Summoned by the Council

There was a rich, formal voice on the other end of the phone. “Princess Aurelia Valeon, the heir of the Valeon Kingdom? This is the Councilor Dorian Thalric of the Royal Council. Is it to Her Royal Highness I am talking to?”

I froze. My pulse jumped. “Yes... that is me.” I said with a shaky voice. My stomach turned at the manner in which he pronounced my full name. It was the first time I had been spoken to in that way in years, since I left the palace. It was far off, formal, and fearful.

“Princess, I am bound to tell you that your elder brother, King Rowan Valeon, has officially abdicated the throne. He has decided to wed a peasant, Miss Elara Wynn, a matrimony against our laws.”

I pressed my hand to my mouth. My chest tightened. What Rowan had told me in a confidential telephone conversation had now become all too real: official, irrevocable, inevitable. My brother had not acted merely in a thoughtless and momentary abdication but had made a legal decree, which the council had acknowledged.

“The kingdom is now deprived of a monarch,” the voice said, stern and implacable. “There is no kingdom that can be left without a king. The stability demands the existence of a sovereign. So, your Royal Highness, you must come back and take the crown at once.”

My heart hammered. "I... I cannot," I stammered, and my voice trembled. Rowan made laws that I did not have to live inside the palace. I was never meant to rule. I... I cannot simply give up my life. I have exams. I must have duties here. I... I do not even know how to be queen! I... I have worked so hard on this exam; I cannot turn back. They would fail me. Then again, I know nothing of a crown and council.”

Another pause. Then the voice of Councilor Dorian said, “Your presence is needed with the kingdom being without a king. You were born to lead. It is not a request—it is a duty.”

I sat back in the chair with hands holding on to my hair. "This can't be real," I whispered. "How can they force me? I've lived my life. I've been free. I don't even... I'm not ready. I hear nothing of the palace, the court, the council... none of that!

“One of the royal aircrafts, privy to the royal, will bring you up to Valeon early to-morrow, her royal highness. The council will provide safe and comfortable travel and accommodation. We wish you good fortune."

 And with that, the call was disconnected.

I sat there in stupefied silence, staring at the phone, which seemed to explain itself. Good fortune? Good fortune? My brother had eloped from a throne, and now it was being thrust on me. This was a loss of my quiet life, the small, ordinary, anonymous life I had struggled to attain.

I didn't know what to do first. Panic clawed at my chest. I took my phone and instantly called Rowan so that I had a voice to ground on.

"Rowan, I... I can't." "I will not," I responded immediately, and he took a reply. "I don't want to be queen. I can't. They are going to steal everything from me. My freedom, my privacy, all I have created. I don't want this life. I never asked for this. Please... don't do this to me."

The other end was silent for a moment, only long enough to make me think he might not be listening to me. Then he said, in a slow, calm voice, with that same small smile, which I could just feel in the expression of his voice.

“You have a good night as a free woman.”

Then the line went dead.

I crumbled to the ground, with my back against the wall. I could hear my heart beating my ribs. Last night as a free woman. I heard those words repeated in my ears. They weren't a suggestion. They weren't even advice. They were a lesson, a threat in the form of a joke.

I sat a long time, looking vacantly at the notes on my table, which were scattered around, at the half-baked croissant, and at the teacup, which was empty. The little bit of my life that was actually mine was going down my fingers, and I did not know how to prevent it.

And I thought of Rowan. How he had altered laws, bent rules, and broken tradition, only to have this life, just because I wanted it. Perhaps... perhaps I might have this one night back of mine. One evening I had lived, and then my life was no more than a crown, robes, and duty.

I arose slowly and tossed the hair off my face. I took my coat and keys and left the textbooks and notes and the cup of cold tea that had long since gone stale behind me. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't even care. I just knew that I had to recover a bit of freedom—once more.

I moved up and down the city streets with dread and excitement. My hands were clamped to the steering wheel unnecessarily. Each and every known streetlight and each and every passing man reminded me of the life I had made myself and of how soon it could be gone.

The neon light of the club was in front of me, as though it were a gateway to a different world. As soon as I got out of the car, loud music, blinking lights, laughter, and the slight scent of perfume and alcohol overcame me. My heart was racing—not because of adrenaline, but out of feeling dangerous excitement.

 I would be queen in a few hours’ time, and here I am in front of a club.

I gave the manager a stack of bills, a big stack; raising an eyebrow, he counted the cash fast and then nodded.

 I said, “Private room... one dancer.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but my hands trembled.