Page 137 of The Unlikely Heir
As I step out of the car, I’m greeted by Clive.
“Prime Minister.” There’s not a hint of a smile on his face. In fact, everything about his body language radiates hostility.
I am now the enemy.
I’m ushered through the corridors, where the portraits of ancient nobility glare down at me.
When I arrive in the usual room where I have my weekly visits with Queen Katharine, I give a slightly more extended version than my usual bow, this one laced with contrition.
“Your Majesty.”
“Oliver.” The smile she usually gives me is noticeably missing.
I decide to front-foot the issue.
“I want to apologize, Your Majesty. We just decided about the referendum in the cabinet meeting this morning. It was not supposed to be released to the public yet. I wanted to tell you personally before we announced it. There will be severe consequences when I find the minister who leaked the information.”
Her lips purse. “I see. And would you like to explain why you concluded that a referendum was the best way forward?”
I straighten my shoulders. “I’m sure you are aware of the public upswell against the monarchy, and the petition for a referendum is nearing one hundred thousand signatures. I can’t ignore the will of the British people, ma’am.”
“I am aware that the actions of some of my family members have put the royal family in a vulnerable position. I am also aware that you must have personally been in a difficult position when it came to calling a referendum.”
“It is difficult knowing you,” I say. “I’ve seen firsthand how hard you work to serve our country.”
Her expression remains cool. “I was actually referring to your relationship with my grandson,” she says.
Fuck. My stomach hollows.
I should have realized that revelation would come out in the wake of this.
I take a deep breath to collect myself.
“My relationship with Callum has nothing to do with this decision,” I manage to say calmly.
“So, are you planning to quit politics?”
I snap my head up. “What? No.”
“I’m sure you understand how untenable it is for the Prince of Wales to have an intimate relationship with a politician. So, what is your plan going forward with Prince Callum?”
I answer honestly. “I don’t have a plan.”
She fixes me with a hard look, her blue eyes piercing me to the depths of my soul.
“Are you hoping the British public will now decide for you?”
* * *
It turns out that telling the queen I’m going to introduce legislation that might take away her family’s thousand-year right to rule is not the most difficult conversation I’m going to have today.
Next up is Callum.
I step into his flat, and I instantly flinch.
I’ve never seen Callum angry before, the features I love contorted in an expression I don’t recognize. Bright spots on his cheeks, his eyes narrowed, jaw tight.
“What the hell, Oliver?” are his first words.
