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Upon finishing secondary school, I spent the next three years traveling the world as part of the Humanitarian Corps, my country’s version of the Peace Corps. While it wasn’t originally by choice, I enjoyed the relative freedom I found.
And it taught me about the world. The struggles most people face daily. It made me want to do more for those with less. Bring attention to their plight, whether it be clean water, reproductive rights, or gender equality.
All causes I continued to champion once I went to Paris for university.
Again, I didn’t get to choose where I was to study. Or what, for that matter.
Like the trained puppet I am, I went along with it.
But I can’t go along with this.
I’m well aware I’ll eventually have to marry in order to provide the required “heir and a spare”. I’d hoped to figure out who I am as a person first.
My father’s receptionist, Lila, jumps to her feet and curtseys as I enter the waiting area of his office. “Your Highness.”
“Good morning, Lila. I’m here to see His Majesty.”
“I’ll let them know you’re here.”
I arch a brow. “Them?”
“Of course.” She smiles, spinning from me and scurrying into the conference room.
I curse under my breath. I should have known my grandmother would find a way to weasel into my meeting with my father. I thought by scheduling time with him, I’d be able to discuss this in private. Instead, it gave my grandmother an opportunity to insist on attending, as well, considering she’s a senior member of his privy council.
When Lila returns, my father’s private secretary, Lieutenant Colonel Winters, is with her.
“Your Highness.” He bows. “This way please. They’re ready for you.”
As I follow him toward the conference room, I push down the nerves swimming in my stomach. Remind myself this is merely an informal discussion between family.
But as he announces me and I step over the threshold, any lingering hope I had that my father would put a stop to this plan is dashed when I see he’s surrounded by my grandmother, a few other members of the privy council, as well as the head of palace public relations.
And that’s not all.
Also rising to their feet to greet me are none other than Jameson Gates and his father, Henry.
I was apprehensive about speaking with my father, so maybe this is just an anxiety-fueled hallucination. I’d only just scheduled this meeting yesterday. There’s no way they would have been able to arrange for all these people to be here on such short notice.
Unless it was scheduled earlier without my knowledge and I’m the late-minute addition.
I didn’t pick the time or date. My father’s private secretary chose it for me. It didn’t seem odd at first. My father is a busy man. Now, though, I feel like I’m getting played. Pushed around a chess board like the pawn these people want me to be.
At the sound of a loud throat clearing, I snap out of my increasingly irritated thoughts, my grandmother’s glare reminding me of the required protocol.
Turning toward my father, I do a small curtsey, briefly lowering my eyes. “Your Majesty.”
He stands, he and my grandmother the only ones not obligated to stand when I entered. His dark hair has more flecks of gray than the last time I saw him, his face sporting a few more wrinkles now that he’s in his fifties. But he’s still quite handsome.
Approaching me, he wraps me in a hug that feels more for show than affectionate. “Esme, darling.” He kisses my cheek before dropping his hold on me. “Welcome home.”
“Thank you.”
As he returns to his place at the head of the table, I look at my grandmother, greeting her with a curtsey. “Your Majesty.”
“Have a seat, Esme,” she instructs, gesturing to a chair between Jameson Gates and my father.
I walk toward it, everyone at the table muttering “Your Highness” as I pass.
