The room fell silent as every eye turned toward her.
Aziza’s heart skipped.
Princess.
She still wasn’t used to hearing the title. It was hard enough for her to get used to the knowledge that Greg was an actual prince.
Greg gently squeezed her hand, which rested lightly on his arm. It was his silent way of telling her that she wasn’t alone. She looked up at him, offering the smallest smile she could manage as he smiled back at her.
His smile was unmistakably genuine, but despite its reassuring warmth, Aziza’s stomach still twisted into nervous knots.
“Aziza,” Greg said, “this is King Alexander and Queen Clarissa of Valoria.”
She hadn’t expected to end up meeting his parents. She only intended to stretch her legs after waking from her nap. Instead, she’d wandered through what felt like an endless maze of hallways before realizing she had absolutely no idea how to get back. Thankfully, Albert had found her before she’d embarrassed herself any further. However, rather than taking her back to Greg’s room, he kindly escorted her to the royal parlor.
Now she wished she’d stayed lost just a little longer.
King Alexander stood motionless beside one of the tall windows. He was a striking man despite the silver beginning to thread through his dark hair. His posture was straight, his expression unreadable, and there was a quiet authority about him that seemed to fill the room without him needing to raise his voice.
Queen Clarissa sat on a nearby extravagant sofa. She was beautiful and elegant. Every movement seemed carefully practiced. However, unlike Greg’s warm smile, neither of his parents smiled at all.
The Queen gave the slightest inclination of her head, “Princess Aziza.”
“Welcome to Valoria,” the King acknowledged her with an equally brief nod. His tone made it difficult to tell whether it truly was a welcome.
"Th-thank you, Your Majesty," Aziza said, remembering to curtsy, barely.
Her knees almost locked halfway down. Please don't let me fall. Thankfully, she managed to recover before anyone seemed to notice.
Greg subtly stepped a little closer beside her. Another silent reassurance.
The Queen folded her hands neatly before her, "We trust your journey was… comfortable."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Aziza admitted honestly, "It was a long trip, but everyone was very kind."
The Queen merely nodded.
Silence settled once more, yet it wasn't an awkward silence. It was worse. It was the kind that felt like an examination.
Aziza suddenly understood what it felt like to stand trial in front of an inquisition waiting for the verdict.
The King finally spoke, "We have reviewed the documentation surrounding your marriage."
Aziza straightened slightly.
"The ceremony performed in Las Vegas has been verified," he continued.
He paused.
"It is legally binding."
Aziza noticed Greg slightly relaxed.
Then, the King continued, "Unfortunately, it is also politically inconvenient." The words landed heavily in the room.
The Queen took over. "The monarchy depends upon public confidence. Our family represents stability, continuity, and tradition."
She looked directly at Aziza, "Unexpected marriages create uncertainty."
The King nodded once, "Particularly when they involve one of the royal princes."
Aziza clasped her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting.
Queen Clarissa continued calmly, "We have also reviewed your background."
“My… background?” she asked, her cheeks warming.
"We believe in making informed decisions." Queen Clarissa said, as though she were discussing the weather. "I find it commendable that you value your education, which shows with you attending university and having an excellent academic record. I also like your willingness to help others by volunteering in your community. You even seem to know the value of hard work, maintaining stable employment while keeping yourself out of trouble since you have no criminal record.”
The Queen's expression remained unreadable. "Those qualities speak well of your character. Even though you were born and raised in the United States."
Aziza blinked. She hadn't expected to get a back handed compliment from her.
“There are, however, other concerns,” King Alexander folded his arms. "You recently ended a long-term relationship."
Heat flooded her face. They knew about Travis?
“The breakup appears to have been… unpleasant,” he continued.
Aziza lowered her eyes. Why did he have to bring up that painful moment? It just seems to keep following her.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.
"Your former boyfriend's infidelity,” the Queen added, sitting up straighter. “has unfortunately become part of our investigation.”
Humiliation settled in Aziza's chest. It was bad enough that most of the students on campus knew, but now total strangers, royalty at that, know something so personal.
