The Kensington Palace, residence of members of the British royal family, stood beside Hyde Park, one of the largest parks in London.
Compared with other royal palaces it felt slightly modest. Yet the vast expanse of Hyde Park stretching behind it quickly dispelled that impression.
More than anything, the palace carried a distinct gravity simply because members of Britain's royal family lived there.
Inside one of Kensington Palace's delicate drawing rooms, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of tea.
Two women were conversing.
To be precise, the elegant middle-aged lady did most of the talking while the younger girl mainly listened.
Anyone witnessing Cecilia chatting warmly with the young princess would surely feel a surge of envy.
After all, if the nobles who wished for even a single conversation with that girl were lined up, the queue could probably circle Kensington Palace itself.
The girl sipping her tea quietly while listening was none other than Alexandrina Victoria of Hanover, first in the line of succession to the British throne.
"…Really? That's fascinating."
"I told you it was remarkable, didn't I?"
Victoria mostly listened, but that was not because she lacked interest.
On the contrary—she greatly enjoyed Cecilia's stories.
Though Cecilia had never formally been accepted as a member of the royal family, Victoria secretly regarded her as something close to family.
Cecilia's husband, the Duke of Sussex, was considered a bit of an eccentric within the royal household. But to Victoria, he was the best kind of uncle.
He was one of the few people who had openly opposed the absurdly strict system used to raise her—the so-called Kensington System.
That system, designed by Victoria's mother, the Duchess of Kent, and her confidant John Conroy, was something that called itself education but in truth functioned as confinement.
The official reasoning sounded respectable enough:
Victoria is the likely heir to the British throne. Therefore she must be raised under strict discipline from childhood.
Under that justification, Victoria grew up under suffocating supervision.
She was never allowed to be alone.
Even when sleeping, her mother or a caretaker had to remain in the same room.
Privacy did not exist.
She rarely interacted with other members of the royal family—sometimes not even with the King himself. Tutors were allowed only after approval from her mother or Conroy.
In reality, it was little more than child abuse designed to ensure that the young princess would grow completely dependent on her mother, who clearly dreamed of becoming regent.
"So I hear you'll be traveling through the Thames Valley soon?" Cecilia asked. "A little outing will surely lift your spirits."
"Perhaps," Victoria replied with a faint smile. "Though my mother will accompany me, so I'm not sure how enjoyable it will be."
"Well, at least you'll be able to leave these suffocating rooms for a while."
Victoria chuckled softly.
"Hyde Park alone is already vast. But if I'm not allowed to walk freely, what difference does space make?"
Cecilia said nothing.
Instead, she simply poured Victoria another cup of tea.
That was one of the reasons Victoria liked her.
At first she had assumed Cecilia was merely another opportunist aligned with her mother. That assumption had been unavoidable—every person granted a private audience with her had been exactly that.
Surely Cecilia had flattered her mother, telling her she was the only suitable future regent for Britain.
Later Victoria learned Cecilia had even used her Irish background to build sympathy with the Duchess of Kent, who herself had come from abroad.
It suggested a surprisingly calculating mind beneath her gentle appearance.
And yet the very first thing Cecilia had said when they met was:
"The Duchess of Kent will never become regent. Please live your own life, Princess."
Victoria could still remember bursting into laughter from sheer disbelief.
"By the way," Victoria said, "do you really think the Factory Act will pass so smoothly?"
"Of course," Cecilia replied cheerfully. "My nephew has never been wrong about anything."
"And that nephew is also the one who told you how to win my mother's favor, correct?"
"Yes—Killian Gore. I've mentioned him before, haven't I? He's incredibly handsome, brilliant, charming, kind, and such a gallant boy. And he's so considerate. The other day he—"
Cecilia had only one flaw.
Perhaps because she had no children of her own, whenever she began talking about her nephew she lost all restraint.
Still, Victoria did not mind.
Thanks to those stories she often learned fascinating things.
Because of the cursed Kensington System, she had been largely prevented from studying politics or social issues within her own country.
Her tutor Baroness Lehzen had at least taught her the basics of constitutional law and politics, preventing her from being completely ignorant.
But Victoria's curiosity about newspapers, politics, and society was insatiable.
So Cecilia's stories about her nephew were like precious gifts.
The discussion of the Factory Act, for instance.
Victoria had never imagined that such harsh conditions existed in her own country.
Sometimes Cecilia even shared strange tales Killian had told about the mysterious East.
Those stories alone brought Victoria immense comfort.
"Oh! I almost forgot the most important thing," Cecilia suddenly exclaimed.
"There's no hurry," Victoria said. "You have plenty of time."
"I heard that your trip includes a visit to Eton College?"
"Yes," Victoria replied. "I believe I'll meet some students there. It's supposed to be the school attended by the brightest young men in the country."
"Well, my nephew has been studying at Eton since last year. I believe he's about a year younger than you. If you're lucky, you might meet him during your visit."
Victoria's teacup paused halfway to her lips.
"I do remember you mentioning that."
