Not Cut Out to be a Princess — Delilah Cameron
“Not everyone is cut out to be a princess. You’re proof of that, my dear.” I hear it over and over in my head—a nonstop chant, a chilling reminder.
And maybe she was right. My own mother did know me quite well. She was never sentimental or loving, but no one expected her last words to be an attack on me. The crown princess. Her daughter.
Elliot claimed she was just referring to my free spirit. And yes, I did have a tendency to neglect my responsibilities—but I always got the job done eventually. She was always stressed out by my procrastination. I swallow the lump in my throat before anyone notices.
“Elizabeth…” says Elliot, definitely catching my emotional moment. Must be twin instinct or something. Twinstinct. “I’m sure Mom didn’t mean it like that. She probably was just pushing you like she always does—did.” He swallows, running a hand over his face. “To… I don’t know. Make you stronger?”
I close my eyes and take a deep, rattling breath. Her perfume still clings to my sleeves. I press my lips together and shove the thought away.
The door creaks, and Isabelle pokes her head in without knocking, her eyes shiny and red. The bed dips as she clambers up beside Elliot. In the silence, I can almost hear Mom’s voice—or feel her touch. Memories flood in: her brushing my hair, reading poetry, laughing at dinner. My chest aches.
Three quick knocks startle us before Ryan steps quietly inside. Elliot and I share an uncertain glance. Ryan’s never been one for family moments—he must really be hurting. He spent most of his time with Mom, tucked away in the library reading ancient poetry.
“General Maddock told me to hand this to you, Elizabeth.” Ryan slides a folded note across the blankets. I don’t have to read it to know what it is—security details for my coronation tomorrow.
I heave a deep sigh. “Why couldn’t you have just been born five minutes sooner? Five minutes!” I exclaim, pretending to be frustrated. Honestly, I am a little jealous he wasn’t forced to lead a country just because of birth order. I mean to sound playful, but some of that bitterness seeps through.
He doesn’t laugh. He just looks at me, his crystal-blue eyes heavier than usual. He’d make a much better monarch than me. We were only born four minutes apart, but those four minutes decided everything. Four tiny minutes destined me to rule hundreds of thousands of lives I knew next to nothing about.
You’d think there’d be some kind of qualification… a test, maybe.
“Like you would let him!” Isabelle interrupts, rolling her eyes. “You always have to be first in everything, Lizzy.” Her plump twelve-year-old face is still streaked with tears. It must’ve been a lot for her—seeing Mom so limp and…
I shake my head to clear the thought and manage a smile. She isn’t wrong. I do like to win—especially against my twin.
Elliot reaches out and takes my hand. “She has a point, you know.” He smirks, catching Isabelle’s hand with his other. Isabelle and I each take one of Ryan’s, even though he grunts in disapproval.
“But seriously,” Elliot’s voice softens. “When have you ever let anyone tell you who you are—or push you to do something you don’t want to do?”
“I…” He’s not wrong. I may be a terrible procrastinator, but I’m strong-willed. And nothing—not the press, not the people, not the court, not even my own mother—can make me doubt what I’m capable of.
And then it clicks. Maybe she was right. I wasn’t cut out to be a princess.
I was made to be queen.
Delilah Cameron is a young writer based in the United States who creates stories about identity, resilience, and the unexpected paths life takes. She spends her free time reading, daydreaming, and writing short fiction under her pen name. Though new to the world of publishing, she hopes to inspire readers with characters who discover strength in themselves, and dreams of one day publishing a full-length novel. She sees the world as a glass half full, believing that even small stories can make a big difference.