Greg suddenly stepped forward, "I don't see how that's relevant."
"It is relevant," the King replied evenly. "It demonstrates that emotions have been running high."
The Queen added gently, "You were married only a short time after the relationship ended. It raises questions."
Greg frowned, "It doesn't change the validity of our marriage."
"No," his father agreed. "It changes public perception." Then the King's attention shifted to Greg. "And your history certainly doesn't help."
Greg stiffened.
"You have spent years cultivating the reputation of being reckless, photographed leaving parties, appearing in countless tabloids… you’ve embarrassed this family repeatedly."
Aziza glanced toward Greg. His jaw tightened and she could almost feel the frustration radiating from him.
His father continued, "Now imagine tomorrow's headlines. Bad Boy Prince Marries American Student in Vegas."
He let the words hang in the air. "Do you understand the damage that would cause?"
“I understand exactly what people would say,” Greg said, meeting his father's gaze.
"And?"
"I don't care."
The King looked almost disappointed. "You should."
Greg's voice remained steady, "I care about my wife."
Aziza's breath caught, causing the Queen to look toward her.
"Princess Aziza," the Queen said, with an almost sympathetic look. "If this story becomes public before it is properly managed your life will change forever. You will lose your privacy as everything you have ever said and done, and every relationship you’ve had will become public discussion."
The King added, "You will also become a target for critics, tabloids, and anyone who opposes this monarchy."
Aziza swallowed. She hadn't truly thought that far ahead.
“Our concern extends to both of you,” the Queen continued. "The wisest course would be a discreet annulment. It would protect the Crown, Prince Alexander, and…” she looked at Aziza with genuine sympathy this time. "it would protect you."
The room became very still.
Annulment.
The word echoed in Aziza's mind, as she remembered suggesting exactly that on the plane. At the time it had seemed logical and kind. A way to help Greg. However, now, hearing someone else say it so matter-of-factly, about ending their marriage…
Something inside her tightened. It was a strange heaviness that settled over her heart. Was that… fear? The thought of agreeing suddenly made her chest ache in a way she couldn't explain.
Why?
Was it because she had promised to help him? That had to be it. She had agreed to see this through. Greg needed her. That was all; nothing more. She kept repeating the thought to herself. Yet somehow… it didn't quite convince her.
Greg spoke before anyone else could in a calm but firm voice. "I already answered this. My position hasn't changed."
He looked from his father to his mother. "I will not seek an annulment. I explained my reasons before Aziza arrived, and they've only become stronger."
“You are allowing emotion to cloud your judgment,” his father frowned, shaking his head.
"No," Greg reached for Aziza's hand. "I'm finally making a decision based on what matters. That’s why I plan to make sure we "
His fingers intertwined with hers steadying and comforting her. Aziza looked down at their joined hands. Without thinking, she squeezed back. Lifting her head, she stood up straighter as she looked towards his parents. The Queen seemed to watch the small exchange thoughtfully.
Then she said, "Princess Aziza."
“Y-yes,” she said.
Queen Clarissa smiled slightly, "I wonder if you might allow me a private conversation."
Greg immediately shook his head. "I don't think that's necessary."
"It is," the Queen's voice remained perfectly composed. "I merely wish to speak with your wife."
His wife.
The words still sounded surreal.
Greg didn't move. His protective stance only became more obvious.
The Queen sighed softly, "Alexander. I have no intention of mistreating her."
His father added, "You needn't stand guard over every conversation."
Aziza looked up at Greg. He seemed to be unconvinced. His concern warmed her far more than she expected, and she offered him a reassuring smile, "It's okay."
He frowned, "Are you sure?"
“I’ll be alright,” she nodded gently.
He hesitated.
The Queen waited patiently.
Finally exhaling, Greg said as he looked directly at Aziza, "I'll be right outside. If you need me..."
"I know," she smiled softly. "I'll come get you."
