I run into Prince Gareth first thing in the morning. I don’t know why, but when I’m in his embrace I feel a bit safer already. Guess all this assassination is getting to me more than I let on.

“You look beautiful as always, Jenny.” He says as he lets me go.

“Nonsense. These bruises have yet to heal.” I gesture to my hands.

He kisses my hands gently. “They can never do damage to your beauty, princess.”

I pout. It will leave scars. “I’ll look like a boxer.”

“Or a fighter. The queen we deserve.”

I shake my head. “Haven’t you heard? Brandon took my place as the next sovereign instead.”

“A simple perspective can do wonder, princess.” Prince Gareth smiles knowingly.

“You’re poetic today, aren’t you Prince Gareth?”

Prince Gareth opens his mouth, but Uncle Isaac’s voice drowns his.

“Dear! Here you are.”

Prince Gareth turns to him and smiles. “Here I am. Good morning, Isaac.” He leans to give my uncle a little peck.

Uncle Isaac turns his gaze to me. “Jenny! Have you had breakfast?”

I curtsy. “You two go on, I’m having tea in the garden with Brandon.”

“Fancy! Okay, um, have fun.” He looks at me as is he has something to say, but decides to leave it. Prince Gareth, though, takes this time to speak.

“I’m truly sorry for the inappropriate things my son has done to you, princess.”

“No, not at all! We met an understanding. If anything, it only brings our families a little closer, don’t you think?”

Prince Gareth smiles warmly. “I’d like that very much, Jenny. You’re such a sweetheart. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I give him a genuine smile before turning around to meet my newfound cousin.

^^^

“How does it feel like, to be stripped off of your title?”

I stare hard at Brandon, controlling my expression. “I am here to congratulate you, Brandon.”

“Crown Prince Brandon, please.”

He seems ... overwhelmed. Not in a good way.

“How does it feel to anticipate the crown?”

“Oh, it couldn’t get better. But you would know, wouldn’t you? Until last week, it was you in my shoes.”

“Uncle Isaac is perfectly healthy. Possibly a good fifty years before he passes away, maybe longer. I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.” I conveniently leave out one small important detail that while Uncle Isaac’s body is indeed perfectly healthy, his mind’s not. That Dr. Rowan, his psychiatrist, strongly advises him to step down the throne as soon as possible.

Brandon looks shocked. I knew it.

“Just because you reach eligible age doesn’t mean you would have your coronation right away. I’m twenty years, Brandon, and still a crown princess when you came.”

“That ... That ... I’m sure my dad can change the law, right? He’s the king, after all.”

Yet he didn’t get to keep the crown for the heir he wanted.

“This is a constitutional monarchy, Brandon. The sovereign holds only significant amount of power, not absolute.” I purposely use difficult words to gag his reaction.

Interesting ... Brandon looks well confused.

“Who gave you this idea, anyway? That you can have Primavara under your little thumb? You were just a farm boy.”

“Yeah, well, I was never just a farm boy! I am a Paisley; I’m destined for greater good.” If I haven’t been so sure if somebody’s putting words in his mouth, now I definitely am. And obviously it’s not Paige.

“Like what?”

“Like ... uh, like, world peace and global warning.”

“Warming.”

“What do you mean, warming? You’re mocking me, aren’t you? That’s silly. Why should we stop the earth from getting warmer? The snow is what’s killing us!”

Careful, Brand. Your farm-boy self is showing. “Do you even know who your mother is?”

“Does is matter? She abandoned me.”

“So did Uncle Isaac.”

“I ... I’m willing to give him a chance.”

“They didn’t.”

“What?”

“Never mind. It’s not really my place to say anyway.”

Darn, it’s not getting anywhere. I steal a glance at my watch. I only have half an hour before meeting Kevyn.

“Then ... any idea who wrote that anonymous letter to you?” Maintaining my posh posture, I cross my fingers under the table.

“You .... You knew?” Brandon looks taken aback.

Checkmate.

