My immediate instinct is to point out that, as much as I like her—and I do very much like her, more than I’ve liked anybody in my life—it’s hasty to be even considering the implications of forever right now. For goodness’ sake, a few minutes ago I was panicking she would think I was moving things too fast by calling us girlfriends. But wording it like that might come across as quite a bit more hurtful than I mean it to. “I think,” I say, “it’s best to take things day by day for now. There’s no point in borrowing troubles from tomorrow. Does this matter today? Are you upset that we’re hiding today?”

“No,” she says reluctantly, and I’m encouraged.

“See? You’re not even out yourself, right?”

Danni nods at the floor. I feel terrible that she didn’t realize the strings that come with being involved with me. Stupidly, I’d assumed it didn’t need to be clarified. The sky is blue, we breathe oxygen to live, it’s the queen’s job to marry a man and produce an heir. But Danni didn’t grow up here. How could I have expected her to know the truths I take for granted? It was my responsibility to make sure she knew what kissing me meant, right from the start.

“Do you have any questions?” I ask.

She doesn’t hesitate. “So, you’re gonna marry a man someday?”

“Yes.”

“Then what? You break it off with … whoever you’re seeing?”

“No. When I marry, it’ll be to somebody who understands the terms. My marriage will be for show, and hopefully friendship, but it won’t be the same as my life partner.”

“But why?” she asks. “You’ll be the queen eventually, right? You call the shots.”

“I’ll be the queen of a majority-Catholic country. A country which has already come right to the precipice of abolishing the monarchy altogether recently.”

Danni doesn’t look convinced. “Well, if they decide to do that because of who you are, that’s not your fault. Besides, you can’t tell me there’s never been a king or queen who decided not to marry and have children before.”

With anybody else, the questioning might come across as criticism of me, and I may have grown defensive. Danni, however, manages to maintain a gentle enough tone that it feels like a conversation rather than an interrogation.

“There have been,” I say. “And their family line has ended with them.”

My words don’t appear to have the impact on her they have on me. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says carefully, “but so what?”