He gave her hand one final squeeze before reluctantly letting go. As Greg followed his father toward the hallway, he glanced back over his shoulder one last time.
Aziza smiled reassuringly.
Only after the doors quietly closed behind them did she turn back toward the Queen. For the first time since arriving at the palace, she found herself completely alone with the woman who had never wanted her to become part of the royal family.
Aziza continued to stand where Greg had left her, clasping her hands together in front of her to hide the nervous tremble in her fingers. She watched as Queen Clarissa stood and slowly crossed the room, her elegant gown whispering across the polished floor. Unlike moments ago, the Queen no longer looked toward the doorway where the King and Greg had exited. Her full attention rested on Aziza.
For several long seconds, she simply studied her. There was no anger, not even any obvious disapproval. It was the measured gaze of someone trying to understand a puzzle that refused to fit.
Finally, the Queen said, "You are frightened."
“A little,” Aziza hesitantly admitted.
"A reasonable response," the Queen gestured toward one of the upholstered chairs near the fireplace. "Please."
Aziza blinked. She hadn't expected an invitation to sit. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
She carefully lowered herself into the chair, smoothing her skirt over her knees.
The Queen remained standing. "You needn't be nervous."
Her words sounded kind, yet they carried very little warmth.
"I have no intention of insulting you, Princess Aziza."
Aziza managed a polite smile. "I appreciate that."
The Queen folded her hands neatly, "I simply intend to be honest."
Something inside Aziza braced itself.
"I believe honesty is important," the Queen continued.
"So do I." Aziza said, breathing deeply, before looking down at her hands.
The Queen nodded once. "Then I shall begin."
She walked toward one of the tall windows overlooking the palace gardens. "After our investigation of you, I’ve found you to have many attributes that, by all accounts, show you to be a respectable young woman."
Aziza looked up.
She glanced back toward Aziza. "I admire those qualities."
Aziza felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. This conversation didn’t seem to be as terrible as she'd feared.
The Queen continued, "Unfortunately… those qualities alone do not make someone suitable for this family."
The knot returned immediately. "I see."
"No," the Queen turned fully toward her, "I do not believe you do."
She spoke calmly, as though they were having a normal conversation about the weather.
"You are not unsuitable because you are a bad person." She paused for the briefest of moments. "You are unsuitable because you have absolutely no understanding of what this life requires."
Aziza lowered her gaze, "I know I have a great deal to learn."
"Ha, a great deal would be an understatement," the Queen said with a humorless laugh. Her voice remained perfectly controlled. “You have a different perspective of the world because you were raised in America.”
The way she said the last word made it sound less like an accusation and more like a simple statement of fact. Still… it stung.
"In your country," the Queen continued, "public officials are elected. They come and go. Their private lives are largely their own." She shook her head slightly. "A monarchy is different."
She slowly circled the room as she spoke, "Every word you speak, public appearance you have, expression you make, friendship you have, charitable organization you support, and cause you decline reflects upon the Crown."
She stopped behind the sofa she sat on earlier and looked directly at Aziza. "Can you imagine living the remainder of your life knowing every decision will be examined by millions of people?"
Aziza swallowed, "It sounds difficult."
"It is," the Queen nodded. "Can you spend eight hours greeting hundreds of strangers with the same smile?"
"I...think so."
"Can you comfort families who have suffered unimaginable loss? Visit hospitals? Attend diplomatic dinners? Speak with foreign ambassadors? Learn three additional languages? Represent Valoria before world leaders?"
Aziza's heartbeat quickened with each question. "I would certainly try."
“Trying and succeeding are not always the same,” the Queen said, raising an eyebrow.
"I understand."
"Do you?"
Queen Clarissa paused, as though allowing Aziza to really consider if she truly understood.
"You will have almost no privacy," she continued, moving again to stand in front of the sofa. "The press will photograph everything. They will critique your clothing, hairstyle, posture, weight, and words. They will invent stories, question your motives, insult you, as well as your family."
Aziza thought of her parents and younger sister. Would they be dragged into all of this? The thought made her stomach twist.
