1James
Iplaced my hand on the wall, having slipped away in the aftermath of my grandmother's announcement. This spare room was quiet for the moment, tucked away in a side hallway in the palace. No one had reason to come down this way anymore. Several other wings of the palace were similarly abandoned, lacking occupants as people died or moved on without a next generation to replace them.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to steady myself so I could head back out and face the paparazzi with all the other contenders. With all the others who were just as hopeful, and thought themselves just as well equipped as I was.
Idiots. I'd been dreaming of taking the throne for my entire life. No one was better prepared than me. The public loved me, and I was always in the news, always catching the eye of the citizens. If I were to be crowned king, the media would devour it.
Unfortunately, it wasn't as simple as that.
My heart gave a soft pang at the thought of my great grandmother, Charlotte Cobb, the Queen of Denmark. Intermarriage and the subsequent, eventual death of the king had put her on the throne, where she had ruled until she was 100 years old to the day. Her birthday, and the day of her death, were only last week.
That put my grandmother, Delia Cobb, on the throne. Today was her coronation, an explosive and grand affair broadcast all over the world. The entire day had been nothing but one ceremony after another, broken up by transfers from one location to the next.
Prancing horses had pulled an endless number of carriages through the streets of Copenhagen, the enormous animals effortlessly toting along dignitaries, ministers, guests, important news figures, and family. Behind the carriages were grand marching bands, performers, and parade floats.
A man riding an elephant had cast candy into the hands of the waiting crowd, round, crumbling lollipops in the colors of royalty. The clamor had been deafening, prayers and praise mingling and mixing until individual words were the roar of the ocean. I could still hear it now, echoing in my ears, in the back of my mind.
That praise and adoration could be mine, because my grandmother's first decree as the coronated queen was to announce her abdication.
Have you ever heard a crowd go silent? Thousands upon thousands of people, crushed into the ceremonial space in the garden, stretching on and on across the grounds, on either side of the gates, the road, and still further on, making their chaotic roar, and then they had gone quiet in a spreading ripple from front to back. All that had remained was the sound of breathing, and one of the ministers dropping his pen.
After an entire day of this pompous affair, my grandmother had looked every one of her 82 years. Microphones and cameras and cell phones all strained in her direction as she gave her reasons for her announcement.
They were simple reasons, easy enough to understand.
She was old, and she had no desire to spend her every last second at the head of a country which needed younger leadership and a firmer hand.
I agreed about that. Let the young do as the young will. Let us have our chance to rule the world.
My grandmother stated she would abdicate the throne in honor of the first of her grandchildren to have an heir. "The world needs more fertile rulers in countries like ours," she had said. "Our footing is questionable and has been for some time. It is time for this to change."
Suddenly, I heard footsteps echoing down the hallway where I was hiding. I snatched another breath and held it, but it was no good. The footsteps paused outside the door of this very room, and the golden knob turned.
