Page 109 of American Royals II: Majesty

“You’re free to go pack up your things,” Beatrice repeated. “I’ll let the Undersecretary of the Household know that you’re leaving.”

“But—the wedding—”

“Is no longer your concern.”

Robert’s expression was ugly, and twisted with malice. “This country will never accept you ruling alone.”

“No,youwere the one who couldn’t accept me ruling alone,” Beatrice corrected. “I’m not sure what the country is going to think, but I’m willing to give them a chance.”

Robert opened his mouth—but drew to a halt at something in the Washington women’s expressions. “Very well, then.Your Majesty.” He spat her title with utter disdain and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Oh, Bee” was all Sam could say, as Beatrice threw her arms around her and held tight.

They stood like that for a while, clinging to each other with such force that Sam couldn’t have said which of them was leaning on the other. Maybe they both were. That was what you did with family, wasn’t it? You grabbed hold of them and didn’t let go. You supported each other’s weight, held each other up, even when you lacked the strength to stand on your own.

“How did you know to pull the alarm?” Beatrice’s question was barely a whisper.

“I guessed, when I saw you and Connor.” Sam pulled back a little, so she could look into her sister’s face. “It’s my fault that he came to the wedding. I’m the one who mailed his invitation.”

She felt Beatrice stiffen.

“I went into your office to talk to you one day, and when you weren’t there, I looked through your desk. Even the secret drawer that Dad used to hide candy in,” Sam confessed. “That was how I figured out that you’d been seeing Connor. I found his invitation and I just—sent it,” she said haltingly. “I’m so sorry.”

Beatrice considered her sister’s words for a long, drawn-out moment, and then she nodded. “Don’t be sorry, Sam. I’m not.”

She looked so painfully bridal right now. Her pair of veils fell in a cascade around her, the fine net of the tulle catching shadows like water. Yet she’d just called off the wedding of the century.

“So—are you and Connor back together?”

“I told him goodbye.” Beatrice glanced down, running her palms over her ethereal shimmering skirts. “Of course, I wish his timing had been better,” she went on, with something like humor. “But I can’t be angry with Connor for fighting for me. We have so much history.”

From the way she’d pronouncedhistory,Sam knew that Beatrice saw Connor as a figure who belonged to her past, and not her future. But…hadn’t she just called off her wedding to Teddy?

“I don’t understand,” Sam blurted out. “If you’re not choosing Teddy, then aren’t you choosing Connor?”

“I’m choosingme!”

When Beatrice turned, her eyes were lit up with a new, confident glow. Sam realized that in getting rid of Robert, Beatrice had shed a stifling and oppressive weight.

Now that she was free of him, she could step into her own power at last.

“I’m the queen. By definition, I’m different from the eleven kings who came before. But the moment I marry Teddy, I won’t be that woman anymore.”

“Even if you marry Teddy, you’ll still be queen,” Sam pointed out.

“I’ll be a queen with a king consort. Not a queen ruling on her own.” Beatrice sighed. “Dad always reminded me not to underestimate the power of symbolism. What kind of symbol would I be if the first thing I do as queen is get married?”

Her sister was right. There was little imagery as powerful as the Crown. And Beatrice, sitting on the throne, alone—that kind of image could make a real difference.

“Bee. You’re arebel,” she said, with an incredulous smile.

Beatrice shook her head. “I fell for someone who was in Mom and Dad’s binder of approved options. And, by the way, so did you,” she added. “That’s not especially rebellious.”

Sam felt a pang of regret at the reference to Marshall. “It doesn’t matter who Teddy is. What matters is that you’re choosingnotto marry him. You’re a runaway bride! I can’t wait for the made-for-TV adaptation of this,” she went on, trying to coax a smile from her sister. “As long as it doesn’t star Kelsey Brooke.”

“Runaway bride.” There was a note of fear in Beatrice’s voice, as if she’d only just processed the full extent of her decision.

Sam reached for her sister’s hand. “How can I help?”