Queen Clarissa seemed to notice.
"You are beginning to understand."
"I think I am."
"You have lived a quiet life and there’s dignity in that," the Queen offered the smallest hint of a smile. "It is one of the reasons I believe you deserve better than this."
“Better?” Aziza blinked.
"Yes." The Queen's expression softened ever so slightly. "I believe you deserve a life that belongs to you. A family. A career. A home where you are free to make mistakes without reading about them the next morning."
Aziza listened quietly.
"I do not say these things to be cruel. I say them because I have lived this life." Her gaze drifted toward a portrait hanging above the fireplace. "I was born into nobility, and spent my childhood preparing to become a princess. My education, friendships, and schedule, planned in advance, was all chosen for me."
She looked back at Aziza. "However, even with all that preparation, I still struggled."
The confession surprised Aziza.
“You have had none of that,” The Queen said, gesturing to Aziza.
"No… I haven't."
Silence stretched between them. Aziza drew in a slow breath.
"I understand why you feel that way,” she finally said, sitting up straighter. "But… I don't think where someone comes from is the only thing that determines whether they'll be a good princess."
The Queen tilted her head slightly, "No?"
"No, Your Majesty." Aziza met her eyes. "It’s true that I wasn't born into royalty, or know everything it entails, not even one percent of what I need to do."
She smiled faintly, "I'll probably make mistakes."
The Queen said nothing.
"But," Aziza continued. "You asked if I could comfort grieving families. I've volunteered to help families who had nothing. You asked if I could spend hours meeting people. I enjoy meeting people. You asked if I could represent Valoria. Well, if I say so myself, I think I’m doing a great job representing the U.S. right now."
She paused for a brief moment before saying, "As far as representing Valoria, I would do my absolute best and whatever I don’t know, I could learn because I love learning. I always try to put the needs of others before my own. I’ve been doing that my whole life, so I won’t have difficulty do that for the people here in Valoria."
The Queen studied her quietly.
"I may not know royal etiquette," Aziza added, as she stood up. "I may not know how to host state dinners or which fork belongs where." A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “But, I’ll learn.”
For just a heartbeat, the corners of Queen Clarissa’s mouth threatened to move. Almost.
Aziza’s fingers unconsciously brushed the simple wedding band resting on her hand. "I didn't wake up wanting to become a princess. I woke up trying to understand how I'd accidentally become someone's wife." Her voice softened. "But now that I'm here… I don't want to run away from it. I made a promise."
The Queen remained silent, as Aziza looked down at the ring.
"And I intend to keep it," she said quietly.
A long silence followed. The Queen slowly approached until she stood directly before her. For several moments, she simply searched Aziza's face, as though looking for something hidden beneath her words.
At last, she spoke, "You possess more courage than I anticipated."
Aziza blinked.
"But courage alone is insufficient," Queen Clarissa said, folding her hands together in front of her. "You will require discipline, as well as patience and humility."
Aziza smiled gently, "I don't think that'll be difficult."
That earned the faintest flicker of amusement from the Queen. It disappeared almost immediately as she stood up straighter even more than she was already. "There will be many who believe you do not belong here."
Aziza's heart sank. "I understand."
"There will be those who actively attempt to remove you." Her words carried unmistakable weight. "You should be prepared."
Aziza looked directly into the Queen's eyes. "I won't pretend this doesn't scare me."
"Good, it should."
"But..."
She thought of Greg and the way he'd defended her. He'd taken her hand without hesitation and looked at her whenever she doubted herself.
"I'm not afraid of working hard," Aziza finally said, never dropping eye contact with the Queen.
Queen Clarissa held her gaze with the same look as before for another long moment. Finally, she gave one slow, measured nod. Her expression revealed nothing. There was no approval, nor rejection. Only quiet assessment.
"We shall see about that,” she finally said, turning toward the doors.
The audience was over.
Aziza remained still for one more heartbeat, drawing a steadying breath before following, unsure whether she had just failed her first test, or merely survived it.