Page 17 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)
Chapter Ten
Freya
Bonnie:
What if you do some kind of public space cleanup, like in a park or something?
Liam:
Livestream everything you do
Cole:
Attend a sporting event?
Liam:
And I mean EVERYTHING
Carissa:
You could invite local performers to do a concert or something wherever you go.
Hank:
Do a children’s book reading event.
Liam:
Oh I like Carissa’s idea do a concert
Kasey:
My idea was similar to Hank’s but with local storytellers sharing traditional stories from their area.
Bonnie:
You could also visit local businesses and see how their day-to-day lives go.
Liam:
Puppy parade with crowns to prove your adorable
Kasey:
*you’re
Liam:
Whatever
Cole:
Go fishing with locals and let them talk freely.
Liam:
Drinking contest with the local fishermen!
Derek:
Liam, that isn’t helping.
You need ways to sit down with the people and let them talk without your differences in station getting in the way. What about a Q&A meeting?
Freya:
I tried that, and it failed spectacularly, which is why I have come to all of you for help. Some of you are more helpful than others. Thank you for your ideas, but I should probably step away from my phone for a bit. Love you all!
Liam:
We have your back Peach even if you don’t like my ideas
I sigh and lock my phone, setting it on the seat next to me in the town car as I close my eyes. I had hoped to find solutions to my thus far disastrous campaign, but my friends, well-meaning as they are, are not close enough to the situation to understand why I am struggling.
In the hope of learning more about public opinion, I turned my planned speech in the town of Kirkstead this afternoon into a sort of town hall, opening the floor to questions.
The first woman who stood did not ask a question but instead complained about the disparity between the noble and the working classes, which led to each person afterward doing much the same.
Their complaints, however valid, raised the tension in the room until the church where we set up erupted into chaos, and the palace guards had to shepherd me from the building as the people chanted Grimstad’s name.
Elliot refused to remain in town longer than necessary, forgoing our stay in Kirkstead—and afternoon tea with a very put-out lord and lady—and making last-minute arrangements to spend an extra night in Windgaard where we are heading now.
He has been on edge ever since, sitting stiff and silent across from me as the royal cavalcade makes its slow trek over the moors to the eastern coast.
Before I decided to reach out to my friends in California, I perused the many news stories that have popped up in the hours since the disastrous event, and I have come to realize that it might be better if I avoid the internet when I can.
Not only has the tabloid site Hollywood Hot Scoop gotten wind of today’s adventure—I refuse to read their article, for my sanity—but all of Candora is talking about my blunder.
My attempts to fix my lack of knowledge have only put me further behind Grimstad’s popularity, and my heart is heavy.
“Everything okay?” Elliot keeps his voice quiet, but tension is clear in the clipped way he speaks.
I open my eyes to find him watching me with those keen eyes of his. He has been quiet today, more of a soldier than usual, and I have missed his snark. Strange, when it irritated me so much at first.
I gesture to my phone. “I hoped my friends would have ideas for how to proceed, but I fear they are ill-equipped to properly find solutions to my predicament.”
Elliot’s lips twitch up, likely because of my choices of words. I must sound entirely pretentious, though I feel anything but important. I have clearly failed my people for the whole of my life.
“Yeah,” he says, “well, we Americans aren’t always the smartest when it comes to politics.”
“This is less about politics and more about human connection,” I argue.
“I am certain the people of Kirkstead needed reassurance that they were being heard and their voices mattered, and I sat there in silence. I had no idea what to say.” When Elliot offers no response to that, I groan and drop my face in my hands.
“How can I be so terrible at something I have prepared for my entire life?”
“Campaigning? That’s what you’ve been training for?” When I glare at him, he chuckles and shakes his head. “No one said ruling a country was easy, Princess.”
“At this rate, I will rule nothing but my own life. If that.”
He hums and shifts in his seat, stretching his legs out a bit. “Hypothetically speaking, what happens to your family if someone other than an Alverra is elected to rule?”
Historically, this has never happened, so I do not blame him for wondering.
Even with my extensive knowledge of Candoran law, the hypothetical offers an unclear future.
