Next in Line

by Vanessa Acton

  “It’s stressful, isn’t it? Draining. All those people watching you, demanding that you put on a good show. You don’t like putting on a show, do you, Charlotte? You prefer substance. And you’ll never find that here. Maybe you should follow your father’s example.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Arthur raised his eyebrows dramatically. “He renounced his claim to the throne. Gave up his place in the line of succession. Because he didn’t have what it takes to fill the role. And he knew it. He would’ve taken you out of the running too, if that had been allowed.”

  “That’s a lie!” The words came out as a shout. She couldn’t force herself to sound calm and collected and mature anymore. “You’re lying. I’ve researched the family history. I saw all the headlines about my dad marrying my mom, about them living in the States, about his death. I would’ve known if he’d given up his place in the line of succession.”

  Arthur let out a short, bitter laugh. “No, you wouldn’t, because the press never knew. The public never knew. He did it right before he died. Literally turned in the paperwork and keeled over from the heart attack.”

  Carly clenched her fists. “Don’t talk about that like it’s a joke.”

  “Your father was a joke. He was pathetic. Weak. Just like you.”

  For the first time, Carly understood why someone would want to punch another person in the face.

  It was so tempting. But she also knew in the back of her mind that this was what he wanted. To provoke her. To bring her down to his level.

  So she didn’t punch him.

  But she did pin him against the wall so fast and so forcefully that she heard the breath wheeze out of him. His eyes got huge and round. His mouth opened and closed like a fish’s.

  “Don’t. You. Ever. Insult my family. Again.”

  He managed a tiny nod. She let him go and backed off.

  “Why do you keep baiting me?” she demanded. “Why do you want my life? Because I can’t imagine why you would, if you think it’s so smothering and miserable.”

  Arthur’s face twisted. “I’d be better at it than you. My father would’ve been a wonderful king, if he’d had a chance. If he hadn’t been the younger son. Or if your father had died before you were born, my father would’ve been Frederick’s heir instead of you. He deserved it. He deserved to be king. Everything would’ve been different.” He drew in a breath, steadying himself. “And if people actually had to take me seriously, I’d be the best king this country’s ever seen!”

  Carly felt the sharpest edges of her anger fade. She could almost pity her cousin. He so obviously felt cheated out of something important—and he had been. He was just wrong about what it was. “Maybe if you tried being a decent person first, people would choose to take you seriously. Ever thought about that?”

  She turned and left without waiting for him to respond.

  ***

  Seton caught up to her as she charged down the hallway. He’d been right behind her on the stairs, like always. He must’ve seen the whole thing happen.

  “Good thing you’re not Arthur’s bodyguard, huh?” she said to him through clenched teeth.

  “A very good thing, your highness,” Seton responded quietly.

  Carly reached the door that led to her rooms. “I’m gonna be in here for a while, okay?” she said as she opened the door. “Can you tell my grandfather that I’m not feeling well and I can’t make it to dinner?”

  “I’ll tell him, your highness. And I’ll be waiting out here in case you change your mind.”

  “Thanks.” Carly closed the door in his face.

  Then she called her mom.

  “Hey, sweetie! How are—”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about my dad?” Carly’s voice was ragged. She was finally crying, after weeks of wanting to. “Why didn’t you tell me that he gave up his place in the line of succession?”

  “I—Oh, honey. Who told you about that?”

  “It doesn’t matter who told me! You should’ve told me! You should’ve told me he wasn’t actually a prince, he chose not to be a prince, and I don’t have to be a princess!”

  “Carly, what’s going on? I thought you were excited for this opportunity. That’s why I didn’t object to you going over there. What’s changed?”

  “Everything!” Carly hated how melodramatic she sounded, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been holding everything in for too long. “I thought I was following in my dad’s footsteps. I thought he’d be proud of me for doing this. But he didn’t want this! For himself or for me! And neither do I!”

