“Your Majesty, we must discuss the issue of your regency.”
I wipe my suddenly sweating palms on my knees. “I am not the prince’s regent,” I tell him, pretending to misunderstand. “It is wholly my choice whether or not to hand the throne over to Rosario when he comes of age. The king named me his unequivocal heir and Queen Regnant.” I’m proud of my steady voice.
“The king was on his deathbed and suffering tremendously, perhaps not in his right mind. You are so young, Your Majesty; not yet come of age yourself. And foreign. Many doubt your worthiness to rule. Add to that today’s terrifying incident, and you must consider that you need a regent