“The election process has not always been in place,” I tell Elliot.
“It was instated only two centuries ago, when the House of Commons concluded that birthright can become dangerous when left unchecked, and they managed to sway enough lords to their side to pass the vote.
“The change in law never would have happened if the members of Commons had not chosen to propose the idea during the reign of a particularly selfish king who came close to bringing Candora to ruin with his greed. The elections have never gotten in the way of an heir taking the throne, but they have kept my ancestors in check.”
“Smart.” Elliot folds his arms and waits for me to continue.
“This is the part of the law that becomes uncertain. Should someone other than the Alverra heir be chosen by the people to rule, the constitution will change, adapting to a purely electoral monarchy. Much like your government, I suppose, but with longer terms. There will be no line of succession.”
“And your family?”
“We would remain among the nobility and have a seat in the House of Lords, maintaining our assets and some of our influence. But there is some question as to which assets belong to the crown and which belong to the Alverras. For example, my ancestors built the palace where I live, and yet half of the palace is dedicated to the government now. Does the building belong to those who have cared for it and made many cherished memories inside, or does it belong to the kingdom?”
And do we deserve to keep anything we have at all when we are simply the products of time and circumstance? That is a question I am afraid to ask out loud.
“So what you’re saying is everything will be simpler if you beat Grimstad?” Elliot’s eyebrows pull together as he studies me. “No pressure, then.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Yes, that would be simpler.”
“But?”
I should not say what is on my mind, but I do anyway.
“But maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe one of the reasons we are ‘out of touch’ with our people is because we have—” I pause when one of his eyebrows lifts ever so slightly.
“We’ve—become too ingrained in the monarchy itself.
” More thoughts start building in my mind, enough to make my heart beat against my ribs.
Thoughts I have never entertained. “What am I if not a princess?”
“I’m sure you’re—”
“It is no wonder I cannot connect with people when I am barely connected to myself. The only time I ever feel like more than just a political figure is when I…” Stopping again, I take a moment to consider what I was about to say.
“When you what?” Elliot asks. I highly doubt this is a conversation he was hoping to have, but I am grateful that he is willing to listen.
“When I am with my friends,” I finish with a frown.
Elliot purses his lips. “Your friends, the super famous celebrities and millionaires?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, those friends. While it is true they are well known, and most of them are wealthy, the heart of our friendship is knowing we are as human as anyone else. We keep each other…” How did Cole put it once?
“Grounded. Humble. Or, as humble as we can be, given our circumstances.” I add that last part because Elliot looks like he might laugh.
“You feel normal around them because they’re the only people who come close to your level of importance.” Elliot shifts in his seat again, glancing out the window as his fingers curl into fists. “You’re equals.”
“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask him.
“I’m fine.”
“You were equally restless this morning when we left Breckenholt, as well as during our travels yesterday.”
He grunts. “I don’t love facing backwards and not having an idea of where we’re going,” he admits in a mumble. “But I’m fine.”
Picking up my phone and the blazer I draped across the seat next to me, I gesture to the space I cleared. “You are welcome to sit here.”
He grimaces. “I don’t want to crowd your space.”
“I would not have offered it if I was not amenable to the idea.”
He snorts a small laugh, shaking his head at me. “You’re something else, Princess.”
I am going to assume his remark is related to my manner of speech and not anything else about me. “Please,” I say and gesture to the empty seat again. “If it would make you more comfortable, that would also put me at ease. If my bodyguard is nervous, how am I supposed to feel?”
He seems to debate for a moment, but then he slips over to the seat beside me and lets out a sigh as his gaze fixes out the window. “Thank you.”
Though I did not expect it, my body relaxes as soon as his does, and I cannot decide if it is because he was truly making me nervous or if I am starting to like having him close.
When things got out of hand at the church, he was right at my side, his arm wrapped around me in a way that made me certain nothing bad would happen to me.
“Thank you for protecting me at the meeting today, Elliot.”
His eyes drop to his knees, as if he is remembering the events of the afternoon. “I know today didn’t go like you hoped, but you’ll figure out what you’re doing.”
“How can you be sure?”