picky, because I desire that, if and when I attach my life to another’s, it will be to someone I can at least talk to. And like as well as respect. Is it so wrong that I would not mind a storybook tale? Not the horrible bits—no poisoned apples or sleeping spells. I do not even require a prince, let alone a charming one. My life is one of service. Responsibility. Importance. When the day comes and I assume the throne, I simply wish somebody I love to be in my corner. And if I cannot find that, I would rather not marry.
I tell my father, “I am well aware of that, sir.”
He slips off his reading spectacles and sets them on the desk. “Let me assure you every precaution will be taken to secure the location. At this very moment, Hearst Castle is closed to the public for renovations and restorations, and is not scheduled to reopen to the public for another two months. While the location is news to you today, the MC has worked closely with the American government for nearly two years to ensure the Summit goes off without a hitch.”
His words, so crisp and no-nonsense, leave no door open for dissention.
“I am sure you are curious as to why Hearst Castle was chosen,” he continues. “Of that, I will indulge you. After much discussion, the MC decided it best to meet on neutral ground. The United States is a good choice. While we could have easily taken over a hotel, many feel an event such as the Decennial Summit deserves something special. Hearst Castle and its history fit the bill.”
I am beating my head against a wall. “It is no longer in use as a residence!”
“Another fact I am also aware of, Elsa.”
It is a soft jab; he is informing me that none of my arguments carry any weight in his mind.
I want to argue: It’s a tourist trap.
He would counter: I’ve already addressed that issue.
I want to argue: From what I saw on the website, it is not a very big venue for such a large party.
He would argue: That’s part of its allure.
I want to argue: Where will everyone sleep? We have employees to think of, too. Will we all be in tents?
He would argue: You worry too much. It will be taken care of.
I want to argue: Please do not force me to be part of the RMM.
He would argue: The House of Vasa lives and dies by tradition.
But none of this is said. There is no need, not when the outcome is so easily predicted. Instead, I remain silent in my defeat as he reclaims his pen. “You’d best hurry if you are to make your appointment this afternoon. I know the children would be sorely disappointed if you missed story time.”
Translation: You are dismissed.
I am at the door when he adds, “Please let your sister know she will be expected to accompany us. There is vital business I must attend to at the Summit, and I will need my girls with me.”
At first I am stunned, but that is foolish of me. Of course Isabelle is to come. She is an attractive bargaining chip, after all.
Three days. There are three days until we journey to California. Three days until the Royal Marriage Market opens its doors after being shuttered for ten years.
Three days until life as I know it will change, whether I wish it so or not.
chapter 2
christian
My mother, non-affectionately known to my brother and myself as the She-Wolf, pats my shoulder like I’m once again four years old as she shrewdly eyes what I’ve just thrown onto my desk. “You ought to be happy about this, Christian. Yet, you look as if you’re off to the gallows. Are you terribly sure you aren’t a homosexual? Or perhaps asexual? Most men of my acquaintance would be pleased at the prospect of so many potential conquests in such a small location.”
She’s got a tulip glass in her hand as she invades my personal space, lipstick ringing the rim. It’s, what, three bloody o’clock in the afternoon? I make a mental note to inform Parker he needs to do a better job arranging my schedule around my mother’s, so meetings like this are
I tell my father, “I am well aware of that, sir.”
He slips off his reading spectacles and sets them on the desk. “Let me assure you every precaution will be taken to secure the location. At this very moment, Hearst Castle is closed to the public for renovations and restorations, and is not scheduled to reopen to the public for another two months. While the location is news to you today, the MC has worked closely with the American government for nearly two years to ensure the Summit goes off without a hitch.”
His words, so crisp and no-nonsense, leave no door open for dissention.
“I am sure you are curious as to why Hearst Castle was chosen,” he continues. “Of that, I will indulge you. After much discussion, the MC decided it best to meet on neutral ground. The United States is a good choice. While we could have easily taken over a hotel, many feel an event such as the Decennial Summit deserves something special. Hearst Castle and its history fit the bill.”
I am beating my head against a wall. “It is no longer in use as a residence!”
“Another fact I am also aware of, Elsa.”
It is a soft jab; he is informing me that none of my arguments carry any weight in his mind.
I want to argue: It’s a tourist trap.
He would counter: I’ve already addressed that issue.
I want to argue: From what I saw on the website, it is not a very big venue for such a large party.
He would argue: That’s part of its allure.
I want to argue: Where will everyone sleep? We have employees to think of, too. Will we all be in tents?
He would argue: You worry too much. It will be taken care of.
I want to argue: Please do not force me to be part of the RMM.
He would argue: The House of Vasa lives and dies by tradition.
But none of this is said. There is no need, not when the outcome is so easily predicted. Instead, I remain silent in my defeat as he reclaims his pen. “You’d best hurry if you are to make your appointment this afternoon. I know the children would be sorely disappointed if you missed story time.”
Translation: You are dismissed.
I am at the door when he adds, “Please let your sister know she will be expected to accompany us. There is vital business I must attend to at the Summit, and I will need my girls with me.”
At first I am stunned, but that is foolish of me. Of course Isabelle is to come. She is an attractive bargaining chip, after all.
Three days. There are three days until we journey to California. Three days until the Royal Marriage Market opens its doors after being shuttered for ten years.
Three days until life as I know it will change, whether I wish it so or not.
chapter 2
christian
My mother, non-affectionately known to my brother and myself as the She-Wolf, pats my shoulder like I’m once again four years old as she shrewdly eyes what I’ve just thrown onto my desk. “You ought to be happy about this, Christian. Yet, you look as if you’re off to the gallows. Are you terribly sure you aren’t a homosexual? Or perhaps asexual? Most men of my acquaintance would be pleased at the prospect of so many potential conquests in such a small location.”
She’s got a tulip glass in her hand as she invades my personal space, lipstick ringing the rim. It’s, what, three bloody o’clock in the afternoon? I make a mental note to inform Parker he needs to do a better job arranging my schedule around my mother’s, so meetings like this are
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