The next morning Commander Davis received word J.T. was to report to General Brooks in D.C.
On the long train ride, J.T. stared out the window and thought of the things that could be done in Lanconia. With the money from the uranium, schools could be built—maybe even a university. The countryside was so beautiful that he was sure there was some way to attract tourists.
The more he thought, the more depressed he became. He wondered if Aria was having a good time with Count Julian.
In Washington, General Brooks said J.T. was a disappointment to America, that America needed him in Lanconia.
J.T. made a halfhearted attempt at explaining that Aria could not put an American on the throne beside her, that the people wouldn’t accept an American. She would have to abdicate. “Unless the people asked for me,” J.T. mumbled.
“And you didn’t stay there to fight,” the general said with disgust. General Brooks sent him home to Maine until he could find a “suitable” assignment for him—which J.T. guessed was going to be either the front line or the worst desk job in the military. J.T. didn’t care which.
He went home but he wasn’t glad to be home. Nothing seemed to cheer him, not seeing his family or the sea, not rowing out to an island alone, nothing.
“Get out of the way.”
J.T. looked up to see his brother Adam wheeling his chair toward him, Adam’s healing leg stuck out straight in front of him. He had very little sympathy for J.T.’s sulks and moodiness, especially since J.T. refused to talk about what was bothering him.
“There’s a special delivery letter for you from General Brooks,” Adam said, tossing an envelope in J.T.’s lap.
“Orders,” J.T. mumbled, not caring much, not looking at the letter.
Adam leaned over and snatched the envelope. “I’m interested in where you’re going. Maybe they’re sending you to hell to use your sunny disposition to further punish the occupants.” He opened the envelope. “It’s a clipping of a newspaper article. Hey! It’s about you. It says the people of Lanconia petitioned President Roosevelt for your return to their country. I’m glad somebody wants y
ou.”
It took J.T. a moment to react. He snatched the paper from Adam’s hands. “They asked for me,” he said softly. “The people of Lanconia asked for me.”
Adam knew the basics of what J.T. had been through in Lanconia. “It says they want you to tell them about raisins and cars. They did not say they wanted you for their king.”
For the first time in many days there was life in J.T.’s eyes. “But maybe there’s a loophole in their constitution, maybe there isn’t a constitution, maybe the people wouldn’t mind an American king.” J.T. stood.
“I thought you didn’t want to be king. Bill Frazier told Dad you hated the idea. I would. No freedom, always shaking hands, some tight-lipped queen for a wife, tea parties.”
“You don’t know anything!” J.T. shouted at his brother. “You don’t know what it’s like to be needed, to be necessary. That place needs me and”—he paused—“and I need Lanconia—and Aria.” He started out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“Home,” J.T. shouted. “Home to my wife. They may not let me be king, but I’m going to die fighting for the right.”
Adam laughed and tried to scratch under his cast.
* * *
Aria turned to see Lieutenant Montgomery standing at the edge of the platform.
Anger filled her so she could barely speak, but she continued reading, a tremor in her voice.
He walked to the podium and put his head between her and the audience, his mouth close to the microphone.
“People of Lanconia,” he said, ignoring Aria, “I want to make an announcement. A few weeks ago your princess went to America. She was gone a long time and you were told that she had been ill. She was not. What took her away from you so long was her marriage to me.”
Aria tried to push him away but he didn’t budge as the crowd began to murmur in disbelief.
“I know I’m an American,” J.T. said, “and I know I’m not of royal blood, but if you’ll have me, I’ll be your king.”
The crowd was so stunned that no one spoke until one man yelled, “What does Princess Aria say?”
“No!” Aria said, and J.T. looked at her. “You went off and left me. I could never trust you to—”