Father looks incredulous. “Are you telling me you gambled your future on the hopes that a handful of gay citizens will push to keep the monarchy in place?”

“I’m simply telling you,” I say, “that just because your circles consist of people who would be uncomfortable with somebody like me in power, it doesn’t necessarily mean the country is united in that opinion.”

I say it with confidence, even though, truly, I don’t know for certain. Henland is majority Catholic. And as for how open those Catholics are to change, or progress? It will, like most things, vary from person to person. In what ratios, who can say?

“Also,” I say, “what I did wasn’t a gamble. I just looked at the devil I knew, and realized I’d rather embrace the devil I don’t. Whatever it entails.”

Mum draws her eyebrows together. She seems significantly less annoyed at me than Father does, at least. “I don’t understand,” she says. “Is your life so awful? Why haven’t you discussed any of this with us?”

“Because,” I say in an icy tone, “I don’t feel like coming to you with my problems will help solve them. It feels like providing you with ammunition to use against me.”

“Is that so?” Father asks. Goodness, he’s patronizing. Do I ever sound like that?

“For example,” I say, “not even a fortnight ago, when you were apparently considering removing Danni from Bramppath in order to stop the rumors. Unless William lied about that, too?”

Neither of my parents seem at all surprised by the accusation, which tells me all I need to know. “It was only to protect you,” Mum says. “We remember what it’s like to be a teenager, and to barely grasp the concept of a future. We were afraid you might throw yours away for a teenage romance.”

“Founded fears, clearly,” Father adds.

“You remember what it’s like to be a teenager,” I say, watching Father closely, “yet you thought that trying to ship away the girl I love as soon as you discover our relationship is the kind of behavior that would encourage me to trust you?”

If Father wasn’t thinking of the girl from his twenties before, he certainly is now. A flash of pain—and comprehension—crosses his face. So, then. Despite his obvious efforts to justify his own parents’ choice, he remembers the suffering it caused.

Then he knows the pain he almost handed down to me.

“Did you know William was working with Alfie?” I ask them.

Thankfully, this does prompt a confused reaction from them.

“He and Alfie took it upon themselves to convince me to become engaged to Alfie,” I go on, and their eyebrows shoot up. And so, I tell them. About the forum posts, and the anonymous tip, the attempts to send information to newspapers, both unsuccessful and successful. The bargaining, and the ultimatums.