  Before her mom could respond, she ended the call and flung her phone onto her bed.

  ***

  It wasn’t actually that hard to give Seton the slip. First Carly changed into jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed her wallet. Then all she had to do was turn on some music at full blast, climb down the trellis beside her balcony, and walk through the estate’s front gate.

  As she set off on the road to town, she actually wished it was farther away. She wished she could keep walking forever.

  11

  The ice cream shop in Alaborn was tucked into a narrow alley. Only a simple wooden sign hung over the door. Café Glace, Est. 1782. Inside, the place was full of tourists, but none of them seemed to recognize Carly. It was easier to blend in without a bodyguard, a dignified grandfather, and a car with a chauffeur.

  As she stood in line to order, her phone buzzed. Her mom was trying to call her on the messenger app. Carly turned her phone off.

  Once she had her ice cream, she went outside and stood in the alley, away from the crowds of people. She didn’t feel any better. She felt like a child—like a coward. But at least the ice cream was good.

  It took another half hour for Seton to track her down. When she saw him walk into the alley, she sighed.

  “Are you here to kidnap me?”

  “In a sense,” said Seton. He glanced up at the sign above the shop door. “But first, what flavor do you recommend?”

  “I just had the chocolate. It’s really good, but I don’t know what flavors you’re into. You seem like more of a vanilla guy.”

  Seton shrugged. “I don’t often indulge in ice cream.”

  “Shocking.” Carly joined him in line. “I haven’t gotten you in trouble with my grandfather, have I?”

  “Me? No. Yourself, yes.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay with that. At least I haven’t set anything on fire.”

  “As far as I know,” Seton said sarcastically.

  Carly snorted slightly. Even if everything about this day was miserable, at least she’d heard Seton crack a joke. Then she thought of her cousin and his rampages again. “You know, I kind of feel sorry for Arthur, up to a point. His dad died . . .”

  “So did yours.”

  “Yeah, but I was too little to know what had happened. Too little to remember him. And I have an awesome stepdad. Not to mention an awesome mom. It doesn’t seem like Lady Corinne is very close to Arthur. And he doesn’t have siblings either. So in a way, he’s really alone.”

  “As you know, he has a large extended family.”

  “Yeah, and as you know, they don’t act like a family most of the time.” Carly shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s an excuse for the way he treats other people. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t switch places with him. Or at least—I wouldn’t switch lives with him.”

  “Good,” said Seton. “Because I’m supposed to get you back to Mortmain Castle by sundown.”

  Two minutes later they were in Lord G’s car. Seton sat in the back with Carly instead of up front with the driver. Carly smiled slightly as she watched him nibble at his scoop of ice cream.

  She felt a knot of dread in her stomach at the thought of facing her grandfather. But she knew she needed to patch things up—and not just with him.

  “Still glad you’re my bodyguard instead of Arthur’s?” Carly asked Seton.

  “Extremely glad,” said Seton, taking another lick of
his ice cream.

  ***

  Lord G was off on his nightly walk. Arthur was nowhere in sight either, to Carly’s relief. Carly went to her room and called her mom back.

  “Oh, thank goodness! I’ve been trying to reach you for ages. I want to help, honey. I’m here to listen. Talk to me, okay?”

  Carly took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was just really shocked.”

  “Honestly, Carly, there were times when I wanted to tell you everything. About your dad’s decision, about the Valmonts, about why we drifted so far away from them. But you never really even asked about your dad. And I didn’t want to overload you with stuff you weren’t ready to hear.”

  “I get that,” Carly said. “And I know I didn’t ask you about my dad much. I wanted to. But I have Sal, and he’s a great dad. I didn’t want either of you to feel like something was missing from my life. Now, though—my dad’s the only person who could’ve really understood what this is like. I just really wish I knew more about him. I wish he was here and I could just ask him what he thinks I should do.”

  Her mom let out a shuddering breath on the other end of the line. Carly realized she was probably crying. That made her feel awful—but also less alone.

