A Royal Renewal_The Royals of Heledia

by Victoria Hart

  “Well, no matter what,” I said, “the capital should be a center for learning and culture.”

  “I don’t disagree. The difference is America built its culture; it didn’t inherit it all in one piece. It’s a very new country as far as the history of the world is concerned, and had to build up its own mythology and legacy to match the empires of the world very quickly. Heledia is small, but we have a long history and even longer memory. We don’t need things that constantly remind us of what we are.”

  I nodded. This was how I was meant to rule. I needed to take advice and criticism where it was due. This was what it would be like to be advised.

  “But,” he said. “At the end of the day you will rule as you need to rule and do what needs to be done. I trust that much in you and believe in you for that.”

  “So I should or shouldn’t listen to you?” I dabbed mustard off my chin with a napkin.

  “You should hear me. Just like you should hear everyone else who is going to give you advice. But you should listen only to yourself, when it comes time for decisions. Understand?”

  I did understand. It was something I was going to understand and remember for a very long time to come.

  Chapter 3

  The whole family traveled to Heledia to see me settled. My mother wanted to make a vacation out of it, a family trip – the last time we would be together before my brother and I split off to go to different colleges and I moved to the country that would one day be in my charge. On the plane ride there, I found myself getting more and more nervous with each mile we gained across the vast Atlantic Ocean.

  “You act as though you’ve never been here before,” my mother said, chuckling at me as I tapped my foot relentlessly.

  “I’m entering into the country for entirely different reasons than I ever have before,” I said. “I’m coming here to train to rule these people. The people who are going to help us with our luggage at the airport and the people who drive the taxis that we’ll pass and the kids playing on the playground in the street – they’re all going to be depending on me.”

  “You’re not going to be queen tomorrow,” my mother said. “With any luck, that will be several decades from now. We want your aunt to live a long and healthy life, and you’ll be grown up and ready when the time comes for you to take up her crown – well, it’ll be your crown. They have this saying in your father’s family; you are not inheriting your aunt’s throne, she is simply keeping it warm for you. It was yours the day you were born. That’s what birthright is all about.”

  “It seems antiquated.”

  “Don’t let anyone in Heledia hear you talking that way.” She said this with such a warning edge in her voice that it made me feel nervous. It was the first time someone had ever hinted to me that something was not quite right in Heledia where the monarchy was concerned. Of course I knew there were people who didn’t approve of the monarchy, but I hadn’t thought it was that serious.

  But my mother’s face was pale and I felt my brow form furrows. I had butterflies in my stomach, which did not help with my overall agitation.

  “At least we’re both going to college in places that have good weather,” Benjamin said. “I love Washington but I’m excited about not having to deal with winter.”

  “You’ll still have to deal with winter,” my mother said, “when you come home for Christmas break – which you will absolutely be doing, no buts.”

  My brother shrugged and said something about working on a tan, and my father countered that he better focus on his studies instead. Ben rolled his eyes. He’d be the partying one who ended up with his picture in the tabloids, and we all knew it.

  “You’ll have quite a few days to relax,” Dad said. “We’re not jumping into anything right away. This is a vacation, after all. School doesn’t start for another two weeks.”

  He was right; I needed to put this out of my mind for a while, until it was time to deal it. My life was not ending and this scary new chapter wasn’t beginning right away, either. I was still with my family, still relaxing, still on summer vacation. Even world leaders-to-be got summer vacations and I would try to enjoy mine. Though my dad wouldn’t let me ask the flight attendant to bring me a cocktail, I could have some while we were at the palace. The drinking age in Europe was lower and I was expected to take wine and other drinks while I was mingling. It was part of being the queen.

  My brother would be learning how to do keg stands while I held wine in my hand that was more expensive than his entire week’s worth of groceries. I did envy him that, a bit. He was going to get to live a normal adult life. He was going to have to worry about getting groceries and feeding himself and maybe even paying bills, when he left the dorm room eventually for an apartment. I’d be chauffeured around, going home every night to my own apartment in the palace. I’d be fed whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it, at all hours.

  I was never going to get to learn how to be a regular adult and do regular adult things. I was never going to experience the ordinary hardships of my generation. I felt like I missing out on all that, and I knew nobody was going to feel bad for me. But I wondered if it was going to make it difficult for me to empathize with others, to be able to relate to what they were feeling and going through.

  My mother always said the reason that certain politicians weren’t good at making laws or helping people was because they couldn’t understand the common people they were meant to be helping. She said that they were born rich and lived rich and would die rich, and they just didn’t get it. Her father, my grandfather, had grown up in a middle class family and worked to make a name for himself in Washington. She said he understood what it was like to work for things.

  I wanted to be the same way. My family wasn’t exactly middle class, but like my father said, I’d grown up more normal than most leaders before me ever had. I had my own version of Abraham Lincoln’s log cabin way of living. It wasn’t rags to riches, but it was a start. I was afraid that base would fade, now that I was going to be bowed to constantly, and waited on hand and foot. I didn’t know what it was going to be like to live in a palace, or how it would change me.

