Page 57 of Reign

It was nice, though, knowing that another family member finally understood the burden she carried. She had to grapple with the weight of so many things: America’s past, its present, its future.

A future that might not include her.

“I have a whole new appreciation for you after being your Regent.” Jeff lifted his glass in her direction. “You make the toughest job in the world look easy.”

Beatrice gave a wry smile. “There’s nothing easy about it, is there? But you did a fantastic job covering for me. Thank you,” she added.

“I should say, it wasn’tallbad. I loved getting to meet so many people.” Jeff hesitated before saying, “It was nice, feeling like I actually made a difference for a change.”

“You’ve always made a difference!”

Jeff shot her a glance, and she fell silent, well aware what he’d meant. As the third in line to rule, Jeff had occupied a uniquely relaxed and uncontroversial position—until now.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You’re right, we didn’t give you the opportunity to make much of a difference before.”

“To be fair, that was Mom and Dad’s decision, not yours. Also, the jobs I had were really fun ones. I don’t want to give those away.”

“Like when you parachuted into the Super Bowl halftime show?”

“That was for charity!” Jeff protested. “But, yes, I like doing those things—raising awareness for causes, building connections where we need goodwill. I just don’t want them to be theonlythings I do.”

“What are you thinking, then?”

Jeff seemed nervous as he replied, “Once I’m done with school, I want to serve in the military.”

He kept talking, explaining how he felt called to give back in some way—how he dreamed of flying the attack helicopters used in specialized operations—but Beatrice cut him off.

“You realize it would require a full press blackout, if we wanted to keep you safe.”

“We could negotiate that,” Jeff insisted.

“What does Daphne think?” Something about the look on her brother’s face made Beatrice pause. “Jeff. Do you still want to get married?”

He stared down into his whiskey. “I can’t imagine losingDaphne. She’s always been there for me when I needed her, especially over the past few months.”

It wasn’t a direct answer, but Beatrice didn’t press him. She knew that feeling well—the need to cling to something, or someone, constant, when the world was changing all around you.

“So, what are you going to do about Madison?” Jeff asked, after a beat. “I got the sense that he’s going to move forward with or without my help.”

“You think he’s already gathering votes against me?”

“He’ll request a vote for your removal in the new year. I think he knows about your memory loss, or at least he suspects.”

And if Madison found proof that she hadhiddenher memory loss, he could argue that she was deceiving her subjects.

“The only good thing in all of this is that he talked to me first. He revealed his hand too early. Now you know what he’s planning,” Jeff pointed out.

“But what should I do?”

“Go on the attack, right? If Madison is gathering senators to support his bill, then you have to find senators who will vote against it.”

Beatrice nodded slowly. As the monarch, she wasn’t traditionally meant to engage in campaigning or politicking; that was for Congress or elected officials.

Maybe it was time she stopped worrying about what she was meant to do, and focused on what sheneededto do.

Beatrice reached for her phone, newly galvanized to action, and pulled up the list of senators—she used to think she knew it by heart, but there’d been some changes over the past year, and she could use a visual aid. Jeff came to stand behind her, bracing his hands on the back of her chair as he studied it with her.

“Madison will get most of the Old Guard,” Beatrice mused aloud.