Don't Want to be Queen | ONC 2023 (Complete)

Six | Gemma

So it turns out a week is not nearly long enough to get to know dozens of men well enough to decide who can be trusted.

As in, it's the night before my birthday ball and instead of celebrating or sleeping, I'm sitting in my room staring at headshots of what my father likes to call 'potential suitors', though he continues to make his preference for Sir Spencer, Duke of Gross known.

Erica, bless her, is stretched out on the floor, staring at her detailed notes on every man still under consideration.

Including Enzo.

"Have you been convinced to take your lover off the list yet?" I ask Erica as she highlights the notes for each of our remaining candidates. "I notice you've been spending a lot of time together this week."

"No," she says without looking up. "I've left all eligible suitors in the pool. We need the best chance of success here."

"Have you talked to him about this at all?" I muse, pulling myself to the edge of the bed and watching down over her kneeling on my floor with her full-length gown, hair and tiara from tonight's formal dinner still adorning her head.

"Yes," she answers.

"And?" I press.

She stills, sighs, and then resumes her work. "And I don't think he knows I exist."

"You don't think he knows who one of the two princesses of his nation is? Maybe we should take him off the list."

She shoots me a glare that has me surprised she didn't hit me in the head with her writing implements. "He knows I exist," she admits. "But I'm trying not to get my hopes up."

I mentally take him off my list, but stop the argument there. She's not ready to hear it, no matter how true it is.

I scroll through my phone, virtually following the group of gentlemen around on their adventures this evening. A few of the ones we've already knocked off the list are out on the town tonight doing things that would have father rejecting any advance they made.

But I find one particularly interesting picture.

"Look at this," I say, sliding my phone across the floor.

"I'm busy."

"I'll take over. You look at the phone." I hop off the bed and push her out of the way.

I really do take over, scanning through Erica's meticulously crafted lists about each candidate.

No one strikes my fancy at all.

Erica has made her way to my bed so I wander over, watching her scroll through the pictures of Enzo playing chess with Prince Antonio of Manarola. There's a sketchbook open on the table with a stunning image of Prince Antonio standing next to my sister. Which is what I wanted her to see.

"Doesn't know you exist, huh?" I nudge her shoulder.

Her blush answers, though her words focus on the task at hand. "So, who are we narrowing it down to?"

I scrunch up my face.

"No, Gemma! We need to pick someone. We only have a day to find the guy and then less than a week to convince him to offer you marriage."

"Which is outrageous and archaic," I groan, tossing my own hair pins onto the table. "I don't want a husband."

"I know. But there must be someone who will make an acceptable suitor, at least. Someone we trust to call it off."

"Not a single gentleman is suitable," I whine, flopping down onto my bed and covering my face with the nearest decorative pillow.

I'm just doing a service to the pillow, making it useful after all these years being supposedly beautiful.