"Yes. He's always been intelligent—but more importantly he has excellent character. From the very first day we met he was so thoughtful toward me. He even said that if it meant recognizing my marriage, he wouldn't mind losing his inheritance of the earldom."
Victoria had heard that story so many times she could no longer count.
Still, Cecilia spoke about it with such emotion every time that Victoria could not help smiling.
Naturally, she became curious about this Killian Gore.
What kind of person could inspire such affection from Cecilia—one of the few people who brought her genuine joy?
If fortune allowed, she might find out during this trip.
"…Cecilia," Victoria said at last.
There was one question she could no longer suppress.
"Is your nephew really that handsome?"
"Of course!"
Cecilia nodded instantly, as if by reflex.
Victoria smiled faintly.
Ever since childhood she had possessed a particular fondness for attractive people.
But she did not consider that strange.
After all, everyone liked beautiful faces.
She was simply a little more honest about it.
* * *
Today I had taken unusual care with my uniform.
The collar was perfectly pressed.My white tie was spotless.
After all, the woman most likely to become the future Queen of Britain was visiting today.
And compared to the rest of the students—
I had barely made any effort at all.
The boys of Eton College had spent the morning obsessively grooming themselves.
"Killian, how do I look? Be honest. What if the princess sees me and falls in love?"
"That would be quite an honor, wouldn't it?" I said dryly. "You're the son of a duke, Robert. Stand proudly."
"Hey, Princess Victoria isn't just some ordinary princess," Robert protested. "You know she's first in line to the throne. If the King never produces an heir, she'll become Queen."
"That's true. I'm curious to see what she's like myself."
Robert had spent two hours styling his hair.
And I had hired a private cricket trainer and trained like a madman.
All for today's event.
Fortunately, Aunt Cecilia had given me valuable information about Victoria's personality.
Without that, I might have wasted effort like the rest of these students.
"…Alright," Robert said at last. "Ready. Let's head out. But you seem unusually relaxed."
"I've done everything I can."
"Life really is unfair. Handsome men have it easy."
We stepped outside.
The sky was perfectly clear.
The streets of the town were filled with Eton students in immaculate uniforms.
The townspeople had also gathered, eager to see the future Queen pass through.
"By the way, Killian," Robert said, "you're the top student among the new boys, right? Doesn't that mean you might actually meet the princess?"
"There are five academic blocks. She won't meet every top student. I'm not expecting much."
Eton divided students into five blocks: F, E, D, C, and B.
F-block contained the youngest students.
Since I was a new student, I belonged to F-block, and I had scored the highest marks in every exam so far.
There was a rumor that Victoria might have tea with the top students.
But rumors were rumors.
More importantly, the extremely controlling Duchess of Kent would never allow Victoria to freely meet five students.
Which meant standing out was essential.
And every student here clearly understood that.
The upcoming cricket matches—scheduled for Victoria to watch—would probably feel like war.
Boys at this age were simple creatures.
Even Robert, who pretended not to care, had secretly practiced batting.
"Good lord," Robert muttered. "Were there always this many people in this town? We can barely move."
The crowd filled the streets.
We pushed through the mass of people with great difficulty.
"Killian! Robert! Our house will wave the flags from here!"
Our house master hurried over and pulled us to the designated area.
Thanks to Robert's status as the Duke of Rutland's son, we ended up standing in a perfect position to see Victoria's carriage.
The preparations were already complete.
Teachers stared tensely down the road.
Students held their breath, ready to erupt into cheers.
Boom!
A drum sounded.
Then instruments announced the arrival of the distinguished guest.
"WAAAAAAAH!"
"Princess Victoria!"
"Long live the princess!"
The crowd roared even before the carriage appeared.
Moments later a magnificent carriage approached slowly from the distance.
The closer it came, the louder the cheers grew.
At the town entrance the carriage finally stopped.
The Head Master of Eton, John Keate, stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
The carriage door opened.
Three women descended with the help of attendants.
The Duchess of Kent.
Baroness Lehzen.
And finally—
Victoria.
She was slightly smaller than most girls her age, yet carried herself with surprising grace and firmness.
Her pale skin contrasted with soft auburn hair and deep blue eyes.
The girl destined to become Britain's future queen smiled gently and waved at the assembled students.
"WAAAAAAH!"
"She looked at me!"
"No, she looked at me!"
Even elite students were still boys.
While the others shouted excitedly, I felt something different.
Knowing her circumstances, that smile looked faintly lonely.
As if someone who had lived in confinement had finally stepped outside for a moment of air.
…Wait.
What if Aunt Cecilia had exaggerated too much about me?
She did have a habit of bragging.
Just then Victoria turned her head, as though searching for something.
Her gaze slowly swept across the crowd.
And stopped.
Right where Robert and I were enthusiastically waving our flags.
For a moment she continued looking.
Is she… looking at me?
Then she calmly turned away toward the headmaster.
…Of course not.
I almost became just as ridiculous as the boys I'd been laughing at.
As I sighed in relief, John Keate began the welcome speech and announced the day's schedule.
Victoria listened politely, her expression perfectly composed—just as it had been when she arrived.