Leander

My mother is not happy. Very not happy. I think, perhaps, she is more ‘not happy’ about this than she is about my father’s death.

“I always knew your flippant attitude to the Crown would get us in trouble, but this-!”

She is yelling at me. She’s ripped off her veil and has thrown it onto the couch. No one can be prepared to mourn when their son has committed such a grievous offence I suppose.

“I didn’t know it was that serious!” I fold my arms. “It’s not like Dad ever sat me down and told me I had to be careful about anything!”

“You should have known not to mess around with something so solemn. He probably could not believe you’d be so stupid!” My mother hisses back, throwing herself onto the couch momentarily, before getting to her feet again. “This Bram child? Who is he?”

“By all accounts, a no one. Third generation immigrant from Albadea,” my uncle says, walking around the couch to perch on the arm of it. My mother’s rooms usually have an aura of lightness and calm, but that’s soured by the knowledge that we will probably lose everything because of my sharp tongue.

The Archbishop has already warned us, we are going to have to leave the Palace now that we are no longer the Royal Family.

“Is he intelligent? Political? Did he serve in the military? Are there any indications he’ll make a good King?” My mother asks. “Are there any indications that he is unsuitable, and we might yet be able to win back the crown?”

I am left out of the conversation entirely. I have thrown away my family’s chances, like a child, and now I am having my problems sorted out for me.

Just like my father always warned me.

“Before I was removed from the crisis room, they were still digging through his background,” Uncle Aurel says. “He appears to have no political or foreign affiliations, however, and nothing that would disqualify him from taking the Crown.”

“What do we do?” I ask, because to stay silent a moment longer would feel like being crushed.

“We need to secure finances. Your father amassed some private wealth, but most of our houses, our possessions, even our clothes, belong to the State.”

I pale.

“My car? My horses?”

Uncle Aurel nods solemnly.

“Everything.”

I feel sick.

“I suggest that you get close to the new Prince. Offer to guide him towards his coronation. Request a salaried position as Royal Advisor. He is young and naive, and he will grant it,” Uncle Aurel continues. “If he trusts us, we may at least be able to play a role in the nation’s future.”

“Marriage?” my mother pipes up.

“Already ruled out. The Bram boy only has a brother, and the children from that marriage are far too young to be considered suitable.” My uncle’s reply is curt.

“Besides, I’m already engaged, aren’t I?” I protest. “Or did you forget about Sophia?”

“If her family would even agree to take you now that you are no longer royal blood,” Uncle Aurel responds quickly. I swallow hard. I suppose I should have expected that eventuality.

My entire planned future has slipped through my grasp in the last few hours.

My mother gets a calculating look in her eye, one that I’ve seen a hundred times before when she was dealing with my father.

“The Equal Marriage Act passed last year,” she points out. “It would mean a few royal rules would have to be changed but it is not illegal anymore.”

“Mom, you can’t be suggesting-” I splutter. In my mind’s eye I’m picturing those rumpled clothes and that scruffy hair. How could my mother even think that I would want to potentially pursue someone like that?

“Stop gawking like a fish, Leander. I know that you don’t keep your affairs strictly to women. If it was a possibility to reclaim the throne even as a consort, it should be considered,” My mother says.

I shut my mouth. This all seems ridiculous. They are clutching at straws. We have been so sure of our own power, that now we have no idea what to do to claw it back.

“I would oppose that most strongly. A Mediean on the throne will be there as a ruler, not as some- “

“I am aware of your thoughts on the matter, Aurel,” my mother cuts him off before he gets to finish whatever it was he was about to say. I am both immensely grateful and extremely embarrassed by it all.

“Our family is in trouble through your actions, Leander. For years we’ve allowed you to be spoiled, but now you’ve thrown all of our lives in jeopardy. It is time to decide the course of action like the leader of the nation, not a spoiled child.”

She is right. I know she is right. I run my hands through my hair, messing it, like that darned Bram brat’s no doubt.

“Fine. I’ll sleep on it and decide.”

Hopefully, someone more intelligent than me will come up with a plan while I sleep and save me.