Royally Not Ready(21)

I take the envelope from him, and he leaves, giving me some space.

With shaky fingers, I open the envelope and unfold the letter.

Dear Lilija,

My dearest granddaughter. You might not know who I am, but I am quite familiar with you. Ever since you were born until your mother passed, I received pictures of you and letters, telling me what a brilliant and kind girl you are. I was there when you went through your Barbie phase. I was there when you cut your fringe despite your mother’s protests. And I was there when you got your very first job helping Mrs. Odom roll balls of yarn. I’ve been a part of your life from a distance and have always respected your mother’s wishes of keeping her two lives separate.

But there has come a time where I need to break that promise, not for selfish reasons, but for reasons greater than the love I have for you and your mother.

The country is at risk of losing its territory, of having its land destroyed, of hurting its people. Without an heir in line to take the throne, our country is lost. I realize this is a lot to ask of you, since you have your own life in Miami, but, Lilija, I beg of you, consider staying here, learning about our country, our culture, where your mother is from. There’s so much of her in you, and I would love for you to see that, to reconnect with her roots.

Please, Lilija, give us a chance. Let us train you in our culture, in our heritage. And after two months, if you don’t feel this life is for you, we’ll hold you close to our heart but part ways. This is your choice, but before you say no, please give us a chance first.

Sending much love to you, my dear.

Theo

(Afi—grandfather)

I have a grandfather. A grandmother too. But where have they been for the last ten years? I get that Theo wanted to respect my mother’s wishes, but ten fucking years after her death is a long-ass time to neglect your own granddaughter.

And he wants me to give up my life for Torskethorpe.

For people I don’t even know.

My fingers collide with another piece of paper and I bring it forward, only for the tears gathered in my eyes to fall.

It’s a picture of me and my mom, standing in front of our house in Miami. She’s kissing me on the cheek while I’m giggling. Oh God, I miss you, Mom. So, so much. I rub my thumb over my mom’s face and quietly ask, “What should I do, Mom?”





Chapter Six





KELLER





“Is she still up in her room?” Brimar asks as he hovers over another pot of soup.

“Yes,” I answer. “She hasn’t come down since I delivered her the letter.”

“Should I go up there and talk to her?” Lara asks.

I shake my head. “No. I think this is a moment when we need her to come to us. We can’t press her.”

Looking worried, Brimar asks, “What do you think she’s going to say?”

I lean on the wood-block counter of the rustic kitchen and fold my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. If I were in her position, I’m not sure what I would do.”

“Yes, you are,” Brimar says. “You’d step up because that’s your personality. Not saying there’s anything wrong with Lilly, but I fear this might be all too much for her. She has a great life in Miami.”

“She does,” I say. “The only way she’d stay is if she wants to find a connection to her mother.”

Lara steps in closer and says, “What if she doesn’t find that connection? What’s going to happen to the country?”

“Not something we need to worry about right now,” I say as I push off the counter. “When’s dinner going to be ready?”

“Ten minutes,” Brimar says. I head out of the kitchen but stop in the doorway when I spot Lilly coming down the stairs.

Her eyes are puffy and red, the normally vibrant girl I met only two days ago is completely gone, and a morose woman steps forward. When her eyes connect with mine, her lips tremble as she says, “Keller?”

“Yes?”

“Can I . . . can I speak with you? Privately?”

“Of course,” I answer. She walks back up the stairs, and I don’t bother looking back toward the kitchen, where I know Brimar and Lara are probably shaking in their slippers.

What’s the worst that could happen if Lilly doesn’t take the throne?

Arkham takes over—which means, we could lose everything. Everything we’ve ever known. Our memories, our identity, our connection to what’s important to us. Our purpose. We could lose it all, and that is a fact that’s far too terrifying to even consider at this moment.

So, I grip the banister tightly and walk up the stairs to Lilly’s room, where she’s sitting on her bed. When her watery eyes connect with mine, she gestures toward the mattress, so I take a seat and wait for her to speak.

After a few moments of silence, she finally says, “I need you to tell me why.”

“Why what?” I ask.

“Why me? Why does this fall on me? I thought I had aunts and uncles.”

She’s looking for answers, and now that I have the freedom to explain to her, I can give her exactly what she needs.

“You do. Two uncles, to be exact, and one aunt. How much do you know?”

“Nothing.” She swipes at a tear. “I know nothing.”