#17

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SEVENTEEN

'A crown should not sit easy on the head.' - George R.R Martin

For obvious reasons, I've never given much thought to how I would rule.

I won't begin to lie and say I've not considered it recently – knowing it's going to happen now and is not more than a mere possibility. And I don't envy the choices that I have been too ignorant to realise my parents have made. But it's here, at this moment that I can't help but consider what is it that I would do if I was in James' situation.

I watch the boy – the man in front of me, the weight of the world on his seemingly robust shoulders. His eyes go from blazing angry, his pupils narrowed and dangerous before his expression completely transforms into something of sheer determination. His eyes turn to me, and for a long, drawn-out moment he watches my every micro movement down to my breath and even to when I blink. And almost as quickly as I notice it, he is pushing past me and disappearing out of sight.

Henry is innocent.

The single thought alone gives my legs motivation to follow him. I jog to catch up with James' long strides, but he is too quick as if he's a man on a mission. I follow him down a flight of stairs and through some double doors where I watch him dip his head low and whisper to his parents; head of communications. The woman nods once to James and reaches for her phone in her blazer pocket.

"Who is she calling?" I ask James, my hand reaching out to grab his wrist and I force him to look at me.

"Everyone." That is all he says.

"What do you mean?" I try to read his face but it's as if his features have committed the look of determination he holds.

"You don't understand. I can see her." His mask falls for a second before he swallows. "Every time I look in the mirror, every time my mind drifts off. She's constantly there."

"Claudia," I breathe her name.

"I know what I have to do, Eva," his voice cracks and he turns to glance outside of the window. I follow his eyes and peer down at the sudden mass of press starting to set up their cameras, the tripods being carried out from vans with their company printed on it. But it's the growing crowd that stumps me.

The crowd just outside the palace gates starts to congregate, their eyes darting at the press and back to the palace in front of them. They are clearly confused by the press' presence. That makes all of us. I turn to ask James if he was the one who called the press here but when I turn, he's gone.

"Excuse me?" I gesture to a passing butler.

"Your Highness," he bows.

"Is there a remote to turn that TV on?" I ask, pointing to one located on the wall behind him.

"Certainly, Princess." He walks over to the wall and fiddles with a decorative drawer unit below it and turns the TV on.

"Which channel, Your Highness?" he asks.

I frown at the TV and take the remote from his hands, turning the volume up at the TV presenter standing clearly outside my house. "I don't think it matters."

"We are outside the Palace gates after we received a request from His Royal Highness Prince James Prescott. He has called for a press conference claiming it is of extreme urgency he relays this message to us. We are expecting the prince shortly. Please stay tuned for more updates."

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