Beatrice

Present Day

Beatrice could trace her ancestry back to the tenth century.

It was really only through Queen Martha s side, though most people refrained from mentioning that. After all, King George I had been nothing but an upstart planter from Virginia until he married well and then fought even better. He fought so well that he helped win America s independence, and was rewarded by its people with a crown.

But through Martha, at least, Beatrice could trace her line­age for more than forty generations. Among her forebears were kings and queens and archdukes, scholars and soldiers, even a canonized saint. We have much to learn by looking back, her father always reminded her. Never forget where you come from.

It was hard to forget your ancestors when you carried their names with you as Beatrice did: Beatrice Georgina Fredericka Louise of the House of Washington, Princess Royal of America.

Beatrice s father, His Majesty King George IV, shot her a glance. She reflexively sat up straighter, to listen as the High Constable reviewed the plans for tomorrow s Queen s Ball. Her hands were clasped over her demure pencil skirt, her legs crossed at the ankle. Because as her etiquette teacher had drilled into her ­by hitting her wrist with a ruler each time she slipped up ­a lady never crossed her legs at the thigh.

And the rules were especially stringent for Beatrice, because she was not only a princess: she was also the first woman who would ever inherit the American throne. The first woman who would be queen in her own right: not a queen consort, married to a king, but a true queen regnant.

If she d been born twenty years earlier, the succession would have jumped over her and skipped to Jeff. But her grandfather had famously abolished that centuries-­old law, dictating that in all subsequent generations, the throne would pass to the oldest child, not the oldest boy.

Beatrice let her gaze drift over the conference table before her. It was littered with papers and scattered cups of coffee that had long since gone cold. Today s was the last Cabinet session until January, which meant it had been filled with year-­end reports and long spreadsheets of analysis.

The Cabinet meetings always took place here in the Star Chamber, named for the gilded stars painted on its blue walls, and the famous star-­shaped oculus overhead. Winter sunlight poured through it to dapple invitingly over the table. Not that Beatrice would get to enjoy it. She rarely had time to go outside, except on the days she rose before dawn to join her father on his run through the capital, flanked by their security officers.

For a brief and uncharacteristic moment, she wondered what her siblings were doing right now, if they were back yet from their whirlwind trip through East Asia. Samantha and Jeff ­twins, and three years younger than Beatrice ­were a dangerous pair. They were lively and spontaneous, full of bad ideas, and with far too much power to act on them. Now, six months after they d finished high school, it was clear that neither of them knew what to do with themselves ­except celebrate the fact that they were eighteen and could legally drink.

No one ever expected anything of the twins. All the expectation, in the family and really in the world, was focused like a white-­hot spotlight on Beatrice.

At last the High Constable finished his report. The king gave a gracious nod and stood. Thank you, Jacob. If there is no further business, that concludes today s meeting.

Everyone rose to their feet and began to shuffle out of the room, chatting about tomorrow s ball or their holiday plans. They seemed to have temporarily set aside their political rivalries ­the king kept his Cabinet evenly divided between t

Katharine McGee is the New York Times bestselling author of American Royals and the Thousandth Floor trilogy. She studied English and French literature at Princeton University and has an MBA from Stanford. She now lives in Houston with her husband. Visit her online at katharinemcgee.com. Follow her at @katharinemcgee.