Page 145 of The Unlikely Heir
All the seemingly meaningless formalities that surround this event.
But history has meaning. It binds us to the past while propelling the way toward the future.
“It’s time, Your Royal Highness.” The Master of Ceremonies says to me.
I emerge out of the door, blinking in the light.
“God Bless the Prince of Wales,” a tune I’m now familiar with, having googled it last night, starts to play as I walk along the stone path, then across the lawn toward my grandmother.
I raise my chin, and somehow, among all the faces in the crowd behind the dais, my gaze falls on Oliver. He’s watching me with a frown.
Oliver, who is the most handsome, cleverest, kindest man I’ve ever met.
Oliver, who loves me for me.
Oliver, who by this very act I am forsaking.
My mouth suddenly goes dry and my legs tremble.
Uncertainty swirls inside me, and I almost stumble.
I switch my gaze to my grandmother, the woman who taught me what dignity and duty mean, the woman I am now declaring my allegiance to.
She’s standing with a ramrod-straight back as she watches me approach the dais.
I square my shoulders. I am doing this. I’m joining my place in the line of my ancestors who’ve come before me, pledging to serve the people of Wales as their prince and heir to the throne.
I kneel before my grandmother on the scarlet cushion placed upon Welsh slate.
ChapterForty-One
Oliver
Callum kneels before his grandmother, his golden head bowed.
The Home Secretary reads the text of the letter patent in English as Queen Katharine gives Callum a sword, the strap coming over his shoulder.
Then she places a small crown on his golden head.
Now the Secretary of State reads the text in Welsh, his booming voice commanding attention as Queen Katharine slides a ring onto Callum’s finger.
Next up is a gold rod. And last is the mantle, the cloak that enshrouds him.
It feels like someone has socked me in the guts as Queen Katharine fastens the top of the white cloak around Callum.
Even though I knew this would happen, that Callum came here today to pledge his allegiance to the queen, to officially accept his title of Prince of Wales, I can’t help my body reacting.
This is Callum accepting his birthright.
There’s no going back from this.
Queen Katharine clasps her hands around Callum’s as he says the words of his vow in a clear voice. “I, Callum, Prince of Wales, do become your liege man of life and limb and of earthly worship and faith and truth. I will bear unto thee to live and die against all manner of folks.”
Live and die.
Those words echo in my head.
Queen Katharine leans forward to give Callum a peck on his cheek.
