A dozen memories from my adolescence come rushing back, and I shiver.
It’s downright fucking spooky.
****
Later, I sit behind the desk in the Royal Office, the painting of my proud, elegant grandmother in her crown and robes hanging on the wall behind me. There’s a comfort in its presence, like she’s still here with me, having my back as she always did, in her own way. A full appreciation of her support and guidance, didn’t really hit me until she was gone.
And I missed her so much—I still do.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
My oldest daughter pops her head in. “You wanted to see me, Dad?”
I set the document I was reviewing aside. “Yes, sweets. Sit down.”
Her black designer slacks make a swishing sound as she glides into the office. She takes the chair across from me, folding her legs, her face serene and smiling.
“I wanted to talk to you about the press conference earlier.”
“It was fantastic, wasn’t it?” Jane’s eyes glance to the painting. “I think Great-Granny would be pleased that another worthy cause has been created in her honor.”
I smile tightly. “Yes, she would be. For the most part, you did very well, Jane—I’m proud of you.”
Her pretty head tilts. “For the most part?”
“Well…there was that one interaction, with the journalist who misaddressed you. I wanted to discuss that with you.”
“What about it?”
“You could’ve just let it pass.”
She shrugs. “But I was right. He was wrong. Now he knows for next time.”
This is going to be harder than I thought.
“While that’s technically true, your response to him came off as rather…,” I swirl my hand, searching for the right word. “…entitled sounding.”
Her brow furrows. “But I am…entitled. That’s the point, isn’t it? You succeeded Great-Grandmother and I will succeed you. I’m entitled to the position, by birth. That’s what is means to be the heir.”
I chuckle. Because she makes it sound so simple.
“You wouldn’t be the heir if your uncle hadn’t abdicated.”
“But he did abdicate—as he should have. He didn’t want it. My cousins are happy for that—they wouldn’t have wanted it either. I do. Why shouldn’t I act like it?”
“Just because you can say something, doesn’t mean you should. You are the Crown Princess—your attitude reflects on all of us. You must behave,” I choke out the next word, “…properly.”
Then I glance at the ceiling and brace for the lightning bolt that’s sure to come down from the sky and strike me right in the arse. Because…the irony.
When it doesn’t come, I continue.
“You should be humble, Jane. Show gratitude.”
My daughter scoffs. “Why does a journalist deserve my gratitude?”
“He deserves your respect. They all do—they’re our subjects, our citizens.”
She rolls her eyes. Cheeky – and not in a cute way.
“I used to think I didn’t need the press either, and I was wrong. When your day comes, this will go much easier for you if the press and the people are on your side.”
And now she huffs. And folds her arms unhappily.
When our children were young, Sarah and I decided against spankings, it wasn’t how we wanted to raise them. Now I’m thinking we were wrong in Jane’s case—she’s got too much of my petulant stubbornness. We probably should’ve beaten her, at least a little.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Dad.”
I point at her. “The fact that you think so is exactly what concerns me.”
“The people will have no other side to be on, but mine. When I’m Queen, they’ll like it or as far as I’m concerned, they can piss the hell off.”
Wow. Holy shit—wow.
I gape at her.
This is how Obi-Wan must’ve felt when Anakin turned to the fucking Dark Side.
“They could protest against you. Fight to overthrow you.”
She waves her hand. “Revolutions are never successful anymore.”
My voice rises. With frustration and also worry. For my darling daughter who thinks she knows everything, when in reality she knows so very little.
“Successful or not, why would you want to govern a populace who is openly revolting against you? Why would you think that you even could?”
She shrugs again. “I’ll have the military with me. They’ll follow my orders—and I’ll be smart enough to stop any rebellion before it starts.”
What a beautiful little monster she sounds like.
“And that, dear girl, is called a dictatorship. Those never end well. For anyone.”