“Probably cheering for the demise of the throne,” I said under my breath.
“Well, at least you know what to expect,” Aramis quipped.
I shot him another glare. Everything about this was ridiculous. As I looked in the mirror, I saw my brother standing behind me and wondered how he’d fare as king. We looked so much alike, no one would bat an eye if he went up there today and accepted the crown. As if he sensed what I was thinking, he shook his head, a sad smile on his face.
“I would never want to be in that position. I’m sorry you have to be.”
“Me too.”
“Miss Adeline confirmed her attendance,” Pierre said.
My brother held my gaze in our reflection. “You invited her?”
“Maman did. She’s planning the wedding, you know.”
“Adeline is?” Aramis’s mouth unhinged. “This is so fucked.”
“Extremely,” Pierre agreed, clearing his throat when I looked over at him. “Addie is kind, but she has a strong spirit. She can do whatever she sets her mind to.”
“How very traditional of you to have the woman you’re in love with attend the event that will either push her away completely or push her to take a place as your mistress,” Aramis said.
“Fuck you. You know that’s not my intention.” I turned and faced him. “I don’t even want her planning the wedding. I’d rather her not be here at all.”
“Yet here she will be.”
“Not because I wanted it.”
“But you’re the king now. Can’t you say no to your own mother when she pushes your buttons?”
“Jesus. You’re being a child.” I shut my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair. “Do you like to see me upset on one of the most important days of my life?”
“I didn’t realize this was that important to you.”
“Billions will be watching.” I pointed at the window. “All of France will be here.”
“Something else you should know,” Pierre said.
“Yes?”
“There’s a women’s march happening in the courtyard. It’s contained and they’re being escorted outside.”
“A march? How did they get in here?” I blinked. “What are they complaining about?”
“A guard who got fired, and from what I gather, they’re complaining about the inflation in the price of food.”
“Fuck.” I sighed heavily as I walked over to the desk, where I had all of my papers scattered from my meeting with the cabinet.
A cabinet consisting of five people, all of whom hated me. To their dismay, they’d all been handpicked by my father, who believed in the keep-your-enemies-close theory. They weren’t allowed to do much, as everything was ultimately the sovereign’s decision, but their judgment rang through for sure. I located the economy folder and flipped through it. Everything was inflated because of our current deal with the Saudis. Unfortunately, petroleum was valued as gold and we had none of our own. I closed the folder with a thump. The people were right to riot, but my hands were tied. I’d have to get on a plane and go meet with the Crowned Prince myself in order to sort this out.
I glanced at my brother and Pierre. “I have to get on a carriage and parade around from here to the Basilica while the people riot? They already tried to kill me once. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”
“We would never let that happen, Your Majesty.” That was Pierre.
“Stop it with the Your Majesty bullshit when it’s just the three of us.” I turned around and faced the mirror again, undoing my tie quickly and tossing it aside.
“Do you want a different tie?” Pierre asked.
“I don’t want a tie at all.”
“You’ll wear this to the coronation.” Pierre pointed at the extravagant costume set over the bed. “And the tuxedo to the party afterward, so maybe you should change into the first outfit first and I’ll get the collar taken care of.”
“I fucking hate parties.” I shrugged the tuxedo off, tossing it on the bed and walked over to the first costume.
It looked like something out of King Lear, but it would do. It was the same thing my father wore for his coronation, which was similar to what his father had worn, and the list went on. I couldn’t be the first person to say no to this. I was supposed to hold this palace together. I was supposed to solidify that the sovereign wasn’t going anywhere just because my father was no longer with us. Sure, I’d try to modernize things a bit, but today was not the time for that. Today, I’d fall in line like I was expected to. Tomorrow, during my meeting with the cabinet, I’d try to work with them more. Something my father was always criticized for not doing.
Riding in a chariot wasn’t all it was worked up to be. I’d only done it once before, when I was a child. It was one of the things I was glad our family didn’t do often. As traditional as we were, we opted for cars rather than horses and carriages when we had outings, but in this case, we held onto the tradition. We had to stop three times due to rambunctious crowds on our way from Versailles to the Basilica of Saint-Denis and all three times the horses took a massive dump that left the chariot smelling like shit. It was shit I was sure the crowds would have loved to pick up and throw at me. From what I could tell, my reception was cut in half. Fifty percent of them loved this and the other fifty percent were spitting on the ground as the gold-plated wheels passed them. There were people carrying signs that said “Je t’aime, King Elias!” “Vive le Roi Elias!” and those would have been fine, if they hadn’t been followed by “A bas la monarchie!”