“I assure you, Grace,” the PM says, “this matter is utterly serious. Hear her out. Please.” She almost chokes on the word.
“Amelia’s heir belongs on Adria’s throne, Grace,” Ann tells me, stopping only briefly to push her hair out of her face as the wind blows harder. “I’ve always wanted that. When I was a girl I wanted it more than anything. I still do. For a time, it seemed that I was Amelia’s heir, and I started trying to right this wrong then. I met the prince. I married the prince. Your mother and Karina and I … we thought we’d solved the problem. But I was the wrong princess.” The words are so surreal, so … crazy. I can’t quite believe this is happening when she says, “You are the right princess, and I want to end this. Now.”
“End it how?” I ask.
Ann smiles and shakes her head as if the answer should be the most obvious thing ever. “If Amelia’s heir marries the crown prince, then we are one generation from Amelia’s bloodline returning to its rightful place. All we need is a marriage. And a baby.”
“Baby?” I look at the PM. “Did she just say baby?”
“It is a tidy solution,” the PM says.
“You’re both crazy.”
“Grace, wait!” PM Petrovic calls out to me before I can leave. Or fight. Or … jump. The wind is in my face now, slapping me awake.
“Ann married the prince to put Amelia’s heir upon the throne. Now it is up to you to do the same.”
I know that she’s not joking—Prime Minister Petrovic doesn’t tease. But the earnest expressions that greet me don’t belong here. Someone’s playing a joke. Even if it is God.
“Please, Grace,” Ann says. “Let us end it.”
I look at the PM. “It would be best for everyone. For you. For your brother. For whatever children either of you might have,” she says.
“And the line in the constitution about what would happen if Amelia or her heirs were to show up? We’re supposed to forget about that, are we? If I’m right, your job would go away, wouldn’t it?” I ask the PM.
“Do you want anarchy?” she asks. It’s almost like a dare.
“I want a nap, Ms. Petrovic. I want a shower and the chance to wake up in the morning not terrified that someone’s gonna try to kill me. Again.”
She nods. “This plan gives you that, Grace. We can draw up papers. Your brother can abdicate the throne. And within a few years the succession will be secure. Amelia’s bloodline will be merged with the current royal family, and this will never be a problem again.”
“Okay. Fine. Then draw the papers up for me. Let me abdicate, too!”
“No.” PM Petrovic shakes her head. “As you said, there may be other heirs. There no doubt are other heirs. This needs to end, Grace. You need to end it. Put Amelia’s bloodline back where it belongs.”
“Bloodlines! You’re talking to me about bloodlines! As if I’m … livestock. How can you both stand there and talk about breeding me as if that’s all I’m good for?”
Ann actually smirks—she smiles—but there’s no joy in it. “Welcome to life as a princess.”
They’re serious, I realize. They’re crazy, but they are also 100 percent serious. And I should be, too.
Two hundred years ago rebels threw open the palace gates and massacred a family and changed the kingdom. The world. Somehow, that’s brought me here, two centuries later. I think about the king and queen whose bodies hung from the palace windows, a cautionary tale. And then I think about my mother, about my brother’s friend. And Grandpa.
Centuries have passed, and people are still dying.
But if these two women are to be believed, I may be the only one who can stop it.
I should feel high on power, but I just feel sick with grief. For the people who are already gone and for whatever future I might have had right up until this moment.
“If I take your deal, it will be a trade,” I say. “I’ll move into the palace just as soon as my grandfather leaves. Not before.”
The PM and Ann share a look. Then the PM smiles. “That is acceptable.”
“You are a monster,” I tell her, but she isn’t insulted. Not even a little bit.
“I’m the monster who just guaranteed that you and your children and your children’s children will never have to worry about this bomb going off ever again.”
She seems so proud of herself as she and Ann turn to leave.
I hate them. I hate them so much.
Mostly because they’re right.
I wake up early. Well, that’s assuming I sleep at all. Which I don’t. Not really. I know the marines are outside 24-7, keeping watch and standing guard. But my ghosts are already inside the embassy. My mother’s bed creaks beneath my weight. Shadows dance across my walls. The tree outside my window is gone now, chopped down and hauled away, partially to keep people from crawling in, partially to keep me from crawling out. And I know it doesn’t matter. There’s no place left for me to run even if I tried.