CHAPTER SEVEN – HATTIE
“You don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable,” Crown Prince Finley says, looking at me over the top of his cup. “I’m sure you have other things to do. You did say you have to be somewhere this afternoon.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, staring at the green tea being poured into my cup by the maid. “It’s only a personal thing. I can do it another time.”
“Are you sure? My mother won’t mind. You seem a bit nervous.”
“Forgive me, but I was unexpectedly spirited away to the Royal Palace, told that Flynn is actually the Crown Prince of this country, and got invited to tea by the Queen. It might not be strange to you, but for some of us, it’s quite the whirlwind.”
He catches my eye and smiles. “Sorry. You’re right.”
“You’re not upsetting our guest, are you, Finley?
” The Queen sweeps into the room with the kind of elegance that can’t be taught.
A man who must be pushing his late sixties follows her, and she offers me a wide smile.
“Miss Porter, this is my Chief Aide, Rowan. Rowan, this is Hannah Porter. She’s just taken the most wonderful photos of Finley for his birthday. ”
I stand and shake his head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“And you, Miss Porter. I look forward to seeing the photos—Her Majesty seems particularly thrilled with them.”
“I’m very pleased to hear so.” I smile, taking my seat again. “Thank you for this invitation, Your Majesty.”
“Of course, of course.” She smiles to the maid who’s pouring her tea. “You may all leave us.”
Everyone other than Rowan filters out of the room, leaving the four of us alone. A hint of awkwardness fizzles through the air, and I reach for my tea. One sip tells me this is bloody good green tea, but my mouth feels too thick to ask which kind it is.
“So, Miss Porter—oh, may I call you Hannah?” Queen Beatrix asks.
I swallow. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
Her nose wrinkles with her playful smile. “When did you get into photography?”
“Oh, um.” I pause and set down my teacup. “I was around twelve years old and was given a camera by a… family friend,” I say carefully. “They taught me basic functions, and I fell in love with photography.”
It isn’t a complete lie.
The family friend was less of a friend and more of a creditor to the woman who looked after me and the other kids, and while I did fall in love, it certainly didn’t happen overnight.
More like after I’d taken over a thousand photos to be sold as postcards for a pittance to help Sayana pay back her loans.
The Queen didn’t need those details, though.
“So, a complete coincidence, then? How fascinating. Was that here in Askurg?”
“No,” I reply slowly. “I was raised overseas.”
“Fascinating. Whereabouts?”
She’s trying to get the truth.
How can I give her just enough that she can deduce it? How do I tell her everything without saying anything? Is it even possible?
God, how has this even happened? Half an hour ago, I was lamenting how silly all my ideas of marrying into the royal household are. Yet here I am, having tea with the Queen and Crown Prince.
This is everything I’ve dreamt about since I stepped foot back in this country.
This is my chance.
Can I really throw it away just because of some petty feelings I carry around? Would I be feeling so inadequate and unworthy if the man I was chasing wasn’t the future king?
No.
I know my worth. I know I’m not useless or worthless. Just because my traumas get the better of me sometimes doesn’t change that truth.
I have to do this. I must find a way to tell the Queen who I really am… if she doesn’t already know.
Surely, she suspects it. It’s the only reason I’m here. After all, I recognise her—and from the one photo I have of my mother, I know I resemble her.
I have her hair. Her eyes. Her jaw.
In fact, take away our noses, and we would be twins.
I just… owe this to her. For everything that was taken from us. For the life she and I never got to live together.
“Southeast Asia.” I smile. “I travelled through Europe once I became an adult and ended up back in Askurg where I was born. Thankfully, a family member was willing to let me stay with them, and I’ve been building my business here ever since.”
“Here in St Peters?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Isn’t that interesting, Finn?” she asks, turning to her son.
He smiles at her. “Indeed. I didn’t know that.”
She sips her tea as if I’ve just recited a story worthy of being passed down generations, not a minor fabrication of the truth.
Neither of them speak again for a moment, and I quickly glance at Rowan. He’s standing staunchly at Her Majesty’s side. His expression is completely flat as he stares ahead, as if he’s merely here to listen and remember rather than contribute anything worthwhile to the conversation.
“I have to say, I was very interested in meeting you, Hannah,” the Queen says after a few moments of that horrid silence.
“I’ve been begging Finn to choose a photographer and get his portraits done for months, but he always claims to be too busy.
