I was the least favorite princess. Before my father, the King, kicked the bucket, my eight older siblings were at each other’s throats for the throne. Historians would later call this period “The Nine Dragons’ Brawl for the Harley-Davidson.” And me? I was the wildcard in this royal rumble, operating on the principle of “It’s not the winning, it’s the messing-with-people that counts.” By making a bunch of empty promises to various powerful figures, I somehow got crowdfunded onto the throne. Now, as I gaze at the three women I verbally promised to make my queens, a single drop of cold sweat trickles down my temple. This whole "absolute power" thing is turning out to be a bit of a handful. 1 My father, King Harley, was on his last legs. It was pretty clear he wasn't going to make it through the winter. And so, my eight beloved siblings kicked off the glorious Nine Dragons’ Brawl for the Harley-Davidson. Oh yeah, my dad’s name is actually Harley Davidson. Seriously. I’m the ninth and least favorite of his kids, basically just here to round out the numbers. But participation is key, and I was enthusiastically participating in the chaos. The most critical piece on the chessboard of this succession crisis was the Queen. King Harley and Queen Beatrice were childhood sweethearts, deeply in love. He consulted her on almost everything. Luckily for the rest of us, she was barren. Otherwise, this whole war would’ve been over before we were even embryos. My siblings weren't idiots. They swarmed the Queen's chambers like bees to a honeypot. I rushed over, but I was too late. The place was already packed with my fawning relatives. My eldest brother, Prince Albert, was on his knees, declaring, "If you support me, Mother, I will formally adopt you as my own. I will build you a grand cathedral and serve you day and night!" My second sister, Princess Diana, shoved him aside. "Albert, your own mother is still alive! What right do you have to be adopted by the Queen?" Then she turned to Beatrice, her face a mask of sincerity. "Mother, my own mother has passed. My devotion to you will surely surpass my brother's. Please, think of me as your own daughter!" I discreetly shuffled to the side, hoping the Queen wouldn't have a sudden maternal meltdown and start adopting people on the spot. My own mother was also gone, and she’d had a hard enough time birthing and raising me. I had zero interest in calling some other woman "Mom." The other princes and princesses were just as shameless. Some promised to make the Queen's nephew a Duke, others offered to marry her nieces. One even offered to marry her entire… extended family of unmarried women. Thank God. For a second, I thought her eighty-year-old great-aunt was about to have a very eventful year. My siblings prattled on, but the Queen just maintained a serene smile, giving nothing away. Suddenly, her gaze fell on me in the corner. "Ellie," she called out. "Do you have anything you'd like to say?" "Huh?" Every head in the room swiveled in my direction. My first instinct was to just parrot some generic flattery like everyone else. But faced with their hostile glares, my rebellious streak kicked in. It's not like I was going to win anyway. I might as well go nuts while we were all still candidates. They couldn't do anything to me yet. So, with an air of supreme confidence, I announced, "If I become Queen, I'll set you up with ten gorgeous boy toys to keep you entertained." 2 The room went dead silent. Then, chaos. Prince Albert shot to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at me. "Eleanor, have you lost your mind? How can you say such a thing to the Queen? It's an insult!" The others chimed in. "What do you take her for? She’s not some scandalous historical figure who needs a harem of young men!" "Exactly, Ellie! The Queen is devoted to the King! If he heard you say that, you could kiss any chance of the throne goodbye!" A few of my sisters seemed a little less convincing in their outrage. I rolled my eyes. The old man wasn't exactly a looker to begin with, and now he was a sickly, wrinkling mess. How was he supposed to hold a woman like Beatrice's attention? Besides, I wasn't suggesting she start now. But once King Harley was six feet under, she’d be all alone. Wouldn't ten handsome companions be a comfort? I was sure the old man's spirit would appreciate the gesture. The Queen covered her face with her sleeve, trying to hide a laugh. When she'd composed herself, she said, "Now, now. Ellie means well. Don't be so hard on your sister." She then turned to me, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ellie, no more jokes, now." "Of course, Mother," I said with a grin. No one took me seriously, but I had successfully derailed my siblings' plans. They left in a huff, each one muttering threats as they passed me. "Ellie, you don't even have a shot. Why are you acting so crazy?" "Just wait until I'm on the throne. You'll be sorry!" "You? On the throne? Father would give it to Ellie before he gave it to you!" "What did you just say to me?!" Within seconds, they were at each other's throats again. Mission accomplished. 