Page 80 of Royal Pain

“No you.” I’m trying to buy time, but time or not, I’m going to give it one more try.

“Is it too late to change my mind?”

My stomach drops with the thought there’s a change of heart. “About our decision?”

“Yes. I know, I made the wrong choice. You just went along with me.”

“On one level that is true, but I know we’d only be happy choosing the life we want together. I would be satisfied remaining where I am, if it made you happy.”

“Satisfied isn’t good enough. I don’t want to settle for good. I think you and I have a real chance at great.”

Every cell in my body reacts to her declaration. I take her face in my hands and gaze into the blue.

“Really? You’re absolutely sure? They’ll be no going back, Belinda.”

Our smiles can’t be contained.

“I don’t want to go back. I never will, I promise you that. I’m prepared to give up my job and my apartment and everything I’ve known before, if it means we’re going to be together. I’ll find a new path forward with my writing. It’s clear to me now. You are meant to be the king.”

“I love you more than you’ll ever know. And I promise to always be mindful you take the journey with me.”

We come together in a gentle embrace, holding the treasure close.

“What time is it?” I suddenly realize the glaring flaw in the plan.

“Two thirty-five,” she says, looking at her phone.

“The queen’s address to the nation!”

Lowering the glass divide, I make the first royal command. “Change of plans. We need to go back to the house. Chudda, get ahold of my secretary. I’m going to need my Robe of State.” Just before the glass divide closes, he turns and looks at me. The wide smile and nod of his head says it all.

“I’ve got to stop my mother’s speech. Shit. The cameras are set up by now. She’s probably going over her notes.”

I tap on the queen’s private secretary’s name. He answers after one ring.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

It throws me. Only an anointed king is referred to in that way. When I hesitate in my response, he speaks.

“Her Majesty, the queen, anticipated your call, Prince Zan.”

My mother is the smartest woman I know.

* * *

Cameras are positioned facing the antique desk the queen sits at. Flanking her stand Kwai and myself, both of us in full military dress. It’s a uniform required, but I’m not comfortable with. My service to Mozia was never as soldier. My past as a child soldier in a murderous army negated any further time required in a valid one.

I was excused. And that was a great kindness. My psychological well-being was considered. But most Mozians must serve a term of two years upon their eighteenth birthday. Tarik did with valor, much to our parents’ pride. And even Kwai did his duty in an exemplary way. Becoming a helicopter pilot birthed a passion in him for flying, and a reputation as a good one.

The director signals for the cameras to start rolling and speaks to the queen.

“Your Majesty, we wait on your command.”

I straighten my sleeves and watch Kwai doing the same.

“Are you ready, son?”

“Yes, ma’am.”