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I know what I have to do.
Story of my life. I know what I have to do, and then I go and do it. That simple. For someone in my position, it’s not responsible or brave: it’s inevitable. I have no other choice.
“I’ll do it,” I tell Hector, who is already shaking his head, following my train of thought without me having to voice any words. “Give me a second to fix my hair.”
It’s all about the hair when you’re being filmed, everyone knows that.
“No,” he grabs my wrist to stop me. “Liv, no. I can’t let you do that.”
“Who asked you to let me do anything?” I disentangle my hand from him, but he tugs harder.
“I’m begging you.” His crystal eyes find mine, frantic. “His Majesty will have my head.”
“Oh, Hector,” I sigh, and he must hear something final in my voice, because he finally drops my hand. “He already does.”
***
In fifteen minutes, I have straightened my hair to within an inch of its life, thrown on a UVM sweatshirt, and am running down the stairs to address the reporters. Hector and three other guards are hot on my heels, surrounding me, one in front of me, one behind me, and two at the sides, their arms touching me, they are standing so close.
My head is still pounding, but I push the pain aside.
There is no room for personal stuff in this life; I will not make that mistake again.
Let’s just get it over with.
I address the reporters, smile for their cameras, take questions. I handle the hard questions (aren’t they all right now?) as I have been taught to, with honesty and diplomacy at the same time, which is absolute bullcrap. There is no way to be honest and diplomatic at the same time. Especially when you’re swimming in a sea of lies, like I am. Drowning in it.
At the end of it all, I say:
“Please have respect for my family and my school at this difficult time. I am struggling to deal with this, as you can imagine, and my fellow students did not choose to be a part of this turmoil. They deserve a normal and peaceful college experience. They deserve safety.”
Some of the reporters even tear up. I know some of them from Asteria: they have flown overnight to be here. My heart aches for them. They are just doing their jobs—most of them.
“Please,” I say, tears prickling my eyes. Dammit. “You are owed the truth, and so am I. I make a solemn promise that I will share it with everyone the minute I have discovered it. That is the most I can say.”
Hector inhales sharply behind me, and I turn my head slightly and nod once, to indicate that I’m done. The next second, he and the other guards are heading towards the reporters to shepherd them away, so that I can leave.
Well, it’s not so easy, of course.
I am detained for a couple more hours by their questions, but by the end of it, satisfied with their footage, they leave.
And just like that, the problem is solved. The lawn is completely clear of reporters. I drag myself back to my bed, and Hector almost has to carry me part of the way, I’m so depleted.
“Wow,” Bianca says. She was watching from the window—every single student was. “Just… wow.”
“What?”
“What you did… Imagine having the power to do something like that.”
“Amazing, isn’t it? Being so powerful. So. Incredibly. Powerful.” My voice drips with sarcasm. I am the most powerless person I know.
“It will be,” Bianca says quietly, “one day, when you learn how to wield it instead of being trapped by it.”
“Are you talking to me as if I’m a young wizard whose name rhymes with Gary right now?”
“Yep,” she says. “Don’t know what else to do. I haven’t had as much experience with having a royal friend as you would expect.” It might be the exhaustion, but another shiver runs down my spine when she casually drops the ‘friend’ word on me. Again. After all this. How pathetic to get so excited about a word. How amazing, too. “God, you look pale.”
“I need to sleep, please.” My eyes drift closed.
