CHAPTER SIX – HATTIE #2
For a moment, I can almost kid myself into believing that it’s for me.
That he sees beyond the camera, beyond the bravado, into who I really am.
Just for a moment, though. One so fleeting I don’t even know why I acknowledged it.
Because there’s no way he did. Nobody has ever seen past the camera.
There isn’t a single person alive who knows who Harriet Sinclair truly is.
And here, in this room full of people, I’m reminded of just how lonely I truly am.
I swallow, lowering the camera, and avert my eyes. “I think we have enough for now. I’ll load them onto my laptop quickly for review, and if there are any that you’d like to retake or any we’ve missed, we can get that done.”
Something flashes across Crown Prince Finley’s expression—a tinge of uncertainty that I catch out of the corner of my eye as I turn away.
I hope to God I’ve nailed this. If I have, it means I can leave.
Because this place? The Royal Palace, the one place I’ve wanted to be since I arrived back in Askurg, now feels suffocating.
This isn’t a place for me. How could I ever have considered that he’d marry me? The little no-name girl who was kidnapped twenty years ago and fought for her life doesn’t belong amongst this exquisite, timeless wealth.
I plug in my camera and load up the SD card. I quickly transfer copies of all the photos to my cloud so I don’t lose any, then flick through them. Every single photo of Crown Prince Finley just hammers my thoughts home.
Not for me.
This place is not for me.
“These are incredible,” he says, leaning over my shoulder. His thumb brushes my hand as he rests his on the table, and I flinch away. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Are these really me?”
I swallow back all the emotions that are rioting through my body and nod. “You’re the only person who’s been behind my camera today. They’re all you.”
“Wow. You really are so talented.”
“It helps when I have such a photogenic subject,” I reply. “Are you always like this, or is today just a particularly good day?”
He laughs close to my ear, and it sends an unwelcome dance of a shiver down my spine. “I think it’s definitely the photographer. I have no idea how we’re supposed to choose from these.”
“I agree,” Oscar says, keeping a little more distance between us. “These are truly excellent, Miss Porter. No doubt that Her Majesty will be very pleased.”
“Ah, I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” I say quietly. “Her Majesty has better things to do than wax lyrical over my photos.”
“No. She loves to sing my praises. I’m her only son after all.”
I turn my head, and Crown Prince Finley grins.
“I’m glad you took extras,” he says, pointing at the screen. “Some of these candid shots are fantastic. They’ll make the social media team very happy.”
“I agree,” a woman’s voice says. “This smiling one—could we possibly see a bigger version of it?”
I double-click the image, bringing it up to fill the screen. It’s one of the last ones we took where he was looking directly at me, smiling. “This one?”
“Yes, that’s perfect. Hm, yes. You have a wonderful eye. It’s not often he’s captured smiling so genuinely, but you’ve caught it perfectly.”
“Thank you very much,” I say, turning my head.
Queen Beatrix smiles at me, warmth making her eyes twinkle.
Oh.
Oh.
“Your Majesty.” The words rush out of my mouth, and I grip the edge of the table to stand and greet her properly.
What is she doing here?
“Oh, please stay seated,” she says. “I’m just here to be nosy. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No.” I clear my throat. “We were just going over the photos to see if we’d missed any or if we needed to do a reshoot for some.”
“Well, they look perfect from where I’m standing. Finley made an excellent decision when he chose you to take these.”
“Thank you. I’m honoured you think so, Your Majesty.”
“That’s that, then,” Crown Prince Finley says. “If my mother has approved them, I suppose all that’s left is to wait for the edited versions so we can choose the final ones to share.”
“Not quite,” the Queen says, stepping away from her position behind me. She walks around the table and eyes me. Her eyes, a darker blue than her son’s, are calculating and sharp, but there’s an edge of softness to her expression as she flicks her gaze over my face.
“Mother?” Crown Prince Finley takes half a step towards me.
“You’re finishing early, yes?” she asks him.
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps, given that my schedule is clear today, Miss Porter wouldn’t mind joining me for a cup of tea.” She smiles at me, and the corners of her eyes wrinkle.
I can’t say no, and she knows it. Not only would it be incredibly rude to refuse such an invitation from Her Majesty the Queen, but professionally, it would blacklist me.
But really, my photos have nothing to do with why she’s asking me.
She’s asking because she recognises me.
I have my miracle.
I swallow the lump in my throat and offer her a gentle smile. “It would be my honour, Your Majesty.”
“Very well.” Her smile reflects in her eyes. “I’ll let you pack up, and I’ll have someone come and get you shortly. Finley, you’ll be joining us once you’ve changed.”
He hesitates, then nods his head. “Of course, Mother.”
“Fabulous.” She claps her hands together in front of her. “I’m looking forward to it.”