A Love that Endures
Page 33
Katy shot Cassie a pointed look, wordlessly communicating that it had already ruined her trip, and David pretended not to notice. He was feeling uncomfortable enough as it was.
Katy turned back to David.
“I’m sorry,” she said. David shook his head, but Katy went on. “I know I told you my parents put a lot of . . . pressure on me. But please don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them to send the visitors away so we can have the palace to ourselves.”
“Please don’t do that on my behalf—” David began.
“I’m doing it on my behalf,” Katy interrupted.
David nodded with a small, polite smile, and Katy turned to the staircase.
“Oh,” he said to her as they began their ascent, “I’ve been meaning to ask: How do I address your parents?”
“Damn,” Cassie said suddenly, turning back to face David with a grin. “I was hoping nobody would tell you. I was really enjoying hearing you call them Your Majesty.” She giggled.
David blushed. He’d known that was wrong! Oh, the Royal Boy Band must’ve been sniggering all the while!
Katy turned back to David. “Don’t worry about it. That’s not the first time they’ve been referred to that way, and it won’t be the last. They’re used to it. But in Lorria, people say My King or My Queen.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Cassie said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything. People do it a lot, and it just kind of cracks me up.”
David nodded. “Well, how do I refer to you two then?”
Katy stopped on the staircase and turned to face David head-on. “By our names. Please don’t think that you need to use any fancy terms or titles for us. I didn’t bring you to Lorria to grovel. I brought you because you’re my friend.”
David forced a smile. The F-word again. Still, it was a relief knowing that he wouldn’t have to call anyone else by a fancy title. Except . . .
“Um. And the diplomats?” he asked.
Katy sighed and turned to begin her ascent up the long, sweeping staircase again. David followed. “Unfortunately, that’s a custom we’ll all have to follow. Their given name and then their title. Oliver, Duke of Esserby. Victor, Count of Burgundy. Lukas, Prince of Belgium. Trust me, I know it’s a mouthful.”
“You’re good at remembering names,” David replied. In his head, he was already tripping himself up: Ollie, Vic, and Luke. Got it.
“Comes with the territory,” Katy said over her shoulder. They reached the top of the stairs after what felt like an eternity. What a workout. Then Katy turned left (which David guessed was west, where his room was) and began to walk down the long, well-lit corridor. Cassie stopped at the top of the stairs.
“I’m going to go ahead and go shower and get changed in my room,” she said. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
Katy nodded, and the two of them continued west. Ornate wall lanterns lit their way and punctuated every heavy-looking wooden door they passed. A large window at the end of the hall showed a picturesque view of mountains, swept by flurries of falling snow. Silence fell between them.
“I really am sorry about this,” Katy said finally, as they passed the fifth or sixth row of doors.
“Katy, seriously,” David replied. “Don’t worry. I get that your parents are trying to get you to . . . settle down. And I understand.”
Katy turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Well,” David corrected himself, “I mean, I understand the pressure part. And overbearing parents.”
Katy turned back to continue down the hall. “Were yours that way?”
David thought about his adoptive parents. “No. Frankly, they were wonderful about letting me do what made me happy. But I’ve had a lot of friends who struggled with circumstances like yours.” David thought of Zeke. “I know how hard it can be.”
Katy slowed to walk beside David. They were barely halfway down the long hallway. David wondered how much work it must take to clean and maintain so many rooms. And what would be the point if so few people stayed here? And it wasn’t even the royal family’s only home!
“Kind of gaudy décor, isn’t it?” Katy asked, glancing over at David as they walked.
“Um. No.”
Katy giggled. “You’re a bad liar.”
David looked over at her with a grin. “I’m just not used to so much opulence. I mean, we weren’t destitute or anything. Always had enough. But I remember when I was six or seven and my parents bought a used sedan, I thought it was the height of luxury.”
