The Queen's Game

4. A Very Important Question

"Why do you hate me so much?" 

Did she hate him? It certainly sounded like it, from the way she talked to him. But she had no reason to, really. Felipe hadn't done anything to make her hate him.

"I don't hate you," she concluded, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on top. Her voice had lost its vitriol now, and she was just left with horrible sadness. "You just remind me of the awful parts of being here. That we spent time together because my mother up and left. That you're already living a future that I'm bound to. And there's nothing I can do but shout at it."

"Do you not want to be queen?"

"I want to," she said immediately. It was the one thing in this entire ordeal that she was sure of. She was bound to that legacy, regardless, and Nina knew she wanted to have the job when it was time. "It's just that I may not be the queen they're expecting. I'm certainly not Aunt Delia."

"No, you're not," Felipe agreed with a little chortle, and her head turned sharply at him with a seething glare just before he backtracked. "In a good way, of course."

"How could you possibly know that?" She snorted, shaking her head. "I'm a flight risk, I dress inappropriately, and I'm ten scandals waiting to happen. I threw up on a vintage Chanel dress just the other night. I'm a PR nightmare."

"You came back to own up to all of it," he said, resting the back of his head on his hands, which he'd clasped at the nape of his neck. "That's more than what other people would have done."

Nina wondered how much of her 'transgressions' Felipe was actually aware of. Had he heard of her affair with the TV star in Los Angeles? Had he seen the half-naked photos of her that he'd leaked online after? Did he judge her for it? Did she really care if he did or didn't?

"People think that bamboo trees are weak," he said apropos to nothing. "They bend and sway at every gust of wind. But bamboo poles are actually pretty strong in tensile and compressive strength, which is why people still use them to build bridges and small structures. Bamboo plants are strong because of their roots. They lay them deep and strong, so when typhoon season comes along, they can handle a little wind speed."

Nina's face was blank.

"Are you saying I'm a bamboo tree?"

"No." He chuckled. "You're definitely not a bamboo tree. You're Saturnina Inez Mercado, the Crown Princess of Cincamarre. I think you're going to be really good for this place. Your father certainly thought so."

It was the most encouragement she'd heard from anyone and so far, had been the only words that brought her comfort. Nina sighed and stretched her legs forward.

"Now that's how you greet a Crown Princess." She grinned at him. "Come on. Time to face the music."

She stood up, brushing stray bits of grass away from the back of her dress as she put on her shoes.

"My ankle still hurts." He complained, but held up his arm to her anyway.

"Come on Your Serene Highness, take it like a queen." She joked, hoisting his arm over her shoulder so they could walk back.

"There's a group of people gathering at the pyre," he said thoughtfully as they reached the palace doors. "I saw them when we came close. It almost looked like a party. Flowers lining the street, people doing what they do when people die—"

"Drink and play card games?" Nina smiled at him. Funerals and wakes in Cincamarre were huge, loud affairs. People had to hang around, entertain mourners, whittle away time with food, drink, and games. They were the perfect time to tell stories of the person who died, to share any possible memory you had of them while they were no longer there.