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

Eight | Erica

Gemma leaves us alone in Enzo's sitting room. Which I'm fairly certain breaks a hundred rules of social engagement and perhaps one or two actual laws, but who am I to resist helping my sister, saving our nation, and staring at Enzo's enticing eyes?

It's oddly silent in the guest quarters, every suite sound proofed against intrusions from the outside world. We offer our guests the utmost privacy, which is necessary in issues of international relations, but also makes the excess suites brilliant for renting or leasing for cheap to our nation's poor.

Which Father hates, of course, but with today's news of Gemma's probable ascension, it seems more possible than it ever has.

Enzo brings me back to the present with a little grunt and then aggressively clears his throat. "So, what are we supposed to do, exactly?" His eyes glance past me and I look to see what he's so focused on.

There, on a side table beside a grey chaise, is his sketchbook, lying open with a scene from our back gardens half-drawn inside. There's a couple at the center, but I can't make out the faces from this distance.

"Do you want to get that?" I point my hand as haphazardly as I'm able, pretending that I'm not excessively curious about who he's been drawing. And maybe a little bit hoping it's me. With him.

"I've told you before that you can look if you want," he says with a shrug, but his Adam's apple betrays him, bobbing with a hard swallow. "It's just a drawing."

"First, let's get back to the matter at hand," I reply, turning my back to the sketchbook and giving him an opportunity to close it if he doesn't want me to see.

He sits down again on the edge of a chair and folds his hands in his lap. "We need to get Antonio on board with an alliance," he says again. "Which means... what? He has to marry Gemma?"

"Well..." I try to figure out how to explain everything, but it's tricky.

"That's going to go well," he sighs, running his hand through his already unkempt hair, shirt falling further open.

"No. Wait. I'm just... I'm thinking."

His eyes drift around the room, hands fiddling in his lap, while I try to figure out how to explain everything that has happened in such a short time. "What we need is an alliance between our nations. And someone who will agree to become engaged to Gemma for at least long enough for us to get through her coronation. Once Father's out of the picture, there's not much stopping us from calling off the engagement."

"So Antonio needs to get engaged to Gemma and then not marry her?" he asks, face betraying his lack of faith in my idea. "And you think that's going to make for good relations between Manarola and Tilcara?"

"Shit." I hadn't thought of that at all, actually.

"Yeah. Shit."

"Okay, new plan." I stand to pace, the full skirt on my dress bumping into a variety of furniture as I do.

I've done three laps of the room when he says, "Which is what?"

"I'm thinking!"

"We have less than 18 hours, Erica. We're going to need to think faster."

"Well then why don't you do some of it," I protest. "What are we doing here? How are we going to handle the mess my ridiculous father left us in?"

"You'll be okay. I'll make sure of that," he says, his hand brushing mine.

"I'll be okay?" I repeat, stopping in front of him and staring down into his eyes. "Yeah, I know I'll be okay. I'm not worried about me. I'm worried because apparently two whole nations are crumbling and several sixty-something-year-olds have been unable to fix it and now it's up to you, me, my sister, and a guy I've talked to once. So ... I'm a little stressed."