“Enjoy the time we have left,” she finishes softly.

My finger traces the bridge of her nose.

“That’s right.”

I wait outside the Queen’s office. Her secretary, Christopher, told me she can’t possibly see me today, but I wait anyway. Because I have to—I have to try.

When she walks into the room, brisk and efficient, I say, “I need to speak with you.”

She doesn’t even look at me.

“It’s important.”

She walks past me toward her office door.

“Your Majesty, please!”

Finally, she stops and turns her head. Her lips purse, looking me over. And that Christopher guy must have mental telepathy, because without a word, when the Queen proceeds into her office, he raises his arm and leads me in behind her.

I don’t know how long she’ll let me speak, so as soon as the door closes, I start right in.

“Nicholas needs more time.”

Her words are clipped and dismissive. “Time will not make this better.”

“He’s not ready.”

She walks behind her desk, scanning the papers there. “Of course he is. He was born for this—quite literally.”

“He doesn’t want this.”

“But he’ll do it. Because he is honorable and it is his duty.”

“I love him!”

That makes her stop. Her hand pauses over a piece of paper, and her face slowly lifts, meeting my eyes.

And then, the Queen’s expression goes softer—the lines around her mouth and eyes smooth out, making her look gentler. Like the grandma she’s supposed to be.

“Yes, I believe you do. He loves you too, you know. When he looks at you…His father used to look at his mother the same way—like she was the Eighth Wonder of the World. These last months, Nicholas has reminded me so much of his father, at times it’s been almost as if my son were standing right there.”

She gestures to the sofa near the fireplace. “Sit.”

I do, carefully, while she takes a cushioned chair, facing me. “I had a second child, after Thomas—a daughter. Did Nicholas ever tell you that?”

“No,” I answer, all of the righteous heat leaching out of me.

“She was a sickly, beautiful creature. Born with a heart condition. We brought in all the specialists, doctors from all over the world. Edward was out of his mind with grief. And I would have given up my crown to save her…but there was nothing to be done. They told me she wouldn’t last a month. She survived for six.”

She seems lost for a moment, in the memory. Then her gray eyes blink out of the reverie. Her gaze falls back to the present—back to me.

“That is when I learned that hope is cruel. A pitiless gift. Honesty, finality, may seem brutal—but in the end, it’s mercy.” And then her voice turns to steel. “There is no hope for a future between you and my grandson. None. You need to accept that.”

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“You must. The law is clear.”

“But you could change the law. You could do that for us—for him.”

“No, I cannot.”

“You’re the Queen!”

“Yes, that’s right, and your country has a president. And what would happen if your president announced tomorrow that elections would be held every eight years instead of every four? What would your government do? What would your people do?”

I open my mouth…but nothing comes out.

“Change takes time and requires will, Olivia—there is no will in Wessco for this kind of change. And even if there were, now is not the time. Even monarchs are bound by the law. I am not God.”

“No,” I bite out, on the verge of totally losing it. “You’re a monster. How can you do this to him? How can you know how he feels about me and make him do this?”

She turns to the window, looking out. “A mother burying her child is the only thing that could make one truly long for death—if only for the sliver of hope that she might glimpse her child again. Thomas got me through it the first time. Because I knew he needed me. And when I had to bury him and Calista, it was Nicholas and Henry who pulled me through, because they needed me even more. So, if you wish to think of me as a monster, that is your right. Perhaps I am. But believe me when I tell you, there is nothing—nothing—I would not do for those boys.”

“Except let them live their lives. Let them marry who they want.”

She scoffs at me, shaking her head. “If I am a monster, then you are a naïve, selfish girl.”

“Because I love Nicholas? Because I want to be with him and make him happy—that makes me selfish?”

She lifts her chin like a professor in a lecture hall. “You are common—and I don’t say that as a criticism. Commoners look at the world through the lens of a single lifetime. In a hundred years, no one will remember your name. You are as indistinguishable as grains of sand on the beach.

“Monarchs see the world through the prism of legacy. Ask Nicholas; he’ll tell you the same. What will we leave behind? How will we be remembered? Because whether we are reviled or revered—we will be remembered. Nicholas is a leader. Men are dedicated to him, they follow him naturally, you must see it.”

I think of Logan and Tommy and James—the way they protected Nicholas. Not only because it was their job, but because they wanted to.

“When he is King he will better the lives of tens of millions of people. He will lead our country into a new age. He could literally change the world, Olivia. And you would deprive them of him—for what? A few decades of your own happiness? Yes, child—in my book, that makes you selfish.”