Chapter 13
At the Castle
The week of a coronation is less like the coronation in Princess Diaries, my only cultural reference to date, and more like that thing the marines do to become marines where they hike for days over mountains only to finally get a hot meal and a shower and then get thrown into an hours-long ceremony.
I’ve been waxed, buffed, half-starved, and have kept such strange hours trying to pack in all the events around this small island nation. Today, members of Rhys’s family are party hopping across neighborhoods to the different block parties all around celebrating his new reign.
This afternoon, Dahlia and I are receiving the familial award that marks us as members of the King’s immediate family.
Most women in European royal families wear something similar.
It’s like a tag on a cat’s collar only it identifies us as belonging to Rhys.
I’m not sure how I feel about that privately, but publicly, it’s tradition and considered an honor.
Which is obvious because Saoirse is livid that she’s not among the women receiving awards from Rhys.
Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to sleep with him after sleeping with his brother.
Maeve, however, is getting an award for her service to the crown.
Tomorrow, Taylor, Dahlia, and I will all be installed as advisors to the King.
This is ruffling more feathers than those who reside within the castle’s walls.
Dahlia and Taylor have reputations for being wild in their youth, and when I say wild, I mean more like batshit crazy party animals.
Men, women, drugs, and booze. Nothing was off limits to those two but both seem to have cleaned up their acts.
The world is watching and its commentators are not necessarily enthused at the idea of two formerly entitled party animals having the King’s ear.
Which is kind of fair. The world leaders are also not thrilled about me.
What do I know about advising a king on the nation’s policies or anything else?
But again, it’s tradition for the King’s family to be part of his inner circle.
We’re supposed to have his back when the rest of the world will not.
Prepping for today’s block parties is probably the most informal I’ve dressed in ages, aside from the animal shelter where I was cleaning up poop, and I love it.
If I could do this kind of thing all the time, I would.
My hair is down and flowing around my shoulders in dark, glossy waves.
My makeup is in soft pinks and browns, more natural than showy, although it’s more than I ever would have worn before.
I’m in a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that feel like they were made for my shorter legs and round backside.
They show just the right amount of ankle and don’t look too long over the navy wedges with cork bottoms on my feet.
My sleeveless blouse, in a pretty shade just shy of white, ties at the waist and gathers at the shoulders to nip in at the most becoming places is topped off with a light blue tweed blazer over it.
I decided to forgo the royal jewelry other than my engagement and wedding rings and wear my simple gold heart earrings and necklace that were the first things Rhys ever gave me.
They make me feel more like me and remind me of the girl who grew up in New England.
I kiss Leo and Sammy goodbye for the day and promise them a romp through the gardens later and walk through the main door of the suite ending up practically on top of the human Leo locked in a passionate embrace with Dahlia. I believe the British would call it a snog.
“Oh,” I gasp. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go back inside. Tell me when you’re ready to go…”
“No, ma’am,” Leo says, his face bright red. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
The look of disappointment that flashes across Dahlia’s face hurts my heart even though it’s gone before anyone but me can see it.
I knew that she cared for him, but to realize that her feelings for my protection officer run deeper than a harmless crush makes me want to wrap her in cotton wool and safeguard her feelings.
Honestly, I want this sweet woman to have the world.
“Let’s not be too hasty,” I answer. “I’m not going to make you choose one element of your life over the other. Let’s just find a happy balance, shall we?”
Dahlia smirks at me before replying, “You mean a balance that keeps Rhys happy.”
“Yes. That exactly,” I laugh. “Now, shall we block party?”
“Yes,” she agrees, looping her arm through mine as we head out to the car.
The driver holds open the door for us and we slide in.
Dahlia’s dressed in a style similar to mine, only her blouse is pink and her jacket is a safari style. Rhys and Taylor are attending different block parties in different neighborhoods around the island. Our two groups are kind of playing leapfrog between parties.
Our first party is a little farther out but one that is supposed to be a lot of fun. This particular neighborhood has lots of children living there and they have organized this party to be more for kids than any other constituent.
The car pulls to a stop and I’m already excited.
