by Renna Peak
I’m surprised—normally Leopold is at the heart of the party. He’s calmed down somewhat since Matthew was born, but he still enjoys a good celebration. Tonight, though, since the moment the festival began, he’s been quiet and standoffish. And there can only be one reason why.
He glances my direction, and when his eyes briefly meet mine, he gives an obligatory nod then turns away again. That’s what our relationship has turned into—nods and silence. I’m as much at fault as he is, I fully admit, but I’m not pleased about it in the least.
This ends tonight.
Pastries still in hand, I stride over to him. I’m tired of staying silent, of trying to sweep this issue under the rug. Leopold has had eight months to adjust to the idea of my child, and at some point, we have to clear the air.
I stop in front of him.
“Good evening, Leopold,” I say. “Can we talk?”
He looks almost shocked by my forwardness. Then his eyes dart over the room full of people beyond me.
“Do you really want to do this here?” he asks.
“I’ll do it wherever you like. But this ends tonight. We’re adults, and I refuse to keep ignoring our problems.”
“Surely there might be a better time. It’s Christmas Eve, and we’re in the middle of a party. And your wife—”
“Could give birth at any time, which is why I’d like to settle this now.”
Leopold shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. “After you’ve ignored me for the past month? You sure know how to handle conflict, Brother.”
“I ignored you? You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”
Leopold straightens, frowning. “I’ve done no such thing. But don’t worry—you’ve made yourself perfectly clear on how things stand. Don’t worry, Andrew, I completely understand—the law is the law, and that’s far more important than family. Let’s not confuse the two lest things get messy.”
My temper is rising, but I try to keep my voice steady. “I don’t need lecture from you. I’ve tried to do the right thing, every step of the way. I’m sorry things turned out this way, but at some point we all must accept that things are how they are.”
“I’ve accepted them. You’re the one who won’t bloody drop it.”
“Clearly you haven’t accepted them if you had to send your wife to visit my wife to tell me to back off.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Well, she certainly felt the need to come speak to Victoria on your behalf. Perhaps you should inform your wife that—”
I’m cut off by the sudden grip of Leopold’s fist on my collar. He yanks my face closer to his.
“Don’t you dare say a thing about Elle,” he growls at me. “Your problem is with me.”
“Yes, it is.”
Leopold releases me. “Well, then what do you want? Your child will have the title. The matter is already settled. I’m allowed to have own feelings about the matter. You can’t control everything, Andrew. And you definitely can’t control me.”
“I’m not trying to control you.”
“Oh, really? What do you call this, then?”
“I want this settled before my child is born.”
“It’s settled!”
Our agitated conversation has started to draw the attention of those around us, but neither of us seems to care.
“It’s obviously not settled,” I say. “Or we wouldn’t be having this argument.”
“What do you want?” he asks. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’re just trying to pick a fight.”
“I’m doing no such thing.”
“Do you want to hit me?” he asks, spreading his arms. “Go ahead. Hit me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hit me,” he says again. “You obviously want to. So let’s just get this over with.”
“I will not dignify that with—”
“Hit me!”
Something inside me snaps. I feel it happen, but I’m powerless to stop it. Madness has taken me over, and there’s no denying it. He’s right. I want to hit him.
And then there’s no stopping my body. It seems to move on its own. And my plate of carefully selected pastries goes flying right at his face, with my fist behind it.
Victoria
It seems to be taking forever for Andrew to return. I didn’t really want anything to eat, but he seemed to need something to do to keep him occupied.
I let out a long breath. It’s the strangest feeling—I don’t want him hovering over me, but I want him near me all the same. And I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right with me.
There’s a crash across the ballroom, and a hush falls over the crowd though the music is still playing in the background.
Something twists in my chest—I somehow know this has something to do with Andrew.
Maybe he’s collapsed again. Maybe his heart has given out…
The crowd parts for me as I rush over, but Andrew hasn’t collapsed at all. He’s on the ground, wrestling with Leo, both of them throwing fists at the other.
“Andrew!” Neither of them seem to be paying attention. I’m not sure where Elle has gone—maybe she and Matthew left the festivities early. “Andrew!” I call out for him again, but he doesn’t even glance at me. His attention is squarely focused on beating the shit out of his brother as his fist finds Leo’s jaw again.
Things all seem to be happening in slow motion. Leo lands a punch on Andrew’s eye, and Andrew jabs his brother in the stomach.
At almost the same time, I feel a strange twinge in my own belly. It starts low—much lower than the false labor contractions I’ve been having for weeks. And within another moment, the pain rises, shooting across my entire abdomen.
I suck in a breath, holding my abdomen until the pain passes. My attention turns back to my husband—of course he’s embroiled in some stupid fight with his brother when I might actually be in labor. I still don’t really understand what it is between the two of them, or why Andrew feels the need to continue to rub the whole ascension law in Leo’s face.
