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“I don't think anybody could possibly think you don't exist, darling,” Mummy replies, darting me a quick wink. “I'm fairly sure the stable boy can hear you, and he's a half a kilometer away.”
Sofia pinches her lips together, not the least impressed.
I rub my eyes and swing my legs into a sitting position. “Although it's wonderful to see you both, as always, why did you bring this conversation in here to my rooms?”
“Your sister has a few opinions she would like to share with you today, and she decided that right in the middle of a dressmaker appointment was an appropriate time,” Mummy replies.
“Lucky me,” I say without a hint of sarcasm. Honestly.
Sofia isn’t listening. “I’m the oldest, you know. I should inherit the throne, not Alex. They changed the laws in Malveaux decades ago to allow women to become rightful queen. They’ve gone and found one in America, for heaven’s sake. Why not us?”
“You want us to find some American to become Queen?” I ask and win a venomous look from my sister.
“Not helping, Alex,” she grinds out.
“Darling, I'm not responsible for the Ledonian laws. You know that as well as I do. Not even your father has the ability to change them.” Mummy picks up the blazer I’d slung across the chair and pats it down before hanging it carefully on the chair’s back.
Sofia pouts. “But he's the King. And you’re the Queen.”
“Yes, but it needs to be passed by Parliament, darling, a fact of which you are very well aware.”
“She's just blowing off steam,” I comment.
Of course Sofia knows about the Ledonian laws. She knows that as the first-born son, I inherit the throne. It might be sexist and old fashioned and altogether wrong, but that's the way it is in this country. She also knows that she, just like Amelia, our younger sister, will have an arranged marriage if they’re not married by the time they’re 28. Again, it's just the way things are.
Pity for Sofia she’s just turned 27.
Not that I really understand why she wants to be Queen someday. I've seen what my parents do and it's not all it's cracked up to be. Seriously. Their days are as regimented as a military exercise, each minute accounted for as they move from briefings to ribbon cuttings, to visiting hospitals, to releasing the newest batch of royal pheasants in the wild. Yup, pheasants. It’s a whole thing here in Ledonia. Malveaux has their peacocks, and we have our pheasants. In fact, the pheasant is our national bird. Significantly less cool than a bear or a tiger or even a bigger, fiercer version, like an eagle. Sure, pheasants are beautiful creatures, but they squawk and scare so easily, flapping their wings furiously as they try to lumber their large bodies off the ground.
But I digress.
My point is, being a monarch in 21st century Ledonia isn’t exactly exciting.
Not that my sister sees it that way.
“I’m not just blowing off steam, thank you Alexander,” Sofia says with a glare.
“I’m Alexander, am I? I must be in trouble,” I quip. Sofia only ever calls me by my proper name when she’s angry with me.
And just to be clear, she’s angry with me because I possess the relevant male appendage our mother doesn’t want named. Not exactly something I can change—the appendage or where I stand in line.
“That neckline is too high on you,” our mother observes, which launches her and Sofia into a discussion on necklines I decide to blank right out.
Our younger sister, Amelia, a far more relaxed and reasonable human being right now, finds her way into the apartment and flops down onto the sofa next to me. She too is in a ball gown, the same Ledonian red as Sofia’s. “You're back.”
“Very observant of you, Ami,” I reply with a grin.
“How was it?”
“The same as usual. Parties, photographers, a lot of smiling.”
“How dull.” She leans closer to me. “Poor Mummy. Sofe’s been going on for the last 15 minutes. It's so boring,” she says in hushed tones.
“I'm not going to argue with that.” I skim my eyes over her outfit. “Why are you dressed in a silk evening gown and a pair of high tops?”
She straightens her legs and hikes up her dress to reveal both sneaker-clad feet. “I think it's a winning combination. Don't you?”
“No.”