“I’m sure it was,” Katy said with a smile. “That’s what I love about living in Cambridge. Having a house that feels like a home. Being able to shout to your friends in the kitchen from the living room. Everything here is so . . . distant. It’s always felt that way.” Her smile faded.
David studied Katy’s expression. Over the course of their friendship, he had gotten the impression that Katy wasn’t actually very close to her parents. Maybe an extravagantly wealthy lifestyle wasn’t all it was made out to be. He considered reaching over and taking her hand in his, a small gesture that would satisfy his desire to be closer to her and show her that he understood. But he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, especially when Katy was already upset about the circumstances of the trip so far.
Unaware of his internal debate, Katy went on.
“Oh, it’s snowing,” she said. A dreamy smile came over her face again. “I bet the ski runs are nice and powdery.”
“Are those good conditions?” David asked. The snowfall now seemed to be only a light dusting, but he didn’t like the idea of skiing on a soft surface. Wouldn’t they fall right through the drifts?
“It’s great for beginners,” Katy said with a wink. “That way, you get a nice cushion every time you wipe out.”
David swallowed. Hopefully Katy wouldn’t find him clumsy or childish while he was learning how to ski. Especially since the suitors would probably be zipping by expertly.
“Well,” she said once they reached the end of the hallway, turning to face David, “this is your room.”
David looked behind Katy to see a pair of double doors, propped open just a bit, apparently indicating the unoccupied state room. There were four sets of double doors at the end of the hallway. One for David, he guessed, and one for each of his competitors.
“Thanks,” David said. “It’ll be nice to get showered and changed.”
“Put on warm clothes,” Katy said. Then she curtsied elaborately, an obvious mockery of the form, and walked back down the corridor toward the east wing. David watched her go, a little smile on his lips at her joke, despite the odd situation.
Once she was a few rows of doors away, he turned to check out his room.
The sight took his breath away. The room was massive, with an open floor plan that included a fireplace, an in-floor jacuzzi tub, a four-poster bed that was closer in size to a football field than the twin mattress David slept on back at Harvard, a reading nook with a small library, a stocked bar, a living area with more velvet sofas, and an enormous window with a view of an entire mountain range in the distance. To his left, another set of double doors led to what David could only assume was the bathroom.
He walked in and saw his measly-looking backpack sitting on a coffee table by the sofa, along with a vase containing a huge bouquet of freshly cut flowers. David let out the breath that had been caught in his chest. At least he had a comfortable domicile to retreat to, if things got too awkward with Katy’s visitors.
He grabbed his backpack and rifled through it until he found a clean shirt, some underwear, and his toiletries bag. Then he retreated into the cavernous restroom and turned on the hot water in a rainfall-style shower. He found more flowers, luxury toiletries, and plush towels and bathrobes. After a few minutes—since apparently even king-sized money couldn’t make water heat up faster in an old castle nestled in the cold mountains—David stripped down and was relieved to step into the streams of steamy water.
I suppose i
t’s not all bad. You’re still in paradise surrounded by creature comforts. You’ll be wined and dined to your heart’s content. And all you have to do is watch three spoiled palace boys fight for the hand of the girl you’re secretly crazy about.
David lathered himself up with one of the expensive soaps. It even smelled like rich people. He thought about Katy’s small tribe of suitors. It wasn’t really fair to make fun of them or dislike them so. After all, they hadn’t intended to come and steal Katy away from him. But while David liked to think of himself as fair and compassionate, he felt a fiery competitiveness rise in him just at the thought of these guys.
Who was he trying to prove himself to? Katy, who probably didn’t even realize he was throwing himself into the running? Her parents, who hadn’t known he was coming? Or the suitors, who might be as unhappy about the matchmaking arrangements as Katy was? Maybe their respective parents or expectations had forced them into the situation just as hers had.
But even if that was the case, they sure hadn’t seemed unhappy once they saw Katy. David felt a prickling flame rising in him.