3 The next morning, the battle resumed in the royal classroom. Our tutor was the brilliant and handsome Julian Croft, a rising star in the court whom the King had appointed to educate his children. He was smooth, never showing favoritism, which made him a key ally to win over. My siblings tried their best. The brainy ones impressed him with eloquent essays and poetry. The less-than-brainy ones tried to bribe him with expensive art and rare books. I was broke and not particularly bright, so I decided my best strategy was to just annoy him to death. If I could make him quit, all their efforts would be for naught. Heh. After class, I was the only one held back. The jealous glares from my siblings could have drilled holes in me. They couldn't fathom how I’d managed to get such exclusive time with our tutor. Of course they couldn’t. It involved getting my head whacked repeatedly. Julian held a thick bamboo scroll and used it to rhythmically tap my skull. "Ow, ow, ow!" I yelped. He paused, looking thoughtfully at the scroll. "First time I've ever heard a scroll cry out." "I'm sorry, Tutor," I said, rubbing my head. "I promise, when I'm Queen, I'll pay attention in class." Heh, sucker. The first thing I'll do when I'm Queen is have you executed. Julian sighed. "You becoming Queen would be the greatest insult to my teaching career." "Tutor, please listen. I'm just so worried about my father's health, I can't concentrate." "If you were truly worried about your father, you wouldn't have produced a translation like this." I looked down at my work. The text was a classic proverb: While your parents are alive, do not wander far. If you must, have a clear destination. My translation: Your parents are my hostages. You won't get far. And even if you do, I have ways of dragging you back. What was wrong with that? The look on his face told me I wasn't getting his endorsement. My frustration boiled over. I gave him a cold, threatening smile. "Tutor, I suggest you be nicer to me. Otherwise, when I'm Queen, the very first thing I'll do is make you my personal plaything. And when I'm bored with you, I'll have you thrown in the dungeon." Julian's long eyelashes fluttered. He leaned in close, his voice a whisper by my ear. "And what if I am nicer to you? How will Your Majesty reward me?" He smelled amazing, a scent completely different from the other stuffy courtiers. My mind went a little fuzzy. "I'll make you my King Consort!" I blurted out. Thwack. Another hit to the head. I whimpered, looking at him pitifully. Yeah, definitely executing him. Julian just smiled his gentle, infuriating smile. "Go copy the Royal Code of Conduct. Ten times." 4 That afternoon, I left the palace, books in tow. My escort was Captain Marcus Thorne, the head of the Royal Guard. The King, worried about his children assassinating one another, had ordered that a guard escort was mandatory for any royal leaving the palace grounds. This made Marcus, with his control of the military, a very important person. For me, however, who made daily trips to the city's finest purveyor of trashy romance novels, it was just awkward. It had taken me a month to go from embarrassed to shamelessly proud of my literary tastes. It took Marcus only three days to go from respectful to disgusted. The first day, it was "Your Highness." By the third, it was "Alright, smut-peddler, had enough yet?" Today, he greeted me with a deadpan expression. "Smut-peddler. I did some recon yesterday. The book you want, Reborn: I Was a Monk in the Royal Palace, is on the first shelf, third row, tenth from the left. Grab it and let's go." I hesitated. "But… there are other books I wanted to get…" "Name them." "My Husband Ran Off With My Bun in the Oven and Gave Birth to Ten Babies." Marcus's face twitched. "Third shelf, first row, seventh from the left." "A Eunuch's Tale: The Nine-Thousand-Year-Old Virgin's