Above the Queen

Chapter 4: The Other Signature

I found the missing page in a file that should not have existed.

The archive clerk called me at seven the next morning. He said the commission's old clerk had brought in a box of records that had been stored in a private office. The box contained transcripts, draft clauses, and a sealed envelope with my name on it.

I drove to the archive with Elise in the front seat and the palace security detail behind us. The clerk let me open the envelope in his office.

Edwin Shaw's second page was there, along with a note from my mother. She had written on the back: I thought he would tell you himself.

The letter said the commission had agreed to give the queen a council seat for three years. After the first election, the seat would require renewed approval from Parliament. Edwin had objected when the final draft omitted the review. He had written that the change was made at the king's request, with the chancellor's approval.

The signature beneath the note was Adrian's.

I read the page in silence. Adrian had signed the change himself. I had trusted him enough not to ask why the final version differed from the commission's recommendation.

The clerk kept his eyes on the desk. "This document is not in the official archive."

"Why not?"

"I was told it was a working copy."

"It has the king's signature."

"I can't speak to that."

Elise put her hand on my shoulder. "We should make a copy."

The clerk hesitated. I signed a receipt, and he made two scans. I sent one to the Crown Council's legal office and one to Rook.

The secretary answered within minutes. The council would meet at noon.

When I returned to the palace, Adrian was waiting in my office. The letter lay open on my desk.

"You sent this to the prime minister," he said.

"Yes."

"You should have come to me first."

"I did. You told me the charter was a settlement."

"It was."

"You signed a change no one disclosed to me."

"I signed it to keep the agreement from collapsing."

"You said the seat was part of the settlement."

"It was, until the commission's members threatened to withdraw their support."

"And you decided I could lose the review without knowing."

"I thought we would have time to renegotiate."

"You thought I would be grateful to be queen."

He rubbed a hand over his face. "That isn't fair."

"No. It isn't."

The words came out quietly. I had expected them to sound stronger.

Adrian took the chair across from me. "The commission wanted the Crown to have a credible voice in the transition. I believed the seat would make that possible. Afterward, I believed it would become too much."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you would refuse to sign."

"Yes."

"You were right to refuse. But I thought if I could get the charter through, we could solve the rest later."

"You used my signature to make a promise to the country and kept the real terms from me."

"I was trying to save the Crown."

"You were trying to save the throne."

His face tightened. "You're making a distinction that doesn't exist."

"It exists whenever the throne protects the Crown from accountability."

He stood and went to the window. "If you release that letter, the public will think I lied to you."

"You did."

"They'll think our marriage was political."

"Wasn't it?"

He turned. "I loved you."

"I know you did."

For the first time, he looked frightened. I hated myself for noticing. I still loved him. That fact had not vanished just because I had found the signature. It sat inside me like a second heartbeat, still beating for a man who had chosen to silence me.

"Don't release it," he said.

"I haven't decided."

"You can't take it back once it's public."

"I know."

"You'd damage the monarchy."

"Maybe the monarchy should be damaged if that's what it takes to stop it from damaging people."

He crossed the room and stopped at the edge of my desk. "Mara, I'm not asking you to lie. I'm asking you to give me a chance to fix this."

"How?"

"I'll let you keep your seat."

"Until when?"

"Until the end of the parliamentary review."

"Which review?"

"The one we'll create."

"You want to create a review after you tried to remove me without a vote."

"I want to preserve our marriage."

He had said the word marriage as if it were a door he could close over the letter.

I looked at the two scans on my screen. "I'll attend the council meeting."

"Then we'll speak there."

"No. We'll speak in the record."

The noon meeting lasted less than an hour. The council agreed that no change to my seat could take effect before a full legal review. The decision did not settle the question of whether the seat should remain permanent. It only stopped Adrian from removing me by announcement.

Outside the chamber, reporters called my name. I gave them no answer.

That night, the palace issued a statement saying the king and queen had reached "a constructive understanding." I had not agreed to any such understanding.

I watched the statement appear on the screen in my sitting room. Then I opened the draft and added a correction.

The king's office rejected it.

I sent it to the palace press pool anyway.