Then the two of you happen to meet, and he has you here before I can blink. Tell me—how did you charm my son?”
I sputter on my tea, and the cup clinks against the saucer as I put it down. I reach for a napkin and gently pat away the bit I accidentally spat down onto my chin. “I wouldn’t say I charmed him, Your Majesty. More that he felt bad for his bodyguard frightening me.”
She sighs. “That’s a shame. Did you know he’s single?”
“Mother!” Crown Prince Finley flattens his hands on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Making conversation,” she replies brightly. “Are you single, Hannah?”
The crown prince stares at me, as if he’s warning me not to answer.
“Um, technically speaking, yes,” I reply. “But I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”
“That’s a shame.” She sighs again and rests her chin in her hand, fixing her gaze on me. “You know, you remind me a great deal of someone I once knew. She’s not with us anymore, and you resemble her a lot. Perhaps that’s why I wanted to meet you so badly.”
She knows.
She recognises me.
Shit. I have to be so, so careful. If I outright give her the answer she’s searching for and it gets back to my family, I’m in so much trouble.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say softly. “I’m sure it’s a coincidence that we look alike.”
“Hmm, maybe.” She looks at me as if she can see right through me, right through every word I’m saying. “We were best friends from childhood. And, oh, I loved Francesca like my own sister.”
Francesca.
Mum.
My heart. It’s pounding. The most obnoxious thwump-thwump-thwump that echoes in my ears.
“We grew up together. I’m not sure I could have gotten through the dramas of being the crown princess and then queen in the early days if I didn’t have her steady heart by my side.
” She smiles wistfully, ignoring her son’s questioning look at her.
“She was by my side when I got married and when Finn was born. And I, hers, when she married and gave birth to her—oh, listen to me, droning on about an old friend.” She laughs lightly, sitting up. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear this.”
“No.” I offer her a small smile, ignoring the clenching in my heart.
It’s been so long since I heard someone speak of my mother as if she were a blessing and not a burden.
“Everyone has a story, and it’s one of my favourite things about being a photographer.
If I were to take your photo right now, Your Majesty, I think it would tell a tale of how much you loved your friend. ”
“Hm.” Her eyes shine with a gentle warmth. “You’re probably right. She had a daughter, you know. One who looked remarkably like her. Sadly, she went missing when she was, oh, how old was Harriet when she disappeared, Rowan?”
“I believe she was around eight, Your Majesty,” he answers.
“Seven,” Crown Prince Finley says, staring across the table at nothing. “She was seven.”
I glance at him but quickly turn my attention back to the Queen. How does he remember that?
“Yes, of course. Silly me.” The Queen sighs. “Before that, each time I looked at her, I could swear she was Francesca as a child. It was rather unnerving at times. And… I guess I felt a similar way when I saw your photo and simply had to meet you in person.”
I say nothing.
What can I say?
I can’t confirm it.
But I can’t deny it, either.
“Franny was heartbroken when her daughter went missing. We mobilised everyone we could, did everything in our power, even perhaps overstepped at times in our efforts to find her, but she disappeared without a trace. It was as if she’d fallen off the face of the Earth itself.
” The Queen’s gaze never wavers from me.
“She never stopped hoping she’d come home.
Even when we were presented with a body that we were told was hers, she refused to believe it. ”
What? They faked my death?
“Still, she never recovered from her broken heart, and I truly believe it killed her. When she died, I swore to her I would never stop looking for her daughter—or hoping that she would come home.”
There’s a lump in my throat.
A big, fat, stupid lump that makes my eyes want to sting.
All this time…
All this time, someone was waiting for me.
The Queen smiles, and the familiar pain of loss momentarily flashes in her gaze. “Of course, that would be nothing short of a miracle. Don’t you think, Harriet?”
Crown Prince Finley looks between us, bewilderment widening his eyes. “What—”
“My name is Hannah, Your Majesty,” I lie softly.
“You do know that lying to the monarch is punishable in this country, don’t you?” She raises her eyebrows, but there’s no hint of anger or frustration in her words.
“I—” I clasp my hands together in my lap and look down at them. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”
She pauses, gripping the handle of her teacup. “All you can tell me? Are you saying that Hannah isn’t your name?”
I close my eyes. “I cannot answer that question, Your Majesty.”
“Whyever not? If you really are Harriet, then—”