  Would I forget myself too?

  We were less than an hour away from the airport now and our captain said over the loudspeaker to take a seat and get ready to land soon. This would be it, this would be the day my life would take a different turn, and it would begin as soon as I stepped off the private jet. It was strange to think how everything changes at a particular point in time. If this was a movie there would be dramatic music playing in the lead up to this moment. But all I had was anxiety. I just felt scared.

  That’s probably how the people in movies would feel, if they were real. They wouldn’t hear the music around them or know that thousands of people were watching their story through artsy camera angles and perfect lighting. So I imagined myself a hero in a story who had no idea it was happening. Movies made things look so simple, with montages and quick training sequences. Living it out would be much harder.

  “We’re starting our final descent. Crew, please prepare the cabin for arrival,” the captain said over the speaker, and I felt the butterflies double in number.

  We got off the plane. There were plenty of people waiting, plenty of people ready to bow to us and take pictures. That was the reason my mom wouldn’t let me wear sweatpants and an old Capitals t-shirt on the plane. I had to dress to impress, because everything I did from this point on would be scrutinized. This was my chance to make a good first impression. I needed to look regal and composed getting off a nine-hour flight, not worn out and frazzled, and certainly not like a teenager who’d had her headphones in the entire time and listened to the newest pop hit station on Spotify.

  I stepped out of the plane with my back straight, my hand held high in a wave. I twisted my wrist expertly to get the effect of waving to them, but tastefully. Being a queen was all about subtlety and grace. Keeping everything small and contained was a good way to look composed. It was a good
way to hide your fears and weaknesses.

  I stepped down the stairs and was relieved that I didn’t fall on my face in front of everyone. My legs were shaking, my palms were sweaty against the railing, but I still managed to make my way down to the ground without slipping. I thought about what my mother had said, about people thinking the monarchy of Heledia was outdated. I wouldn’t give them a chance to think there was anything wrong with what we were doing, or how we were doing it. It was fascinating that the future of a government was going to hinge on my ability to make a good impression and walk down some stairs – but that was the way politics worked.

  I completed the first trial, ran the first gauntlet. Things were not going to get easier, but with each test I faced I would become stronger and more capable. I thought of shows I watched growing up, Buffy, and Kim Possible, and reading Supergirl comics. They were all powerful women who rose to challenges that changed and escalated all around them.

  I could – and would – do the same. I was born to be a queen and everyone would remember that by the time I was done here.

  * * *

  We all had our own permanent rooms in the palace’s residential wing, and had since Benjamin and I were barely old enough to walk. I’d be moving from there, however, to a larger space, which was presently being renovated. They were painting, installing new furniture and new electronics like a larger television, and better wifi. All to make it nicer for me while I spent the next four years in school.

  I was going to have resources that many of my peers could never dream of. Again, I had that nagging feeling that I was living too far above the people, too far away to really understand them. It was eating at me – you can not rule effectively if you don’t know your subjects.

  “I swear, you get bigger every time I see you,” said a familiar voice, and my face split into a grin.

  “I stopped growing in the eighth grade,” I said turning, smiling at Antonio. Aunt Sonia had not been immediately able to receive us; she was in a meeting with some foreign ambassadors.

  He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just so impressed to see the adult you’ve become, it’s like a surprise every time.”

  I moved forward to hug him tightly. He and my aunt were so good together, I hoped one day to have a marriage like theirs. They clearly adored each other.

  It was beautiful, but something else that made me wary and fearful of what was to come. My aunt, the queen, had almost not been allowed to marry Antonio, but she had been very popular with the people. Her supporters had risen up and demanded she be given the chance to be happy, and so she had gone ahead and changed the law. But some said there shouldn’t be a monarchy at all – what was the point, if people weren’t of “royal blood”? Even traditionalists grumbled that the marriage was unacceptable. We would never know if their children would have been accepted, because sadly, there hadn’t been any. And so here I was, and my mother was an ordinary American citizen.

  “How was the trip?” he asked as we walked together down the hall. Even as tired as I was, I’d been too restless to sit in my room.

  “It was long and boring, but I can’t complain when we’re given a private jet with no strangers or screaming kids,” I said. We’d taken public transportation for a vacation once, at my insistence, to see what it was like. It had been a nightmare, but at least I knew now how awful travel was for people who didn’t have their own flight crew and plane.

  “The view at landing isn’t bad either,” he said. “I have yet to find a place more beautiful than Heledia, and I’ve studied in many places.”

  Antonio was violin maker and renowned around Europe for his ability to craft custom violins. He was often called to other countries to build people the perfect instrument, or repair instruments in time for big concerts. He was something of a living legend in that field. Though I didn’t play, he’d given me my own violin once on a birthday, and I kept it in a place of honor in my bedroom. It had beautiful carvings across the face of it, and its graceful shape made it a pleasure to look at.