This looks like the kind of school fair Paul and Fran used to take me to.
I remember way back when they called it the coyote round up and had a cowboy theme.
These kids are running all over with cupcakes in hand and flower or paper crowns on their heads.
I wonder if they’d let me make a flower crown too.
Leo opens the door for us, and we file out, shaking hands and meeting the parents of the kids. Little girls present us with flower crowns they made for us themselves and I can’t stop the huge smile on my face as I kneel down so one can place it on my head.
“Ohh… perfect,” she says as her chubby little fingers slide over my hair.
“Well, what do you think?” I ask her. “Am I as pretty as you are?”
“Prettier,” she says with a shy smile.
“Oh never, sweet girl,” I tell her honestly. “You’re as pretty as a picture.”
“Really?” she asks.
“Really,” I confirm. “What should we do next?”
“The maypole!” she squeals. “It’s so fun.”
“I don’t know how to do that. Will you show me?”
“Oh yes,” she says, taking me by the hand and leading me to the tall maypole decorated with flowers and long streaming ribbons.
I take the ribbon’s end when someone holds it out for me and follow the kids as they weave in and out of each other around the maypole dancing and laughing to the music that plays loudly.
It’s so fun and I wonder why we learned square dancing in school instead of this.
The sun is shining, . The kids are laughing and singing along with the folk song the band is playing and I close my eyes to just soak in the memories of this moment because it’s one of the best days of my life.
And then when I open them again, I see the back of a pale blue dress that doesn’t look like it belongs at this block party full of jeans and t-shirts, even Dahlia and I looked a tad bit over dressed when we got here.
The woman wearing it has a long, slim body and blonde hair twisted up into a polite chignon.
She glances to the side. I see the twinkle of an earring that looks familiar and wonder who she is.
I let go of my maypole ribbon and headed toward the woman in the blue dress. I know her, I’m just not sure from where. It would help if I could see her face.
“Your Highness?”
I hear Leo call after me, but I just wave my hand back at him.
Hopefully, I’ll find out who this is and be back to the party in no time.
I mean… how dangerous could it possibly be here?
I’m just overwhelmed with this feeling that I know her.
I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, I just know that I know her.
And I have to find out who she is because my gut says that it’s Lady Thomley, but it can’t be because she’s… well, she’s dead. I think.
Rhys doesn’t believe me; he thinks she’s still alive, as does everyone else. They simply think I’m tired and overwhelmed and yeah, I am, but not so much so that I’m hallucinating murders during fancy opera nights.
God, I hate opera. Who knew? I had never been, but I had always thought that I would enjoy it.
I love books of all kinds, I love learning, I love culture.
Surely, I’d love opera. I did not. And during what I’m sure was a wonderful performance I wish never to see again, I witnessed Lady Suzanne Thomley being strangled by the earl—my husband’s stepmother’s father.
Where is Maury Povich when I need him?
But if this woman is Suzanne, then I guess we can call this loss a win. She’s alive which… yay for her. But then it means I probably do need a stay at some exclusive rehab for exhaustion and not cocaine.
The crowd seems to have swallowed the woman whole. I weave in and out of people milling around, smiling at them as I go, but she’s not here.
“Excuse me,” I ask a woman in jeans and a red t-shirt. “Did you see a blonde woman in a blue dress go by?”
“I’m sorry ma’am,” she says. “I didn’t. I was playing a game.”
“It’s okay. Have fun.”
I move on to the next person, a man in shorts and a t-shirt. “Excuse me… did you see a tall woman in a blue dress go by?”
“No, Your Highness,” he says, dipping his head. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“No,” I smile. “Don’t apologize.”
I move deeper into the crowd and when a hand wraps around my bicep, I jump.
“It’s just me, Your Highness,” Leo says quietly, and I let out the breath I’ve been holding and nod at the fact it’s him. “What’s going on?”
“I saw a woman over this way,” I explain, “when I was at the maypole with the kids. She was in a blue dress.”
“I know I saw you leave the area and head into the crowd. With no protection officers, I might add,” he says.