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NO WOMAN IS BORN A QUEEN, no matter the title attached to her name at birth

Kings are crowned But queensqueens rise

They lift theedy and heartbreak that always seem to follow theh their triued by the burn of betrayal and they are shaped by the constant, cold clash of wills

Still they rise, and thenthey reign

For good or bad, in sickness and in health, until death do they part

The vestiges of that reign are the true inheritance of the descendants For ht is duty, tradition and loyalty

But the two of us were different Right from the start, and in every way

Passion that could tear the whole world down around us Love that would not be ignored or denied Devotion that would last beyond a lifetime

These would be our legacy—our gifts to the ones ould follow in our footsteps It would be scored on their bones and branded on their souls

We just didn’t know it then

Every dynasty has a beginning Every legend starts with a story

This is ours

Averdeen, 1945

“YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER, Alfie She was so das in Parlia”

My father, Reginald Willia of Wessco, often talks about me like I’m not in the room My mother calls it a sorry habit But I don’t mind, especially when he’s proud of me

“Andout the word like a curse “They don’t understand the people at’all Damn fools, the lot of them”

Father’s advisors talk about me like I’m not in the room too

“Eight years old is too young,” they’d said “She will humiliate herself,” they’d warned “The Crown Princess is just a girl after all”

When the war finally ended last h the city There was olden confetti floating everywhere you looked The croaved and cheered and welcomed the men home as they marched down the street in their handsome uniforms

This , the rest of the lads ca

The bagpipes played and a sea of sad faces—crying mums and dads and little brothers and sisters—watched as the flag-draped caskets were loaded off planes in a parade that seeo on and on and on

I wanted to cry too My heart felt like a lead ball, and my stomach pinched from the awfulness of it all

But I didn’t let it show I kept my eyes dry and my face soleet their brave boys And I thinkthere, my words, made it bettera little less awful for them

Just like Father had told me it would

“I’ie,” Alfie Barrister replies from the leather chair by the fireplace

Alfie is Father’s best friend I like hie and round and happy—like a redheaded Father Christmas

“There’s a call for you, Your Majesty,” a servant says from behind me

“I’ll take it in the study”

I hear the library door close behind Father as he leaves the room, but I continue to look out theAcross the carpet of green grass to the rear of the sun-streaked yard, where a rope swing hangs fro as a monster

The cheery kind of monster

It’s my favorite part of visits to Alfie’s Because while our palace has hundreds of rooardens with flowers of every color you can i from one branch of any tree in the whole damn place

I’ood to say it in my head sometimes

Alfie steps up next to me and looks out thetoo