Page 41 of The Unlikely Heir

I learned how, according to legend, tea was discovered by Emperor Shen Nung of China when the wind blew the leaves from a wild tree into a pot of boiling water and how the Portuguese princess Catherine of Braganza introduced it to Britain after she married King Charles II. Callum also shared with me how iced tea was invented at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, where an enterprising merchant realized the heat wave would mean no one would be interested in the free samples of hot tea he’d planned to give out, so he dumped a whole lot of ice into the tea instead.

And somehow, we moved on from discussing the history to a competition for who could find the worst tea jokes on the internet.

How do you ask a dinosaur to dinner?

Tea, Rex?

What drink brings you down to earth?

Gravi-Tea.

If someone hacked into Callum and my message chain, they would find plenty of things to make them roll their eyes, but nothing remotely scandalous.

But despite how innocent our conversations are, I can’t deny they are becoming more and more frequent.

I rub a hand over the stubble on my chin. If I’m so convinced I’m not doing anything wrong, why don’t I just tell Toby why I’ve been up so late?

I take a deep breath.

“You ready to head to the cabinet meeting?” Bernard pokes his head in my office’s door.

I let out my breath. “Ready.”

It’s one thing to talk to Toby about my friendship with Callum. It’s completely different to talk about him with my other colleagues. Callum is already being picked apart by the British media and public. I don’t want to add scrutiny from the highest level of government as well.

It’s a typical cabinet meeting, with reports from each department, a rundown of current events, and the inevitable debates that follow.

Yasha Ingles, my Chancellor of the Exchequer, lays out their draft tax reform proposal, triggering an intense debate.

“We risk stifling innovation and growth for small businesses,” Rosalia argues.

“We need to ensure corporations pay their fair share to support the infrastructure and social services. It’s ridiculous that they profit from the system without contributing their fair share,” Yasha replies.

The debate goes round and round, with half of the cabinet piping in with their own opinions.

In the end, Yasha grudgingly concedes to take the proposal back to the tax working group to look at inserting provisions to protect small businesses.

“Right, on to the next item on the agenda, the fallout from the scandal with the monarchy,” Toby says.

“What’s the latest polling showing?” Rosalia asks.

“Seventy percent approval of the queen. The public likes the decisive way she’s dealt with her family. How she’s put service to the country ahead of everything,” Toby answers.

I can’t imagine what it has cost the queen to cut off a large portion of her family. She’s been distracted and tired at our weekly meetings, and I’ve tried to keep things short and not weigh her down with anything extra.

“What’s the public sentiment on Prince Callum?” Cornelia asks.

I stiffen.

“Currently, forty-three percent have a favorable view, thirty-four percent have an unfavorable view, and twenty-seven percent are unsure.

“It’s pretty obvious he’s not ready for the spotlight yet,” Alfred says.

My skin prickles, and I want to snap that Callum’s doing the best he can. That anyone would struggle if they’d been put in his situation.

“But they need to keep him in the headlines. They need the focus to be on him rather than the behavior of his relatives,” Rosalia says.

“True. But the problem is, once the press starts a narrative on someone, it’s difficult to change it. The palace is walking a fine line between keeping Callum in the headlines and turning him into the butt of everyone’s jokes.”