I wonder if this is what the French Riviera is like. Or the Amalfi Coast. Two places Anderson said we’d visit at some point.
Will we still have that chance?
Or is everything about to be ripped from under us?
“Want to go for a walk?” Anderson eventually asks.
When I turn around, he drops his hold, and I peer into his eyes for the first time since he arrived home. In that one look, I can tell things didn’t go as he’d hoped.
“Is this a good walk, or a bad walk?”
He smiles and reaches for my hand, our fingers interlocking. “That all depends on you.”
“Okay.” I force a smile. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He leads me back into the bedroom, through the living area, and out into the hallway. Neither of us says a single word as we walk through his estate, any staff we encounter bowing or curtseying as we pass. I’ve only been here a few hours, but knowing I’m constantly being watched already suffocates me.
As if Anderson can sense my discomfort, he quickens his pace to the double doors leading to the gardens. Once we step outside, I inhale a deep breath, the chains seeming to cut off my oxygen falling away. I steal a glance at Anderson, his own expression similar to mine.
“This way,” he murmurs.
Hand in hand, we stroll along the flower-lined paths. The sweet aroma fills me, making me forget everything, even if for only a minute.
As we near the edge of his property, the breeze picks up, blowing my hair in front of my face. He leads me to a bench and gestures for me to sit. Then he joins me, his gaze focused on the sparkling ocean sprawled out before us. The sun setting on the horizon casts a peaceful glow over our surroundings.
When Anderson gave me a tour of the estate and grounds earlier, he’d remarked that this was the place he often went if he needed to clear his mind. I can see why. The crashing waves of the ocean below coupled with the lush greenery around us is a sight to behold. Makes you forget that only a few hundred yards away sits a building that’s more a prison than a place to call home. At least that’s the feeling I get when inside its walls.
But out here, I feel…free.
And by the look of serenity on Anderson’s expression, I assume he does, too.
“This world is vastly different from what you’re used to,” he says after a protracted pause.
It’s not a question. So I don’t respond, granting him this opportunity to sort out his own thoughts.
“And not just the different electrical outlets and the side of the road we drive on,” he adds, his voice lightening momentarily. “But my world is different from yours.” He shifts his gaze toward mine, the glow from the sunset reflecting in his vibrant blue eyes.
“Truthfully, there’s a lot I’ve kept from you. Not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I didn’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the opportunity I have. That I take my position for granted. I don’t. I’m grateful to be in a position where I can potentially make a difference in people’s lives, as cliché and idealistic as that sounds.” His lips press together into a tight smile. Then he turns his eyes forward once more.
“Unfortunately, this world sometimes has its drawbacks. Our lives are under a microscope on a daily basis. People dig deep for any hint of vulnerability or weakness that can be exploited. And that’s especially true now with the referendum on the ballot.”
I scrunch my brows. “Referendum?”
“It happens occasionally. A referendum to amend the Constitution to either severely limit the monarch’s power or abolish the monarchy altogether in favor of a true parliamentary government gains enough support to go to the voters on election day.”
“If it’s a monarchy, people still get to vote?” I ask, wishing I’d done a little more research on how this form of government functioned.
“In a constitutional monarchy, the king is akin to your president, with the Executive Council having powers similar to that of your Cabinet, all of whom are elected by the people. That’s simply the executive branch. Like you, we also have a legislative and judicial branch. The judicial branch is appointed by the Executive Council, with the monarch’s approval. And the legislative branch is a unicameral house of elected representatives. Each branch functions much like you’re accustomed to. The legislative makes the laws. The executive carries out and enforces the laws, with a limited power to enact certain orders, as well. And the judicial branch adjudicates any disagreements regarding laws that have been passed.”
“So you’re telling me I should have paid more attention during my World Political Systems class in college.”
“Probably not a bad idea.” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up in amusement. It only lasts a second, but I’ll take what I can get. “As I was saying, there’s a referendum on the ballot to limit the monarch’s power. We’d still be a constitutional monarchy, but if it passes, the bulk of the executive power will now be placed in a prime minister elected by the people, the monarch only retaining certain limited powers, much like is currently in place in the U.K. This country is one of the last remaining true constitutional monarchies where the monarch still retains quite a bit of executive power. I think it’s partly because of an unspoken rule that when a monarch reaches the age of sixty-five, he or she will voluntarily abdicate.
“Because of all of this, every decision must be carefully weighed, all the potential public relations issues evaluated in terms of how it will affect the monarchy. How it will affect the referendum vote.” He glances at me. “Even decisions of a more…personal nature.”
I lower my eyes, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt, an unsettling premonition forming in the pit of my stomach that this constitutional referendum is about to wreak havoc on our lives. That the leak of our engagement isn’t helping matters.
“Your father doesn’t like the idea of us getting married.”
“He was more surprised by it than anything. He didn’t think we were as serious as we are.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’d have no reason to, I suppose. I don’t have the kind of relationship with him where I share what’s going on in my personal life. Most of his updates about me come from his private secretary. It was my grandmother and the head of household, Dalton Peel, who were quite opposed. Particularly the head of household.”
“Head of household?” I blink, confused. “Like the main butler or something?”
“No. The head of household is similar to what you know as your president’s chief of staff. He’s essentially in charge of the entire royal household, which basically means he’s in charge of the entire monarchy. He’s the only person on the Executive Council who isn’t elected, but appointed by the king. And he’s also my father’s most senior member of his Privy Council.”
“And what’s the Privy Council?”
“An advisory committee to the monarch. Whereas the Executive Council offers the king advice on matters of state, the Privy Council advises the monarch on matters of, well, the monarchy. Our history. Our traditions. Our public image.”
I take a minute to process this new information, my brain on the verge of exploding. Now I really wish I’d learned more about this concept of government. At least that would have given me a foot up, so to speak.