The queen pressed her palm to a biosecurity panel and the door swung inward, revealing that it was almost a meter thick. Sam followed her mom inside, feeling her spirits lift a little in spite of everything.
The room blossomed to life as display tables lit up one by one. Behind the glass panes, against a backdrop of black velvet, gleamed gold and ivory and countless jewels. Sam knew for a fact that nothing down here was insured, because how could anyone begin to assign a financial value to these items? They were all utterly priceless.
This was far and away the most lucrative part of the palace’s tourism revenue: the “Crown Jewels Experience” cost an additional ten dollars per ticket, which almost everyone paid. In the crowded summer months, the entry line snaked around the hallway for hours.
Sam wandered past the first case, the one containing all the ceremonial regalia: the Great Scepter, the Orb of State, the Hand of Justice. Farther along was a collection of delicate porcelain wedding-cake boxes that, remarkably, still contained a slice of cake from every royal wedding. The fondant was solid as a brick by now.
She paused at the crowns and tiaras. There were almost a dozen of them, some heavy and masculine, others delicate and filigreed, including a few child-sized coronets for the Princes and Princesses Royal. Through the first hundred years of America’s history, the kings and queens had commissioned their own crowns for each coronation, until the expense was eventually deemed too great.
Grandest of all was the Imperial State Crown, the one that had been used for every coronation since that of King George III. It glittered all over with stones—at the center was a massive hundred-carat ruby called Heart’s Blood, stolen in the Spanish-American War—and a set of pearls that was said to be from Queen Martha’s necklace.
Sam’s memories of her father’s coronation were hazy; her grandfather King Edward III had died so suddenly. No one had expected George to assume the throne for another twenty years at least.
She remembered the look on her father’s face as he recited the words of the coronation oath: “I swear to you that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service, and to the service of this great nation to which we all belong.”
“Who is he talking to?” she’d whispered to ten-year-old Beatrice, who’d stood next to her, looking awed and maybe a little fearful. But then, Beatrice had known that she was up next.
“Everyone. America,” Beatrice answered.
Sam watched, breathless, as her father reached for the enormous gleaming crown and placed it upon his head.
In other countries, kings and queens were crowned in churches, by priests. But this was America, where the state was the state, with no involvement from any religious entity. Here the monarchs crowned themselves.
“Your Majesty. Thank you so much for making the time,” she heard Teddy say as he walked through the door and into the vault. He started to bow to the queen, who brushed the motion aside and pulled him in for a hug.
“We’re so thrilled for you both,” Queen Adelaide murmured. Sam rolled her eyes.
Teddy stopped short when he noticed Sam. “Samantha. I didn’t know—I mean, I hadn’t expected you to join us.”
The queen’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down at her screen with a frown. “I have to take this,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Why don’t you two get started without me?”
Get started? Sam felt her chest seize in panic. Were they really here to pick out Beatrice’s engagement ring?
Teddy blanched. “That’s all right, we can wait—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adelaide assured him. “You’re in good hands. Samantha is the maid of honor, after all.”
“I’m not the maid of honor. I mean, Beatrice hasn’t asked me,” Sam muttered.
The queen exchanged a loaded glance with Teddy, as if seeking sympathy for Sam’s obstinacy. “She doesn’t need to ask. She’s your sister; it’s understood,” she said crisply. Before either of them could protest, she swept back out of the room, leaving the security guards at the door. “Go ahead; I’ll just be a minute!”
Samantha briefly considered making a run for it. But that was the cowardly thing to do, and the last thing Sam wanted was for Teddy to think he had rattled her. She squared her shoulders and started toward the final row of display cases, the ones that everyone really came here for—the jewelry. One of the security guards unlocked the glass cover before retreating with a nod.
Teddy came to stand next to her. He seemed oddly wary, as if he expected Sam to whirl on him with a barrage of insults any moment now, or maybe pummel him with her fists.
She just looked over the rings, ignoring him.
“I’m hopeless at this,” Teddy ventured, breaking the silence. “They all look beautiful. How am I supposed to choose?” He opened the display case to pull out one of the rings, an elegant platinum band circled with baguette-cut diamonds.
“My grandmother had that one made to celebrate her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.” She wasn’t really sure why she told him that.
“In that case, maybe it has some good luck.” Teddy cast a quick glance at Sam, but she still refused to meet his gaze. Instead she moved sideways along the case, studying the various showstopping jewels nestled inside.
A few of them she slipped on her own finger: a massive thirteen-carat emerald, an oval diamond on a rose-gold band. They were all unquestionably beautiful, but to Sam, their appeal was so much more than the beauty.