He didn’t allow himself to linger in the amazingly luxurious shower as long as he really wanted to. He was going to have to get back out and face everyone again at some point. Might as well be now.
* * *
“I forget what the technical term is,” Katy admitted. “But as kids we called it the ‘pizza’ stance.”
She demonstrated with her skis, turning her toes inward to face each other, so that her skis met in a triangular point, like, well, a slice of pizza.
“Good way to slow down. Then this,” she pointed her skis straight ahead again, “is how to speed up. Your skis will look like French fries. So, pizza,” Katy pointed her toes at each other again, “and French fries.” She straightened her skis out.
David chuckled. He’d half expected palace kids to use euphemisms like “foie gras” and “caviar;” at least the casual terms were helping put him at ease.
David had found Katy dressed in puffy ski clothes at the bottom of the stairs when he walked down from his room. He was glad to see Katy and only Katy, as he hadn’t figured out yet how he was going to interact with the suitors when he was forced into contact with them. Should he act adversarial to make his intentions known? Or be polite and just hope that Katy wasn’t swayed by their charms? Neither option sounded particularly pleasant.
Instead, Katy had walked him outside into a bright, clear day (the snow flurries had stopped for now) and over to a snowmobile. David had hopped on behind her—feeling more than a little scintillated at the closeness of their bodies—and Katy had taken him to a large, insulated shed a few hundred yards from the palace. For a few moments, when the two of them were alone surrounded by neatly arranged gear, David’s brain conjured less-than-innocent images of Katy turning to him and slowly, layer by layer, removing all of his warm clothing . . . Instead, of course, they chose their skis, boots, and goggles from an impressively stocked assortment and then took the snowmobile a bit farther, to the closest ski run.
Katy was a natural teacher, even if David certainly wasn’t a natural skier. But the bright sun, the clean, deep snow, and the glittering pines all around them made everything seem just fine. And David didn’t even care that he sucked at skiing. He was having a blast.
“When did you learn?” he asked, skiing slowly (French fries) down the very minimal slope that Katy had called the “bunny run”—which must’ve meant “little kids’ run.”
“I don’t remember,” Katy replied. She looked elegantly athletic skiing beside David at his snail’s pace, her all-white getup with tufts of white faux fur around the collar making her look a little bit like the bunny queen of the bunny run. “Pretty early. Maybe three or four.”
“You must be really good,” David said, catching himself before he stumbled. He was having trouble figuring out how to balance while the skis were moving.
“I’m no Olympian,” Katy replied humbly. “But I’m not bad.”
“What are the not bad runs called? If this is the bunny run, those must be wolf runs or something.”
Katy laughed. “Actually, we order them by shapes and colors. So this is a green circle, for beginners. Then you go up to a blue square for intermediate skiers. Then a black diamond for advanced skiers. The not bad at all skiers can take double black diamonds.”
“Can you do that?” David asked, intrigued.
“With my eyes closed,” Katy joked. David believed her.
The next time David turned his skis inward to stop (pizza), he heard a sudden whizz, and then a wave of powdery snow hit him gently in the chest, icy bits spraying up into his face. David cleaned his goggles with his hands and looked around, wondering if he’d been pinged with a snowball. Instead, however, he found Count Vic standing beside them on his skis, all dark and broody in black ski clothes, like a winter sports version of Dracula.
“Terribly sorry,” he said, his voice thick with a French inflection, “I am not used to skiing on fresh snow. In Burgundy it is much more compact.”
David flicked off the last flecks of snow and stared at the count, unsmiling. “No problem, mate.” As long as you keep on skiing and leave us alone, that is.
“How can we assist you, Count Victor of Burgundy?” Katy asked in an overly formal tone. David wondered if that was classy-speak for “bugger off.” He certainly hoped so.
“Princess Katerina,” Vic said, dropping into a bow. “If it please My Princess, call me Victor.”
“Victor,” Katy replied curtly.