Montovia is important to him—Andrew has spent his entire life knowing that he bears the burden carrying on the history of the country. Why can’t he see that his family is just as important?
At the thought of family the pain starts again in my belly, low at first, but soon taking over my entire body this time. I double over, catching the attention of a few onlookers.
A woman I don’t know comes to my side. “Nice and slow, dear.” She rubs my back, and as soon as the contraction passes, she ushers me away from the commotion.
Penelope must have seen what’s happening. She seems to appear out of nowhere, smiling at the woman, giving her a nod of gratitude. “I’ll take over from here.”
The woman gives the queen a curtsy as Penelope slides her arm around my waist.
We walk slowly to the exit—I think she’s trying not to draw attention to us. It’s probably not too difficult, since my husband is making an ass of himself on the other side of the room. Everyone in Montovia probably knows about the fight by now.
Penelope seems to sense my thoughts. “Don’t worry about them, dear.” She glances over her shoulder as we leave the ballroom. “They’re being fools. We’ll deal with them later.”
I open my mouth to respond, but instead my eyes widen as another contraction begins. I start to count the seconds—I get to forty-five before it stops.
Forty-five?
“This is it.” I look up at my mother-in-law. “Isn’t it?”
She gives me a knowing nod, a smile on her lips. “I suspect so, but we’ll let the physician tell us for certain.”
I have two more contractions before we make it to the physician’s suite—they are coming closer together than I would have expected, and each one seems to last longer than the one before.
It’s happening too fast, I think. I’ve read way more than I should have about this over the past six months or so. First babies don’t
arrive quickly. They take their time—labor lasts forever.
Something must be wrong.
The doctor smiles at me as we walk through the door. I’m not sure how she knew to be here—maybe Penelope sent word ahead of us. But she’s here, waiting for me, and she takes my hand, leading me into the room they have set up for me to have my child.
It’s very homey—Penelope had seen to it. And they’ve made plans to transfer me to the hospital if I need to go immediately. The doctor has assured me nearly every day that it’s safe for me to give birth here. And I’d asked for as little intervention as possible.
Another contraction hits, and one of the women rubs my back until it passes.
“How often are the contractions coming?” They doctor seems to be asking Penelope and not me.
“About three minutes apart,” the queen responds.
The doctor just nods, leading me over to the bed. “I’m going to do a few checks, Victoria. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to have a baby tonight.”
Andrew
Leopold has improved since the last time we truly fought—years and years ago now. He’s had a lot of practice in his adult life, and I, I’m discovering, have not had quite enough.
He gets in a couple of swipes at my face before I can hit him in the stomach. One moment he’s on top of me, the next I seem to have the upper hand—but either way, the whole world has become a blur. The ballroom has faded away. In the dim reaches of my mind I’m aware that this is inappropriate, that there will be consequences. But I can’t bring myself to care. My brother was right—I needed to hit him. To get this out.
And clearly, he needed to hit me, too.
I’m not sure how long we’re wrestling before someone tries to pull us apart. I’m suddenly aware of hands on my shoulders, of someone pulling me away from Leopold.
“Stop this nonsense at once,” comes my father’s voice, low and calm.
Immediately, both Leopold and I freeze. My father is a terrifying man when he yells. But he’s even more terrifying when he speaks like this—controlled and quiet. That’s when you know he’s truly upset.
I pull myself off of Leopold. My knuckles are sore, and there are chocolate pastries smashed against my Christmas suit. My brother looks little better.
We both scramble to our feet, facing our father. Around us, there’s a loose circle of onlookers, watching this humiliating scene play out.
We really should have taken this outside, I think, shame washing over me. Half the country has just watched me behave like an unruly child. Me, their future king. I’ve never been so ashamed in all my life.
My father’s eyes are steely and cold as he stares at us. His face is perfectly controlled, but I can tell by the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that he’s barely concealing his rage. This sort of behavior is unacceptable in private, but in front of our citizens, it’s even worse. It’s unforgivable.
I know I should say something—apologize, at the very least. Make some excuse for my behavior. Lie, perhaps, and pretend that this was some planned holiday theater about overcoming conflicts or something. But I can’t seem to find the words. I’m numb. All the rage and restlessness from before has drained out of me, and with it, apparently, all my power of thought and speech.
My father pulls his death stare away from Leopold and me and turns to the crowd beyond. Apparently he’s realized the same thing—that something must be said. And that he, as king, should probably be the one to say it. The crowd around us has gone deathly silent. I swear they’re all holding their breath, waiting.
But before anyone can utter a word, someone pushes through the crowd, forcing themselves out in front. It’s a servant. He stands in the open space between the crowd and my father, panting for breath like he’s been running.
“Your Majesty,” he says with a quick bow. “Your Highnesses. Forgive the intrusion, but I thought you’d like to know that Her Royal Highness Princess Victoria has gone into labor.”
