The induction ceremony flies by in a blur, and there’s part of me that feels like the entire thing borders on the absurd. As Phillip had hastily informed me when I arrived back at my rooms that morning after leaving Jessica in the queen’s quarters, it would resemble a shortened version of a coronation ceremony.
“A coronation ceremony?” I stumble out, the words tripping over my tongue as I examine the outfit he’s laid out for the occasion. I hate the purple tie he’s selected, but it’s part of the customary royal attire.
“Yes,” he says, swiping at his tablet. “Apparently it’s written into Saintland law that the ceremony has to take place according to those parameters for it to be official.”
“Do you ever get the impression, Phillip, that King Edward was a control freak?”
Phillip is loath to speak of even long-dead kings with disrespect, but I’m the future king, so he compromises by delivering one sharp nod.
I shake my head and sigh, opting not to argue as I head off to take a shower.
The hot water is refreshing as it beats down rhythmically on my shoulders, releasing the stress from my muscles, but it does nothing to wash away the embarrassment I feel over what happened last night. Of all the fucking things, I had to go and fall asleep like an old man.
I bet Jessica is wondering what type of man she’s gotten herself hooked up with and regretting her decision.
Knowing her kind heart and generous nature, she’ll forgive me. I don’t know if I would be as forgiving if the roles were reversed.
I also don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for how I treated Marcus, but I can’t dwell on that now. All I can do now is work my ass off to make him proud.
And a son who my father will be proud of.
The ceremony itself goes off without a hitch, aside from the fact that something – or rather someone – is missing from the front row, where my father sits beside one of my uncles and several high-ranking Saintland officials. Where the hell is Jessica?
I pull Phillip aside after the thirty-minute event is over.
“Why wasn’t Jessica seated with my father?” I hiss.
He looks at me as if I’m speaking a goddamn foreign language. “She’s not a member of the royal family.”
I narrow my eyes at him and the vein in my neck starts to bulge in anger. “She wasn’t a member of the royal family at my brother’s funeral, either,” I say through clenched teeth.
Phillip takes a deep breath. I don’t envy him his job. “No, your highness, she was not, but the protocols for this ceremony are actually written into Saintland law. The event planners adhered strictly to the written edict when they arranged the seating.
“Your father approved it,” he added.
Swallowing my irritation, I give Phillip a curt nod. In my new role, I can’t be having outbursts, no matter how badly something pisses me off. At any rate, Jessica won’t have minded. She understands the way things need to be and realizes there are a lot of pomp and circumstance surrounding royal expectations and rules.
As I make my way through to the Great Hall leading the post-ceremony processional, I can’t stop thinking about it, though. I wanted Jessica to be right there, and she couldn’t be. She’s a square peg in the round hole of Saintland politics, even though she’s managed to navigate most of the things I’ve asked of her with surprising grace.
Marcus had the right idea about giving everything to his duties.
The thought swims around in my mind before I can cut it off at the pass, and I instantly hate myself for thinking it. My brother, I’m sure, never had feelings for a woman in the same way that I do for Jessica.
Especially in bed with Jessica, a place where I haven’t been holding up my end of the bargain.
While I’m self-loathing, a seed of truth plants itself in the back of my mind.
Marcus may not have been happy, but his decisions did make his life as crown prince easier.
Another woman could do that for me.
I spot Jessica waiting in the Great Hall. She’s standing off to the side near a long table brimming with food for the reception, talking with an ambassador from Germany. Even though the terse set of her face tells me something is bothering her, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s the only woman I want to wake up to every morning and go to sleep beside at night for the rest of my life.
Something else occurs to me and stops me in my tracks. Even with her grace, beauty, and poise, she’s simply not in a position to help me steer Saintland in a positive direction.
If she was to become queen, the position would be largely ceremonial and dictated by tradition, but another woman with more political pull could do more than make small talk with ambassadors.
Hot shame pierces my chest. With a start, I realize I’ve been considering her from across the room as if she were just another political asset, and a deficient one at that.