“Could you show me to the advanced runs?” the count asked.
Katy looked back at David, clearly indicating that she was busy. At least, it seemed that way to David. Victor must’ve gotten the same impression.
“I’ll only take a moment of your time, My Princess,” he went on, glancing over at David with barely even a flicker of interest before turning back to Katy.
“Please,” Katy started, “just Katerina.”
David smirked to himself. Maybe he would be the only one to call Katy by her nickname. If he wanted to ward off the suitors, that wouldn’t be a bad power move.
Katy looked back at David. “Do you mind? I’ll be quick.”
David glanced over at Count Vic and felt his blood boil momentarily. Good play, Dracula. But all he said was, “Of course not. I’ll be here on the non-advanced runs, awaiting more tutelage.”
Katy smiled. “Be back soon.”
David watched as she skied away, quickly picking up speed and moving across the snow with perfect grace and ease. Even though he’d expected it, her effortless competence still surprised him; as he watched, he realized just how not bad she must be. Alas, he’d probably never get to see her in action. No way he’d even be ready for blue squares, much less black diamonds.
David turned back to his skis but was quickly interrupted again.
“You’d learn faster on a slightly greater incline,” a voice said behind him. From the British accent, David knew before he’d even turned around that it was Duke Oliver. Where are they all coming from? It’s raining rich guys.
He turned around to face Oliver, trying to keep his dislike of the guy from being too apparent.
“Yeah, well,” he said, “this is my first time on skis. So I’m not too proud to learn where the little kids learn.”
Oliver smiled, warmly and without pretense. “I hope I didn’t offend. I don’t mean to imply that this run is for children. I just meant that, due to your stature, you’d learn better on a steeper run. Not too steep, of course. But you’re expending a lot of effort to ski forward on this flat run, and when you get out onto the slopes later you’ll go too fast.”
David tempered his tone. Maybe this guy really was just trying to help. He was a fellow Brit, after all. And David did want to learn how to ski quickly, so he’d get a chance to look less childish while he and Katy were together in Lorria.
“All right, mate,” David said. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Why don’t you follow me? I’ll lead you to a better run,” the duke continued, either oblivious to or ignoring David’s bunny-slope attempts to escape. “By the way, I’m Oliver,” he said, and held out his hand to shake.
David turned and looked down at Oliver’s outstretched hand. He didn’t want to get chummy with any of these guys, least of all the one he thought, based on their short interaction, might stand the best chance with Katy. But Oliver was being thoughtful and polite, and David would look like a boor if he couldn’t do the same. He grasped Oliver’s hand and shook.
“I’m David.”
“A compatriot,” Oliver said with a grin. “Nice to find another Brit out here.” He began to ski slowly, and David followed him, bumbling a bit beside the obviously better skier. “It’s a bit stuffy when you don’t know anyone.”
David looked over at Oliver. “So . . . have you been here before?” Couldn’t hurt to do a little prying.
“No, actually. My parents sent me. Diplomatic stuff, you know.” Oliver briefly looked down at his skis before turning back to David. “What about you? Longtime friend of the princess?”
“No, not really. Just met not too long ago at . . .” David trailed off. How much of her life was common knowledge?
“It’s all right,” Oliver said, picking up on David’s hesitancy. “I know she’s been hiding out a bit. Can’t blame the poor thing. The media can be vicious when it comes to high-profile young women. Quite unfair hand she’s been dealt.”
David agreed. Oliver was harder to dislike than he was comfortable with. And it didn’t sound like it had been his choice to come here and woo Katy at all. In fact, David could sympathize with Oliver’s position, as another Brit who’d been thrust into an uncomfortable situation in a foreign land.
They reached a narrow line of trees and the bottom of a long, wide slope underneath an operating ski lift track. Empty lifts were gliding over them above, some heading up and others heading back down. Fifty or so yards down the mountain, the lifts got close enough to the ground to allow riders to jump on.