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Chapter 17
“Your approval rating often fluctuates between 45–51% percent, ma’am,” said the stringent voice of Mrs. Barbara Malyns, dressed in a skirt suit with a 90s short hairstyle and clip-on earrings. “The public seems to have an ever-varying opinion on you. Some see you as an opportunist who used her family’s money and connection to buy a ticket to royalty. Others see you as a wounded victim of racism and unfair criticism. Then there are the few who see it all as a whirlwind romance. What is the truth?”
The camera panned on my face.
“Can’t the truth be all of it?” I asked her.
“What do you mean? So, you did use your money’s family and connections?” She pressed the camera, switching from her face to mine.
“There is no way I could not use my family or connections,” I said calmly. “I don’t know if people want to hear this, but the truth is, sometimes life is a little bit unfair. You can only get into some doors or some rooms by those two things. I don’t know if I would have met the king if I wasn’t the daughter of Marvin Wyntor. There are a whole host of people I don’t think I could have ever met if not for my father’s hard work. But isn’t that the truth for everyone? You often meet people within your sphere or circle. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t aiming to. But that is how it worked out. I can say the whirlwind romance is very true, as you’ve been a witness to.”
“And racism?” she questioned. “Do you feel like you are being treated horribly by the people of Ersovia?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Because I have not met all the people of Ersovia. Most of all, the ones I have met have been gracious and open and kind. You yourself said I have an approval rating between 45–51%. That is proof enough of the people.”
“But what of the other half? Do you think they are racist?”
“I think they don’t know me yet.”
“And the ones who do and openly say they do not like you. That they do not want you and do not accept you as their queen. What do you think of them?” she pressed.
I paused, and once again, the camera shot was very close to my face. “I think…truthfully, I don’t know. Sometimes upset, other times I’m sad, then determined.”
“Determined?”
I nodded. “Determined to prove myself to them. I have to think that it is possible even if they don’t. I have hope that they will see something else in me.”
“Do you hate them?”
“I try not to.”
“Even with Mr. Ambrose?”
I inhaled, and I could see my chest rise a bit. “I try very hard not to. Some days I am better at that than others.”
“To the people at home who are watching, what would you say to them?” she asked.
“I will work as hard as I can to gain, hold, and cherish your faith in me,” I said, looking directly into the camera.
“Your Grace, thank you for speaking openly with me.”
“Thank you for allowing me the chance.” I smiled. That was the last shout before the show cut to the title of the documentary The King & Odette: A Love Story.
“What an awful, old woman!” Queen Arabella huffed aghast when the lights in the living room lifted. Her white, wrinkled face snapped to Galahad, who sat beside me. “How did such a divisive woman get the honor of interviewing the queen? She’s ruined it all with her questions!”
“I do not think it was that bad, Grandmama,” Florence said, coming to the couch with her martini.
“Hush, what do you know of these things,” she snapped and returned her sharp glare to the both of us. “Galahad, please tell me you did not approve that!”
“I did, Grandmama,” he said from beside me.
“Is there no way at least to cut out that woman’s part? She ruined the sweetness of it all. All the effort they put into showing you as a loving husband will be washed away by the queen’s opinion on something so trivial.”
My eyebrows rose, and I felt the urge to bite my tongue. Trivial? Speaking of racism and race was trivial?
“No, Grandmama, I think that was the live viewing,” Eliza said quickly, obviously seeing my face had changed.
“Oh no.” Queen Arabella exhaled and then looked at Elspeth. “Were you aware of this?”
