Lunch occurred in silence. Seated in the casual dining room, my family and I ate quietly with the plates clattering softly as the servants changed courses. Looking up from my plate, I spared a glance at my father. He was a meticulous eater, holding his knife and fork at precise angles to effectively cut his beef. Spearing a slice, he brought his fork to his mouth, chewing in concise bites. I slumped in my chair and pushed my half-eaten plate away. Analiese looked questioningly at me. I shook my head.

The palace usually didn't serve lunch. Only on these special days when my father was free from his responsibilities did we congregate as a family. Every other day, we had breakfast and dinner, skipping lunch so that we could "maintain our waistlines," as Mother liked to say. When I was a child, I loved lunches. I used to actively wait for them. Then, I filled the quiet with colorful daydreams. I was easily pacified by my father's presence, mistaking the silence and tension for normalcy.

But time had passed, and these days, I counted each minute of the hour until lunch was over, and I could leave. As much as I missed my father while he was away, I never made much effort to make the most out of our time together while he was here. Talking to him about my day, as if he were my peer, seemed ludicrous. Everything I did seemed so mundane and trivial compared to what he did. He was the Citizen Principia, the First Citizen, of our state, Verium, the direct descendent of Navarie, my great-great-grandfather, the man who had started it all.

So what if he never had time for me or ever bothered to ask me about my day? He had important things to do, important decisions to make. It shouldn't matter so much to me that he let his responsibilities consume his life. Analiese wasn't bothered. She never was, so why was I?

My father sipped his water. After setting his glass on the table, he smiled and cleared his throat. I looked up.

"Analiese, Celeste," he said, "I have an announcement to make." He snapped his fingers once, and the servants fled the room, closing the door behind them.

"Is it about why you returned so early?" I asked. Father paused.

"Did I ask you to speak, Celeste?"

He waited until I shook my head "no".

"Then, it is best to stay silent."

I felt heat bloom across my cheeks.

Swirling his glass in his hand, he continued, "I've settled the negotiations for both of your engagements. Analiese, you will be married to King Philippe of Elbonia, and Celeste, you will be married to Kassel Elijah Bauer of West Pacifica. Of course, Analiese will marry first." He glanced at my sister. "Your wedding will take place in one year, and Celeste's wedding will succeed yours two months later."

Analiese and I stared at each other, blinking at the unexpected news. She spoke first. Nodding at Father and Mother, she said, "Thank you for providing me a good match."

I murmured my thanks but added. "Father, don't you think that it's too soon." When his eyes bore impassively into mine, I said, "For me, that is. I mean..." I floundered.

He drew up in his chair. His back straightened, and his eyes narrowed. "You find fault in my judgement?

"Never," I said, shaking my head. "Only...I'm still very young, only sixteen."

"And we were what," he glanced at my mother, "fourteen when we were engaged and eighteen when we married? The same age you'll be on your wedding."

My mouth worked, but no sounds emitted. I couldn't find a logical reason to say no. I took in my mother. She sat at my father's side with flat eyes, lighting her cigarette and bringing it to her mouth. Father frowned at her, raising a napkin to his nose and eyeing the cigarette with a grimace. "Elaine," was all he said, but it was enough to make my mother extinguish her cigarette by flicking it inside his glass. The water inside splashed, wetting his hands. "Quite mature," he said as he wiped his hands. She didn't respond.

I watched their exchange, recalling my mother's violent tantrums and his stony silences whenever they crossed paths. I didn't want to be like them. I didn't want their life to be my own.

Analiese spoke up. "When will the formal announcement be made?"

He smiled at her. "At the ball we are hosting one week from today. The best families from the city will come, along with our allies." He pushed his chair out and stood up. "Lunch is adjourned; you are all dismissed."

I jumped to my feet. "But, Father," I blurted out. "I don't want to marry." Mother and Analiese stilled in their seats. "Not yet, not so soon. Isn't there a way to delay this?"

"Celeste, I've already signed the contracts."

I picked at the edge of the tablecloth, unraveling the threads so that they fell away from each other. The movement made the drinks slosh in their glasses. "Without my consent?"

Frowning over the shaking cups, he willed them to still. Tone implacable, he said, "Your consent is immaterial."

He started toward the door. I followed him, grabbing onto his coat and stopping him short. "Father," I pleaded, "I just need more time." 

He lowered his voice. His commanding baritone wrapped around me in a fierce whisper. "What you think you need is insignificant, Celeste. I know about you, and I know about that boy, Jack." At the sound of my secret flowing from my father's lips, I froze. "I know what you do, what you have been doing with him every eighteenth for the past thirteen months. And all this while, I've allowed you to continue to do what you were so determined to do with the expectation that when you were finally given direction, you'd give up your childish desires and accept your responsibilities, like your sister."

Disappointment dulled his eyes as he surveyed me. "I see now that I was wrong to have allowed you even that measure of fun. Now hear me, Celeste, when I say that you will marry. And you will be glad to do so. Whatever wants or wishes will change or be crushed. You will do what I demand of you. Do you understand me?"

When I nodded my head and gave my assent, he lifted his hand to my cheek and sighed. "I only want the best for you." 

I pulled away from him. "Yes, Father."

He strode out the door, and not once did he look back.