  We walked out into the downstairs and towards the gardens.

  “Have you been preparing?” he asked. “School is no joke, especially for someone like you.”

  “I’ve been trying to,” I said. “There’s more than school to prepare for.”

  “Hmmm,” he agreed.

  “My father and I…” I bit my lip and wondered if Antonio was the best person to talk to about this. “We went out, around Washington, to look at the monuments and the museums. We were talking about this place, about me being queen.”

  “And?” he asked with a smile.

  “I’m afraid I won’t live up to expectations, that I’ll ruin things. Dad and I were talking about Abe Lincoln – he was the 16th president of the U.S. He was born in a log cabin and barely educated, but he changed the country and the world forever, and I was wondering if I could ever do something like that. And my father said that I was different than most leaders because I’ve lived a normal life – or as normal as could be managed – and that would help me understand the common people. But I’m afraid I won’t understand them at all, and I won't be able to help them.”

  Antonio was watching me calmly. We’d stopped walking at some point and he turned to me with his arms folded over his chest and a knowing look on his face. “The fact that these things scare you – that they’re so important to you, and you’re thinking about them – that’s what you should focus on. You want to be good at your job, and you want to help people. That’s more important than anything else. It’s our choices that matter, not what we think or don’t think we can do.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed as if he could inject me with all the courage I needed. It did give me some. Antonio wasn’t related to me by blood, but he was truly family, and his support meant everything.

  I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to say a word. So instead we turned and continued our walk out to the gardens.

  “I know you’re afraid we all have high expectations of you,” he said. “But what’s important is what you expect of yourself.”

  The problem was I expected a whole lot from myself. But I nodded. We moved to sit down on my favorite stone bench in the hedge maze part of the garden. When I was a child it had always been a place of wonder and fear for me, to sit near the hedge maze and worry about getting lost in it. Once, Ben and I had snuck out at night and went to the entrance to look in and dare each other to enter it.

  It had been a game of ours, to try to scare each other in the palace. There were all sorts of ghost stories and the old rectory on the grounds didn’t help matters. My mother said our aunt had taken her there once when she was younger and visiting the palace and it had been a rather scary time. She said it had also been a very poignant time as they tried to come to terms with death and ghosts after my grandfather died.

  “I expect a lot of myself,” I said. “Which makes it very easy for me to let myself down.”

  “Well, that’s common and, believe it or not, a good thing,” he said. “If you succeed at every goal you set, you know that you’ve made things far too easy on yourself.”

  “If goals are unattainable, then what’s the point?” I asked.

  “The point is that we’re constantly striving. Success isn’t about achieving and resting. No matter if they’re a baker or a queen, successful people constantly try to get at something, and they never get too comfortable,” he said. “Some people are more uncomfortable than others, and that’s the point. Everyone has their own journey. The true test of character is how you’re able to deal with either situation, and what you choose to do.”

  “Did you have all this life advice stuff prepared before I got here?” I asked.

  “If we’re being honest and you don’t tell him that I told you,” Antonio said in a low voice, “your father may have shared some of those doubts you’re feeling. He didn’t do it so I would talk to you but I’ve been meaning to have a chat. My next one will be with your brother, on the importance of
not making a fool of himself in school.”

  I laughed and felt myself relax. Antonio always had a way of making me feel better about myself. Even when I was in turmoil he was there, and for that I was glad that my aunt fell in love with him in that bar all those years ago. I also hoped I would be so lucky, someday.

  * * *

  The next night, a dinner party was thrown in our honor. It was a very important evening; during the meal and the reception afterward I would meet many important people. Aunt Sonia gave me a quick rundown on who would be present, and suggested I try to remember as many names as I could.

  “You’ll be accompanied,” she explained, brushing a silky strand of blonde hair behind her ear and pushing papers into a stack on her desk. She seemed tense, not as happy and easygoing as I remembered. I assumed it was because we were talking business. “Philip will be nearby. If at any time you feel awkward or overwhelmed – for instance if a guest should press you for your opinion on state matters, or act in any way you feel is inappropriate – make eye contact with him. Any small gesture will alert him, and he will come forward.”

  “Philip is the tall man? Or the…”

  “The wide man.” Finally, Sonia smiled, but weakly. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine; just be sure to stay in the dining room, the ballroom, or the main part of the garden, inside the lights.”

  The dinner had gone well enough, and we had left the dining room to mingle – politicians, dignitaries, lobbyists, royalty, and aristocracy. My head was swimming, and I had only pretended to sip my wine.

  “Hello,” said a voice I did not recognize. I turned and saw the crown of the head of a man bowing to me. When he looked up, I was startled to see the most handsome man, ever. I felt like my tongue had suddenly grown to twice its normal size. “My name is Carlo,” he said.

  He had a dazzling smile, tanned skin, and deep brown hair in glorious waves. He stood tall and had broad shoulders, and he was everything you’d expect in a man – in a fairy tale.