  “It’s true that your dad didn’t want to be a king,” her mom said. “And he didn’t want you to grow up with the same pressures and restrictions that he faced. But he also knew he couldn’t renounce your rights for you. He couldn’t make that decision on your behalf. He wanted you to make your own choice when you were old enough.”

  Carly found herself nodding, even though her mom couldn’t see her. “Why didn’t you warn me it was going to be so hard?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Would you have believed me if I did?”

  Carly let out a choked little laugh. “Probably not.”

  ***

  Carly had never figured out where Lord G went on his night walks. So she asked Seton where she could find her grandfather. And sure enough, he said “This way, your highness.”

  He led her to the little shed where her dad’s and uncle’s stuff was stored.

  Lord G was inside, sitting on a stack of boxes, holding the battered toy spaceship. He didn’t look up when Seton opened the door.

  “Here she is, my lord,” said Seton. “I’ll wait out here.” He nodded for Carly to step into the shed, then closed the door behind her.

  Carly picked her way through the clutter and sat down next to Lord G. For a minute she couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t really think she owed him an apology. Finally she nodded at the spaceship. “Is that my dad’s or Walter’s?”

  “I think it was originally Frederick’s. But Walter always wanted everything Frederick had. And Frederick never wanted what we gave him. So I think he let Walter have this.”

  Carly nodded. “You’re the one who saved all this stuff, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. What was I going to do, toss it out?”

  “You don’t seem like the most sentimental guy, you know.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know.”

  Carly asked a little timidly, “Does Arthur know about this shed?”

  Lord G shrugged, still not looking at her. “I’m not sure. He might’ve stumbled upon it, like you did.”

  “I think he should know about it,” Carly said. “I think you should talk to him about it. And about his dad. And about—just stuff in general. It might help.”

  “You’re giving out parenting advice now?” said Lord G with a touch of his usual dryness.

  Carly shrugged. “Just an idea. It’s harder to run away from people who seem human.”

  “Ah,” sighed Lord G. “I suppose that’s why you ran away?”

  “I just needed some time to think straight. I wasn’t running away. It’s not like I could hide for long in a country the size of an airplane hangar anyway.”

  Lord G chuckled softly. “Fair point. And now that you’ve done your thinking, what are your thoughts?”

  Carly took a deep breath. “I’ll go to meet the queen tomorrow, like I’m supposed to. But I can’t promise to make a good impression on her. I’m going to be honest and tell her that—that I don’t know if I can do this. And if that makes her angry—if she thinks I’m weak and disappointing—I can live with that. I hope you can too. Even if it embarrasses you.”

  Lord G was quiet for a long moment, staring down at the little spaceship in his hands. Finally he cleared his throat. “My dear Charlotte, I admit I don’t yet know you very well. But it’s clear to me that you are an intelligent and thoughtful young woman. The exact opposite of your cousin. In short, you’re exactly the kind of future monarch we need.”

  Carly sighed. “I appreciate that, m’lord. I just don’t know if I’m—up to it.”

  Lord G nodded. “I had a similar conversation with your father sixteen years ago. I’ll tell you what I told him. You may choose to leave the line of succession. But you will always be part of this family. I’m not like some of my wife’s cousins, disowning children who don’t toe the line. Perhaps because I’m not a Valmont. But like me, Carly, you’re an Evonian citizen above all else. If you honor that, I personally will never be embarrassed by you.”

  It took Carly a moment to realize that for the first time, he’d called her by her nickname. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  12

  Lord G had been right about the palace. It really was even grander than Mortmain Castle. It was a long rectangular building made of white stone, with towering columns and seemingly endless windows. Inside, the reception hall was the length of a football field. Every surface Carly could see was black-and-white marble. Floor, ceiling, tapestry-covered walls.

  “Seton and I will be right out here,” Lord G told Carly.

