AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I didn’t. “I do,” I lied. “I would feel it.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, glancing out the window, never letting go of my hand.
I really didn’t have time to think of myself or my sister.
He needed me.
CHAPTER 4
“Eliza, you will ride with us,” my grandmother said as she stepped into her royal car with my mother.
I looked at my cousins, hoping against hope one of them would save me, but they clamped down their lips to fight the laughter they clearly wanted to give in to.
“Oh, don’t make that face,” my aunt said beside her as she adjusted her gloves. “You’re your grandmother’s favorite; no one else can referee between them but you. Go on.”
I hated that she was right. “Pray we survive,” I said to her before walking the plank toward the car.
Maybe, because of Arty, they wouldn’t be so bad, I thought hopefully as I entered the car and sat opposite my mother beside my grandmother. The scent of perfume—Shalimar by Guerlain—coming off her skin was always familiar, seeing as how she had worn that same scent for decades. It was supposed to be discontinued, but the company still sent her a bottle every year. We all just called it her scent now.
My grandmother, Queen Arabella, was like a thorn bush…every once in a while, there was a flower in there, but it was almost always only thorns. Even still, for some reason, she and I always got on the most. I didn’t know why; no one did, but everyone always left me to deal with her because of it.
“Did he you tell you of his plans with Sophia?” she questioned my mother, like a head nun of a convent—head up, chest out, holding her walking cane tightly.
“He did not,” my mother said gently, looking out the window.
“So you had no idea? Our new queen did not even tell you?” she pressed.
“I don’t think she knew, Grandmama,” I said, seeing how my mother was…well, trying to focus on what today meant. “I saw her face; she was just as surprised as we all were.”
“It is exactly as I feared.” She huffed, shaking, and adjusting the ribbon on her jacket. “Galahad is too rash. He jumps to action because he wishes to prove himself. And now look at the mess he has made.”
“Grandmama, how is this a mess?” I asked, looking at her. “Sophia is Arthur’s widow. It’s touching that he—”
“We do not make princesses out of widows, Eliza,” she interrupted sternly. “Especially one who has no children in the royal family.”
“Grandmama—”
“It is harsh, yes. But it is the truth.” She was clearly not going to let me speak. “Sophia is barely connected to us any longer. It is a shame; the girl would have been perfect for our next queen. However, the cards have fallen as they have. One day, she could very well marry again. Have children. Are we to continue to invite her as part of our personal family, part of the royal family?”
I frowned. Sophia was always part of our family. For years she’d joined us even before she had married Arty, simply because we knew they would one day be together. She was somewhat of an older sister to me. “Arty would want—”
“Arty is gone,” my mother finally spoke up, tearing her gaze from the window, and looked at me. “Your grandmother is right. Galahad shouldn’t have made her a princess. All he’s doing is trapping her with us. She was supposed to be free now. Disappear quietly back into common life. Now forever, she will be haunted by Arty’s memory. Always, no matter what, remembered as Sophia, Princess of Elmburgh, widow of Prince Arthur.”
“Mother, she was so happy, she was crying—”
“Of course, she is happy. Everyone is happy the first day they are named princess. Then the burden comes.” My grandmother scoffed, checking out the window.
“You know those burdens, Eliza,” my mother added.
I’d never been in this position. They were on the same page? But I did know what they were referring to. A life where everyone saw the tiara on your head even if you were in jeans and a hoodie just trying to have fun at a concert, like everyone else.
“Being given this title will mean should she ever smile or fall in love again, the media will rip her apart, saying she has forgotten Arty and is somehow disloyal and undeserving.” My mother frowned as if she could see it happening.
“Okay, you’ve both convinced me. But what can we do?” I asked, looking between them. “It’s not like we can take the title back from her, can we?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Eliza.” My grandmother frowned. “Galahad cannot possibly take her title back. It would look like he made a mistake.”
“Didn’t you both just agree he made a mistake?”
