Her brother snorted out a frustrated breath. ‘Of course you would help your replacement, no matter how much it costs you.’
‘It is my duty. And she’s our sister,’ she replied simply.
‘She’s going to have to marry. And soon. And Freya—the same rules will now apply to her. She will have to marry a noble, just as you would have had to.’
Freya could only nod. She hated that Marit had been dragged into this. Hated not only the archaic legislation that determined the man she would marry, but also hated just how much her younger sister would struggle with the constraints of her new duties. Freya had been born knowing her duty, knowing the restrictions it placed on her life. But Marit had always been the wild one, and she and Aleksander had indulged her, enjoying her freedom even if they couldn’t have it for themselves.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the words thick and heavy on her tongue.
‘It’s not your fault. And I’m still not convinced it’s necessary.’
‘Really? It’s three months since your coronation. If the press find out about me when you are still unmarried and without—’ Both her heart and mind stumbled over the word.
Children.
It whispered and screamed in the silence between her and Aleksander. Behind her back, she clenched her fists, warding off the visceral ache that swirled in spaces that would never be filled.
‘Freya—’
She put up a hand to stop him. ‘If the press find out, Aleksander, it would be carnage.’ She could see it so clearly. The press would rip apart any dignity or privacy that she had. Across the globe, doctors, celebrities and everyday Svardians would be asked for their opinions on the failure of her body. ‘But the backlash wouldn’t just be on me, Aleksander. They would dig into your life, Marit’s... And you are already under such incredible scrutiny–’
‘Freya...’ he warned.
‘Aleksander, I believe in you. I believe in what you are trying to achieve for Svardia. But there are already whispers that you are too progressive, and too fast with your changes.’
‘And that is my duty to bear, not yours.’
‘And mine is to make sure that nothing disrupts what you are hoping to accomplish.’
‘They will tear you apart, Freya.’
‘Yes, they will,’ she replied, not naïve about the backlash that would ensue. ‘But not because of my failure as a woman. We will tell them that I have chosen to step down in order to spend time working on myself. We all know how much the press love to hate a self-involved royal. It should keep them busy for quite some time.’
And, that way, it would at least appear as if it were her choice. That way, she might be able to fool herself that she had managed to preserve her agency by controlling the narrative. That way, she might protect her dignity. Heridentity.
Because to have her femininity questioned, her womanhood... Her heart shook, cowering from the threat of such a blow. She would loseherself. So, no. She couldn’t face that. Better to let them think her selfish and uncaring of the institution into which she had been born and loved with her every breath.
‘If I had children—’
‘But you don’t,’ she said simply.
‘But Iwill,’ he bit out through clenched teeth, as if it were something that would cost him greatly. But her curiosity over it wasn’t enough to distract her from the argument they’d been having for the last month.
‘Yes, but in how long? Two or three years’ time? No palace can keep a secret for that long. The news of my infertility will get out in the next three months, maybe? Six if we’re lucky. If I step down, my fertility won’t even be a question and we have a much greater chance of keeping it quiet for the length of time you need.’ The possibility that the media would never discover her infertility was only a distant hope for Freya.
‘You have an answer for everything.’
‘Because I have thought about it every which way.’ And Freya had. Her heart ached unbearably. She would never have willingly stepped away from her family, from her role. But if it meant securing the stability and future of her family and country, then her decision was simple.
‘Well, then I have one last duty for you to perform, Your Highness,’ he said, going to stand behind his desk, no longer her brother but her King. ‘I have a Medal of Valour that needs to be delivered to its recipient.’
Freya frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Medals are received at the investitures.’
‘The recipient refuses to attend the Investiture.’
The Medal of Valour was offered to military personnel who had demonstrated exceptional courage in the face of extreme danger. But to refuse it from your King—the Commander in Chief—was not only unheard of but would reflect badly on Aleksander, especially at his first Investiture. It would be seen as a vote of no confidence, no matter what reasons were behind the refusal, and that could be a devastating blow to Aleksander’s rule.
‘Why would they not want the medal?’