“Traded it for beauty.”

We slow our steps as we reach a number of cone-cut trees and stand together beside one, surveying the crowd of attendees. The trees block us from the paparazzi. It’s instinctual for us to seek out a photo-opportunity obstacle, though I’m sure my parents will be furious if they notice. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to be seen on my Very Best Behavior, after all.

“You won’t feel that way about your own, you know,” Alfie says, still gazing ahead. “Wrinkles, frowns, all of it. Once it’s lived in your stomach for nine months, it’ll look like a diaper model.”

This time when my lip curls, I make no effort to conceal it. “Babies don’t grow in your stomach, Alfie, there’s acid in there. Besides, why on earth would I want to give birth to a baby? Ghastly.”

“Can’t you ever be serious?”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“For just a minute?”

“I’m not sure which part is confusing you, Alfie.”

Alfie gives me a long-suffering sideways glance. “The part where your job is to produce an heir?”

“Ahh. Yes, now you point it out, I can see the incongruence.” He’s clearly waiting for me to go on, so I reluctantly give him an earnest answer, though it comes out sounding rather less sincere and rather more sulky than I would have liked. “I said I don’t want to birth a baby, not that I won’t.”

It’s not as though I have much of a choice. The Hennish royal family, like most, is a blood lineage. While I may have an array of duties and responsibilities, the most overarching, the most urgent, is to preserve us. That means protecting the institution in the present, and ensuring its continuation. I hardly need to ask what would happen should I announce my refusal to bear children. Father would do everything within his power to change my mind and, should that fail, he would be at liberty to consult with parliament over changing the line of succession to Uncle Albert. A future monarch who refuses to prioritize her duties over her own selfish wishes has no business being a monarch at all. Not when it’s so widely accepted that the symbol of a strong royal family is analogous to the strength of the country itself. Somehow.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a reigning king or queen has skipped over a prince or princess when handing down the crown, though historically it’s been in favor of a younger sibling, of which I have none. Father does, though.