Sins of Mine - Mary E. Twomey Page 0,10

my superior height with pride, and today is no exception. My legs are long and bare, announcing to the world that I will not shrink my ideals for their comfort. My baby pink blouse is gauzy, showing off my lacy white bra beneath because I will have their attention today.

To hold a press conference on the palace steps is a gutsy move, but every aspect of this has been thought out and examined from all angles.

As the people part to let me through to the stairs, I don’t once lower my chin to check my footing. I don’t lower any part of me. Instead, I dare them to tell me I don’t belong near the palace. I dare them to tell me I belong in jail.

People have shown up, no doubt expecting me to be arrested.

Oh, what a show they’re about to get.

I lock eyes with the chief of police, who’s easy to pick out in the crowd. I expect him to be angry I’ve found my voice. Sander has been to our house many a time growing up. Given who my father is, the chief and I have been on a first name basis ever since I was a little girl.

Sander was always kind to me, but then again, I wasn’t the one being a problem when he would show up to arrest Dad. He used to keep peppermint candies in his pocket for me, to give me something sweet when he had to handcuff my dad and take him in for questioning.

I expect him to intervene before I can speak. Instead, Sander gives me a bolstering nod.

Is he… Is he okay with this? Is the chief of police truly just here to make sure the crowd doesn’t get out of hand? It’s his chance to come down on Conan Valentine’s daughter for disturbing the peace, but it’s clear he’s not going to jump on the opportunity.

If the police chief doesn’t judge me for the sins of my father, then perhaps there’s hope for the rest of the world to give us a clean slate.

The podium and microphone are already in place, because Sloan thinks of everything.

Whether I’m ready or not, this is my chance.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, of the country, I see that you’re just as ready as I am for a change. I’m not talking about a shift in small things meant to pacify us. I’m speaking of a larger change that’s long overdue.”

This was the other reason Paxton couldn’t deliver this speech. It would look like he was making a selfish and premature grab for the throne.

“King Regis attacked me while I was in prison.”

I pause for the gasps, coiling my fingers around the podium.

“That’s what he was doing when the police came in to arrest him for illegal dealings. You’ve all no doubt seen the pictures of me that have circulated in the papers. That was from a separate attack, but Regis is just as responsible for it, though he wasn’t the one who turned his hand against me that time. What your king did was look the other way when a steaming pile of garbage was dumped on my head. What your king did was dismiss the crimes of people who could fill his pockets and make his rule the wealthiest in history.”

I haven’t deviated from my speech. My notecards rest on the podium, reminding me to keep going, and not to chicken out.

My eyes scan the crowd, locking eyes with a woman about my age. Though I’m speaking to everyone, I direct my next words to her. “I tell you he is your king because anyone who looks the other way when your neighbor is being treated unjustly deserves Regis.” I start talking with my hands, my voice carrying. “Well, he is not my king!”

The sound of applause shocks me, widening my eyes. My obvious surprise no doubt steals any hold on authority I may have had.

I swallow hard, reminding myself that I have a right to my own voice. Whether they like me or not, this is who I am, and what I firmly believe.

A deep breath fills my lungs. “I don’t want an apology. I don’t even want vindication. I want Regis’ crown on a silver platter. I want him out of office, because he threw too many of his own citizens under the bus. It’s time that his son is given a chance to care for the country that’s been so badly overlooked. You deserve better than this