  “Wait, you’re not coming in with me?” A bubble of panic swelled in her stomach.

  Lord G smiled at her. “Queen Emilia wants to speak with you privately. And you’ll do fine, my dear. I have no doubt of it.”

  Carly glanced from Lord G to Seton. Her bodyguard wore his usual unreadable expression. But he gave her a little nod. She took that as a sign of encouragement.

  You can do this, Carly assured herself. You’re . . . you’re Carly. You’re just Carly and that’s enough.

  ***

  Queen Emilia’s private sitting room was all purple, which caught Carly by surprise. The queen herself was a tiny woman with papery skin and cotton-white hair. She sat in an armchair that actually looked somewhat comfortable.

  Carly knelt down like she’d practiced with her manners tutor.

  The queen waved a bony hand dismissively. “That’s all right, child, get up. Have a seat on the sofa.”

  Carly moved over to the cushion-covered purple sofa. She knew she was supposed to let the queen lead the conversation. Her manners tutor had been very clear on that.

  “You look very much like your grandmother,” the queen remarked.

  “I get that a lot,” said Carly. Then she remembered that her grandmother was this woman’s daughter. It must be so strange, so sad, to outlive your daughter and both your grandsons.

  Queen Emilia studied her with beady eyes. “So what do you think of Evonia?”

  Carly breathed in slowly, choosing her words. “There’s a lot I like. And a lot that I can’t stand.”

  The queen didn’t blink. “Go on.”

  “I know you want me to live here after I graduate from high school. And I do want to learn more about Evonia. I want to feel like I belong here. But I don’t want to just be a figurehead. I don’t want to show up at parades and pose for photo ops. If I’m going to spend the rest of my life here, I want to do something that makes it feel worthwhile. I know that if I give up my place in the line of succession, Arthur will be king after Prince Humphrey. And I know everyone thinks that’ll be a disaster.” Though maybe it wouldn’t, she thought. Maybe if Arthur finally felt like he mattered, he’d shape up. Maybe he’d want to honor his dad’s memory. And even if he was
still a train wreck, at least he wouldn’t have any actual power.

  Carly took another deep breath. Arthur’s choices weren’t up to her. She could only control her own decisions. “But I can’t be the kind of queen this family wants. I can’t live up to Charlotte the First.”

  “Ah yes,” sighed Queen Emilia. “Well, who can live up to her? But between the two of us, I doubt your father named you after her. I think he named you after Charlotte Devoir, the eighteenth-century revolutionary. How much do you know about her?”

  “Um—not much.”

  Queen Emilia raised her eyebrows.

  “Not anything,” Carly admitted quickly.

  The queen nodded. “Well, I can recommend several good biographies of her. She was part of a rebel group in the late 1700s. She fought to bring down the monarchy and bring a more democratic government to Evonia.”

  “Whoooa,” said Carly. “But—the monarchy didn’t give up its governing powers until about fifty years ago, right?”

  “Correct,” said Queen Emilia. “The eighteenth-century uprising failed. But it inspired future generations. Charlotte Devoir believed that leaders should earn their power. And that everyone should have the freedom to pursue goals of their choosing. Regardless of their family or social class.”

  “The soup kitchen is named after her,” Carly realized.

  “Yes. And a wing in our largest hospital. And one of the parliament buildings.”

  Carly had a feeling she would’ve liked this lady.

  “I suggest you follow Charlotte Devoir’s example,” Queen Emilia said. “Do not do what is expected of you. Do what you know you are suited to do—what you believe in.”

  Carly thought of the words she’d heard so often from her mom: “I want you to live the best life possible.” Suddenly Carly realized she’d been misunderstanding those words. Her mom didn’t want her to have a life that was comfortable and carefree. She wanted Carly to live a life she could be proud of.

  “You know where your talents lie,” said Queen Emilia. “You know what you can accomplish. Never mind those who say you must follow a certain path. Make your own path.”