother knows how discrete I’ve been. He knows this flurry of speculation and gossip about my wedding is my worst nightmare. He knows that when I nod and pretend like it’s nothing, it’s something.
With a smile, I pop a small candy into my mouth.Thanks.
Clara appears, swinging her leather portfolio. She hugs Freja from the back, kissing her face over and over. Smiling, Freja peels her off. When our youngest sister slips into her chair, I pass her the keys to Max’s cottage. “Thank you. I really needed that.”
“Anytime.”
“Why is there a flotation fob on the keys to a house?” I ask.
“You never know when you’ll fall in the water.” She looks impossibly innocent.
Père and Ella arrive at the same time, and Père’s effusive greeting—pulling Freja into his arms, calling herdonnina, and kissing her cheeks—provides cover for Ella’s pointed silence. I absorb these details and feel the strange sensation of wanting to share them with someone.
My cheeks flush with the specificity of the feeling. I want to share them with Jacob. I grip a pen by both ends, rolling it in my fingers, trying to erase the thought. Jacob isn’t family.
Even my family doesn’t get my whole self. Noah gets the piece of me that speaks honestly about my mother. My younger sisters get the piece that comforts and cajoles them into accepting the limits of our lives. Père receives the slice of Alma who can enjoy the present moment. Mama takes the piece who considers the future.
Any given thought can be shopped around to half a dozen people, but I don’t want to shop with Jacob. I want to give him the keys to my mind palace and have him poke around wherever he likes, slipping records out of their sleeves, digging through the leftovers in the kitchen, stretching out on the sofa and pulling me against him—
The pen clatters from my fingertips.
Mama enters, and I scramble to my feet.
“Good morning.” She glances down the table, and we take our seats again. “I’m pleased to see everyone gathered for this news. I met with Prime Minister Torbald yesterday,” she begins. “He informs me that following the state visit next month, a bill will be introduced in Parliament to strip Freja from the succession.”
She drops this information and Ella leaps from her chair. “That slug-facedvailys.He can’t—”
Mama silences and seats her with a raised hand. “He can, and he will.”
“It’s only a number,” Freja says, but her lips are pale. “It’s not like I would be run out of the family. It’s just that you won’t be able to give me throw pillows and hats with the number 4 printed on them. I could pass them on to Clara.”
“Don’t,” Clara snaps. Our littlest sister is the only one whose position in the line of succession would move up. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and I bet she’s biting the inside of her cheek—a habit she’s trying to break.
Noah tents his fingers on a notebook. “The prime minister is flexing his muscles because we represent a threat to his power.If he wins, this move could easily lead to more substantial acts of aggression.” He glances at Freja. “Does your position matter to you?”
Her smile wobbles. “I spent months trading on my title to get citizens of Sondmark into The National Museum last year. Being Her Royal Highness Princess Freja has some definite perks.”
“Freja, do take this seriously,” I say, wondering how she can look so calm about the prospect of her entire identity being ripped away.
Ella is merely outraged, her emotions simple and smooth. “Perks? You call the privileges and requirements of our lifeperks?” Mama raises a hand, but Ella raises her voice, too far gone to stop. “We serve the people of Sondmark. That’s the deal our stupid, short-sighted ancestors made when they took the crown. The people need us to anchor this country so some blowhard whipping up popular sentiment doesn’t push us into the ocean.”
She begins slapping the table, pounding out a rhythm, her words a freight train. “We wear the clothes and the tiaras and contract loveless marriages andbarelyeat the food because we’re here to serve. The perks don’t matter. The duty does. Otherwise, this is all a racket.”
The room echoes with her explosive fury. Have any of us escaped without shrapnel wounds? Not me. Mama contracted one of those loveless marriages. I have too.
“That’s enough,” Mama commands, lifting her voice. Ella flops into her seat, and Mama pins her with a look. “Comport yourself. Now,” she pivots, “my office will work to mitigate the consequences of this hasty marriage…”
For the remainder of the meeting, family peace is a group project. We fill one another’s gaps, we answer when we’re spoken to. Even Ella accepts her list of engagements with noneof her usual protests, likely a silent message to her twin.See? I’m being royal.
As soon as Mama concludes the meeting, Ella darts away, and Freja watches her go with a sigh, her mouth set. When Caroline returns the coat, Freja digs into her bag. “You’re invited to our house party,” she says, passing around envelopes.
I slip my finger under the wax seal, drawing the card from the envelope.