^^^

I’m not surprised that Kevyn doesn’t seem too bothered by the chandelier accident. He must have had his shares as well. He’s a crown prince, after all. A title I shared with until just recently.

I’m more surprised that the fact that I'm no longer a crown princess is not the first thing he talks about.

“It’s nice to see you up and about. How is Prince Napoleon?”

“Oh, he’s well enough to go home, too.”

His usual composed demeanor falters a little when he inquires, “Word on the street is you got awfully close within days.”

“Wouldn’t you, if he saved you from a falling chandelier?” I jest.

“For all I know, his heroic act might as well be a part of the plan.”

I mean, I considered it. “I trust him.”

“Well, I would suggest not to. Not this fast, at least. He is a Hamthor, after all.”

Yeah, no. Not going to have this conversation again.

“Have you met the new crown prince?” I feel like he’s all I talk about these days. But I need to know whether or not my concern is personal.

“I have.” Kevyn shoots me a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid I am not impressed.”

“Neither am I. It looks like the council thinks otherwise.”

“Shame.” Kevyn shakes his head. “You would have been the perfect queen for Primavara.”

“Are we still on with this ... arrangement, then?”

Kevyn looks perplexed. “You will still be a perfect queen for Wondera.”

“And what of your parents?”

“Worry not, Jenny, they have nothing against you. With or without Brandon, you’re still a royal, not some commoner he is. It would still be an honour for us to marry the princess of Primavara.”

“That is nice of you to say. Thank you, Kevyn.”

“Anytime, my queen.” He kisses my hand softly. “If anything, I just have to endure a much tighter competition, now that you don’t have a crown in your future.”

“It excites you, no?”

Kevyn’s eyes glint mischievously. “Oh, that it does.”

^^^

Can I still confide in you, Jenny?

I remember the first thing Uncle Isaac asked me when we’re alone yesterday, a little frustration in his eyes. There’s a lot of uncle’s histories that we don’t share with Anne, and we’d like to keep it that way. She’s been the mum in our so-called family, and the very least we can do is not adding this crown to her responsibilities.

Remember how I basically cut my life off right after your parents’ death? I threw away Ed, my art degree, my youth and my whole future. I knew it wouldn’t help me being a better regent or dad to a four-years-old orphaned crown princess. I knew, even then, I still wasn’t cut out for the crown. And it’s killing me, pulling me fast into the darkness.

July was my ... beacon.

She’s been a good friend since forever, but that night ... I was so vurnerable and scared and lost and fed up and, and she said all the right things and I just—

Uncle, stop. Everybody makes mistakes, and she just happened to be yours. Please, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.

I remember his tears rolling down his face. His sobs, uncontrollable. I remember how his voice cracked and his eyes, frantic. And I remember how it sucked not being able to be there for him when it mattered most, how it’s eating me even now.

No, let me, Jenny. I owe you at least this.

King Max ordered July to do an abortion, but I begged him to at least let the child live. In return, I was to never see the child again.

I realized too late that July, too, was sworn the same thing. He sighs. I realized too late that it’s the worse thing, Jenny, to look into your child’s eyes and see a complete stranger.

So, crown aside, are you thinking of mending things with him?

If he ever forgive me, Jenny. I’m sorry that it looked like I’m trying to shift the responsibility to you. I just trust you’re capable, Jenny, that’s all.

It’s really okay, Uncle. And I’m sure I was as much of a brat as he is in my younger years.

Have I told you? Uncle Isaac’s laughter is simply healing. Your words, not mine! It’s a bit far fetched, though .... But I have a feeling that Edmund had something to do with all this mess. Things did get ugly when I left him, after all.

Kevyn’s dad, huh? I get that he’s your, uh, ex, but he’s a bit meek. I don’t know if he could pull something like this. But then again, I don’t know him that well.

I’ll talk to him. Just, watch out for Kevyn, okay?

Yeah, he’s too posh to read (nothing to report back) or to get his hands dirty (nothing to watch out).