Majesty (American Royals, #2)(101)
“Your Majesty—”
“What happened today will stay between us. Robert, you’ll make a statement explaining that we received a threat and had to halt the wedding, but that you won’t be providing any details about the threat as a matter of national security. As for punishment…” Beatrice looked at Samantha, her expression unreadable. “Given that she interrupted my wedding, I will decide what my sister has to do as retribution.”
Robert blinked. “With all due respect—”
“That is a direct order,” Beatrice said smoothly.
It was clear from the set of Robert’s jaw that he violently disagreed, but he acknowledged her statement with a stiff nod.
“Your Majesty, almost two hundred of your guests have already departed, including most of the foreign royalty,” he went on. “No matter how much we reassure them, they claim that they no longer feel safe. The only one who hasn’t already headed to his plane is the King of Germany, and that’s because he apparently slept through the entire fiasco.”
“Who needs foreign royals anyway?” Sam asked, as brightly as she could. “Don’t we have a backup guest list? Or, wait—you could go grab two hundred people from the streets! Think of the PR opportunities!”
Robert closed his eyes and released a long-suffering breath, as if silently praying for strength.
“There’s no need for any of that. We’re postponing the wedding,” Beatrice declared.
The Lord Chamberlain nodded. “Of course, but for how long? We could wait a few hours, or I suppose we could restage everything for tomorrow morning, if you’d rather start fresh.”
The queen shook her head. “We’re postponing indefinitely.”
When Robert realized what she meant, his eyes narrowed. “Beatrice. I will not let you do this.”
“May I remind you to address Her Majesty by her proper title,” Sam chided, and he clenched his hands at his sides.
“What is your plan, Your Majesty?” he asked, sneering. “You’re going to cancel an expensive, intricately planned, global event just because you’re getting cold feet?”
Sam shot Beatrice a livid glance, desperate to interject, but Beatrice gave her head a tiny shake. And Sam realized that this was a battle her sister needed to fight for herself.
A battle that she’d needed to fight for months, but hadn’t been confident enough to, until now.
“It might be a global event, but it’s still my life,” Beatrice said quietly.
Robert’s face was mottled red with outrage. “If you fail to go through with this wedding, you will destroy your family’s legacy. After everything the monarchy has done—”
“Excuse me, everything the monarchy has done?” Sam cut in. “What part of our legacy are you defending, Robert? The colonizing? The gross human rights violations my ancestors committed in the name of expansion and progress? Slavery?” She shook her head so emphatically that her earrings danced. “You can’t possibly say that’s all fine, but, oh no, if my sister postpones a wedding, it’ll destroy the monarchy forever!”
“What could either of you know about legacy?” Robert’s tone was blistering, all trace of politeness utterly gone. He narrowed his eyes at Beatrice. “You are just a girl sitting on a throne that is far too big for you, occupying shoes you can never hope to fill!”
Beatrice stood up straighter. “I am the head of state, not just a girl in a tiara!”
Robert laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “Beatrice, you are a girl in a tiara! That is precisely your job—to smile and do as you’re told and wear the tiara! But if you persist in doing this, you won’t have a tiara for very much longer. As your chamberlain, and the steward of your family’s reputation, I cannot let you go through with it.”
“About that,” Beatrice replied, with a stubborn ferocity as palpable as heat. “You’re dismissed. The Crown no longer has need of your assistance.”
Sam gasped at her sister’s pronouncement. Robert’s brows furrowed in indignation. “You can’t mean that.”
“You’re free to go pack up your things,” Beatrice repeated. “I’ll let the Undersecretary of the Household know that you’re leaving.”
“But—the wedding—”
“Is no longer your concern.”
Robert’s expression was ugly, and twisted with malice. “This country will never accept you ruling alone.”
“No, you were the one who couldn’t accept me ruling alone,” Beatrice corrected. “I’m not sure what the country is going to think, but I’m willing to give them a chance.”
Robert opened his mouth—but drew to a halt at something in the Washington women’s expressions. “Very well, then. Your Majesty.” He spat her title with utter disdain and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Oh, Bee” was all Sam could say, as Beatrice threw her arms around her and held tight.
They stood like that for a while, clinging to each other with such force that Sam couldn’t have said which of them was leaning on the other. Maybe they both were. That was what you did with family, wasn’t it? You grabbed hold of them and didn’t let go. You supported each other’s weight, held each other up, even when you lacked the strength to stand on your own.