Conquest." "Third shelf, sixth row, fifth from the left." I stared at him, impressed. My first act as Queen would be to appoint him Royal Librarian. At the bookshop, I met up with my two best friends and partners-in-crime: the Prime Minister's daughter, Clara, and the Grand Tutor's son, Leo. Under Marcus’s death glare, I quickly made my purchases and we retreated to a nearby tea house. The Prime Minister was backing my third brother. The Grand Tutor was backing my fourth sister. Their delinquent children were backing me. Completely useless. "I really want to be Queen," I sighed dramatically. "I really want to marry my darling Caspian," Clara sighed back. "But he's just an actor…" I couldn't bear to see her so sad. "Clara, don't worry. When I'm Queen, I'll order you two to be married." "Me too!" Leo chimed in. Clara shot him a suspicious look. "You're in love with Caspian too?" "No! I'm in love with his co-star, Julian." That was… also not ideal. But he was looking at me with such hopeful eyes. I couldn’t play favorites. "When I'm Queen, I'll order you two to be married as well." Leo dropped to his knees. "Thank you, Your Majesty!" Marcus looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "I think all these books have rotted your brain." I suddenly remembered he was there. Everyone gets a prize. "Captain Thorne, is there anyone you have your eye on? I could arrange a marriage for you too." "There was," he said grimly. "But then I saw these books." I guess the Captain was a man of high literary standards. I laughed. "Don't worry, Captain. I'm quite fond of you. When I'm Queen, I'll make you my King Consort, and we can read together!" Marcus's face went through several shades of red, white, and green. He finally settled on green and ground out one word: "Smut-peddler!" 5 I was just joking with my friends, but they took me seriously. They insisted I go see the Royal Seer to pick auspicious dates for their weddings. I was hesitant. The Seer held a special, powerful position in the court. If I was seen consulting him, my siblings might actually think I was a contender for the throne. Which, I mean, I was. I hurried over to the Seer's temple before it got dark. The Seer himself, a man named Sterling, stopped me at the entrance. "Before you enter, take out what you're hiding." I patted myself down. "I'm not carrying any weapons." Sterling gave me a cool, appraising look. "What you have is more dangerous than any sword." I pulled out the book from my coat: My Nights of Captive Passion with the Ice-Cold Royal Seer. He didn't even glance at it. He just turned away. "Burn it." I reluctantly tossed my beloved book into the brazier. I didn't get it. What was so dangerous about a book? Finally inside, my first question was, "Master Seer, can you tell me what day would be most auspicious for my coronation?" "Today would be an excellent day for Your Highness to ascend… to the heavens." That wasn't the kind of ascending I had in mind! "Fine," I pressed on. "Then can you tell me when the old man is going to kick the bucket?" Sterling frowned. "Your Highness, the King is your father." I didn't say he wasn't. "Okay, fine. You can't do that, you can't do this. Can you at least give me two auspicious dates for a wedding?" "Your Highness, I am the Royal Seer. I only read the heavens for the monarch." To the dungeon with you! Sterling sat in the courtyard, brewing tea. His profile was elegant, his aura cool and distant. Before he became the Royal Seer, I used to visit him all the time. I'd ask him to tell me when my mother would come back, when my father would remember I existed. He'd done the calculations and told me I was fated for a lonely, difficult childhood, unloved by both parents. I'd thrown a fit and told him he was a terrible fortune-teller. The next day, he was appointed Royal Seer, which just infuriated me more. I sighed. "I'm kidding. But if I made you my King Consort, could you just find me two good dates for our wedding?" His hand, pouring the tea, paused. He stood up abruptly. "Wait here." He disappeared into his chambers and didn't return until nightfall. He looked pale and exhausted. He handed me a stack of ten slips of paper. "These are ten auspicious dates for a wedding. Take them. I will continue my calculations tomorrow." I stared at the stack of dates, bewildered. Okay, now even I'm starting to ship us. Barely two weeks later, the King was fading fast. He summoned all of us to his bedside.
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