Instantly a murmur ripples through the crowd. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach again.
Victoria is having the baby. Part of me understands, but the rest of me is having trouble grasping this. I’m still unable to speak or move.
“Your Highness,” the servant says to me, “I can take you to her.”
I’m paralyzed. Victoria is having the baby, and I was over here fighting with my brother. I didn’t think the shame could get any worse, but it does, threatening to choke me. I should have been there with her. I should have been there…
A hand grips me by the upper arm. Leopold.
“Come on, Brother,” he says lightly. “The gig is up.” He looks almost like his normal self, and there’s a grin on his face as he turns to the crowd.
“Forgive our little scene,” he says to the people watching. “You see, we wanted to make sure Victoria could sneak out of here without raising too much alarm. So Andrew came up with the brilliant idea to cause a distraction. Forgive us for the disruption—but you can’t say we didn’t go for it, can you? I think we’d have made some fine actors in another life.”
Laughter rises from the crowd, and the tension immediately eases. I can’t believe it—people actually seem to be accepting my brother’s explanation.
“Of course,” Leopold adds, raising his voice to be heard above the crowd, “now that Victoria is safely away, my brother should probably go to her side. If you’ll excuse us.”
The crowd parts. Leopold’s hand is still on my arm, and he guides me toward the door. Our father follows.
“That was not an act,” Father says as soon as we’re safely in one of the quiet corridors beyond the ballroom.
“No, but it looks like our citizens are willing to cut us a little slack,” my brother replies. “Besides, now they have something far more exciting to discuss—the impending birth of their new little prince or princess.” He looks at me. “And you have more important things to do than to stand here. Come on, let’s get you to her.”
My brother leads me down the corridor, and I follow, still numb with shock.
Victoria is having the baby.
I still can’t quite believe it. I’ve been counting down to this day for months, anxiously awaiting it, but it doesn’t seem to be real.
Leopold has to almost drag me along. My feet don’t seem to want to cooperate.
We’re just outside the physicians’ quarters when he stops and turns to me.
“I know exactly how you’re feeling,” he says. “It’s overwhelming, and you feel unprepared, and it’s suddenly hit you that everything is about to change.” He pats me on the shoulder. “But you can freak out later. Right now, you need to be there for her.”
He’s right, of course. When did Leopold become the wise one?
I turn my head, but our father has disappeared somewhere. It’s just my brother and me.
And then, from the other side of the door, I hear something—Victoria. And she sounds like she’s in pain.
Immediately, everything seems to snap back into focus. My wife needs me.
I start toward the door, then turn back to my brother.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
He grins. “Of course. That’s what brothers are for.” He rubs his jaw. “We need to work on your right hook, though. Just saying.”
It’s funny, but somehow all of the tension between us seems to have disappeared. It’s like we’re our old, normal selves again—we might not always get along, but there’s a certain understanding and respect, a bond that can never be broken. Maybe all we needed was to throw a few punches, or maybe we’ve both just realized what is truly important here.
I smile. “We’ll do that.”
And I have every intention of holding him to it—times like this make me wonder what I’d ever do without my family at my side.
Right now, though, I have something important to do. My child is about to be born. And I’m about to become the head of my own small family.
Victoria
> I can’t believe I’m holding my beautiful baby in my arms.
Andrew sits beside me on the bed, sliding his arm around my back as he gazes down at the little bundle. “What are we going to name her?”
I look over at him. The grin on his face is so wide it looks like it might hurt—I can’t say I’ve ever seen my husband so happy.
Tears fill my eyes. “I still can’t believe she’s here. And that you were right… That she’s a girl.”
He stares down at the baby. “I can’t explain how I knew, but I did.” He lets the baby grab his finger. “I just did.”
Our daughter stares up at him, and if I didn’t know that newborns can’t smile, I’d swear she does.
I feel almost weightless, a warmth radiating through me that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. Joy. This has to be what true joy feels like.
“She beautiful. Almost as beautiful as her mother.” Andrew stares down at her, still smiling. “And surely your mother will forgive me, won’t she, little one?”
“Forgive you?” I tilt my head. “For what?”
He chuckles. “You’ve forgotten already? It was something about never allowing me to touch you again.” He shakes his head as he looks over at me. “I believe there were more than a few expletives thrown in for good measure during your labor, as well.”
“Well…” I can’t help but laugh myself. “It’s probably hard for you to imagine pushing an eight pound human out of your body…”
He pulls me closer to him, kissing me on the temple. “You’re right. I can’t imagine. And you have no idea how grateful I will always be.” Andrew lets out a long breath. “Now, we have the ultimate task of naming this future queen.”
“Future queen.” My voice is almost breathless. It’s still so hard to believe that our little girl already holds so much importance to the future of this country.
“Yes.” He bounces his finger, our daughter still holding tightly to it. “Our beautiful little girl is already a princess.”