“Excellent. Call when you’re ready for dinner, and I’ll be right up.”
I nodded, and she disappeared around the door, the hem of her dress hitting it as she left.
I never should have doubted Neena.
I gripped the back of the chair at my table, trying to take things one breath at a time. I’d nearly lost so much, but I had to remember how much I’d gained. I was queen, and I was engaged. I’d finally learned what it was to see other people and what it meant to let other people see me. I still had so much to accomplish, so many things I wanted to do for my family and for my people. I hoped I’d firmly settled myself in a place where I could do that.
Sighing, I curiously unwrapped the thin box in front of me. I slid off the lid and gasped.
Staring back at me was a beautiful image of my family on coronation day. Osten looked like he was plotting something mischievous as always, and Ahren was so handsome. All Kaden needed was a sword in his hand, and the image of a perfectly gallant prince would have been complete. I flipped to the next picture, and we were there again in a slightly different pose. I tore through the box, taking in shot after shot, beaming with happiness. Lady Brice clenched me in a hug, Kile laughed as he cradled me in his arms, and the Legers stood with a hand on each of my shoulders as if I really was their daughter.
These moments felt so far away now. It was almost as if I was looking at another girl in all these photos. A little time and hope was all it took to change a person.
When I got to the pictures with Eikko, they stood in stark contrast to all the others. I’d taken off my cape and he was in his vest, and I realized that I had subconsciously posed us like two people in love. My hand rested on his chest as he held onto my waist, and my head was tilted slightly toward him, like his heart had a gravitational pull.
I stared at my favorite picture for a very long time, thinking how amazing it was that the photographer had captured the light in his eyes. Just hours after this was taken, I’d stared into those eyes, been held by those arms. How remarkable was it that I had this picture at all? Had it not been for the others, he might not have even walked over with me, whispering Finnish in my ear. I told myself that I’d been lucky we met in the first place. Had I fought my parents, had Henri not been brave enough to apply, had I moved my hand two inches to the right when I pulled out his envelope …
I took the photo and walked over to the drawer where I’d been hiding my treasures. I smiled, looking down at my little collection and remembering the past two months with a sense of gratitude.
Henri’s shirt that he made into an apron. Kile’s hideous tie that prevented world peace. Hale’s pin, stabbed through a scrap a fabric, reminding me to keep it together. Fox’s embarrassing stick-figure drawing. Gunner’s poem that I really didn’t even need on paper because I couldn’t forget it if I tried. These were the things I’d saved.
I stood there, the photo hovering above the drawer. As much of a treasure as this picture was, I couldn’t drop it in. There was no way I could put my Eikko in a box.
BEFORE WHAT WOULD BE THE most important day of my life could even begin, I was summoned to the Women’s Room. My mother could have held court anywhere, and I still didn’t understand what made some massive parlor her favorite place to do it. All the same, she had called, and I was coming.
Miss Lucy was there, and so was Aunt May. I didn’t know who let slip the news to her, but I was so thrilled I nearly bolted across the room to her. But then I saw that my beloved aunt was not the reason I’d been called. Miss Marlee was weeping into Mom’s shoulder.
She looked up and zeroed in on me. “If you didn’t want to marry him, fine, but why—WHY—did you banish him? How am I supposed to live without my children?”
“Josie will still be here,” I reminded her gently.
She held up a finger at me. “Don’t get smart. You may be queen, but you are still just a child.”
Mom’s eyes darted between us, unsure what to do: defend a daughter who was old enough to defend herself but her daughter nonetheless, or comfort a friend whose son was leaving her with very little warning—a pain she understood intimately.
“Miss Marlee, you have to let me explain.” I crossed the room, watching her crumple into a chair. “I love Kile. He’s become more precious to me than I ever could have expected. And the truth is, he would have stayed for me. He might have even stayed for you. But did you really want that?”
“Yes!” she insisted, looking up at me with red eyes.
“It almost literally broke my mother’s heart when Ahren left. It broke mine. Does that mean he should have stayed here forever?”