Spring Feve

by Emerald Wright

  “Lady Hannah.”

  She turned, met the neutral eyes of a man of indeterminate age, dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket over a button up shirt. Staring, she realized,

  “Oh! You're from the castle. I didn’t recognize you out of the... suit.”

  On palace grounds the real guards- not the liveried men who opened doors- dressed in three piece black suits, with earpieces. Skulked in the background and in general made themselves invisible. This one stuck a bit closer, though. And though he never spoke to her, she recognized his face.

  “Ma'am. This is a popular shopping district. I'm to be your guide, if you require one, or you can use the maps posted on the streets and wander at will.”

  It was the most words she'd ever heard one of the men speak. “I'd like to wander a bit, and we can go from there.”

  He led her out of the parking garage onto the street. She spent a happy hour walking in and out of shops, browsing merchandise, pleased at the eager courtesy of the clerks. She'd realized soon enough that this particular district catered to women of means, and wondered at the lack of snootiness of shop employees. No matter how she was dressed, Hannah knew she didn't at all have the air of a rich, spoiled woman.

  It was maybe an hour of walking before she realized how far they'd wandered from the garage. She stopped, and the guard was by her side immediately.

  “Lady?”

  Hannah moved to the side of the walkway so they weren’t in the way. “I just realized how far we've walked. I don’t suppose...”

  “The driver will pick us up when you're ready to go.”

  She nodded. “Perfect. I think I'd like a cup of tea and a snack, and then-” Hannah stopped talking, eyes catching on a sign across the street several shops down. Without speaking, she headed towards the building. A plain white sign, with a stylized dancer all in black. And when she approached, large glass windows allowed onlookers to see inside. A studio, several young girls at the barre. Hannah watched for several minutes before entering.

  Piano music, a familiar strain even, greeted her. There was a small entryway separated by a threshold where she waited, not wanting to interrupt. The instructor, a woman of medium height, brown hair pulled back in a braid, noticed her and approached after giving brief instructions to the students.

  “I’m sorry, but the studio is closed during class.”

  Hannah sighed. “I’m sorry, I should know better. Do you have a brochure?”

  The woman studied her. “You are... American?”

  She beamed. “Yes. I'm a dancer, actually.”

  A small smile. “Yes, I can tell by your posture.” Her head tilted. “I'm Margarid. There is a brochure, yes. Were you interested in taking classes while you are in Casakraine?”

  “I live here now- I would like to continue my training. Or instruct, if you can use a volunteer.” The words tumbled out of her mouth without her evening thinking about it. “I'm Hannah Fi- Sahakian.”

  She stuck out a hand, excited, barely registering the exasperated sigh from the man at her back.

  Margarid’s brow furrowed. “Sahakian?” She glanced behind Hannah at the plain clothes guard, looked again at Hannah. Took the outstretched hand, slowly.

  “You are Prince Andrei's American ballerina,” Margarid said.

  Hannah blinked. Andrei had told her the name Sahakian was common enough that no one would immediately assume she was a royal. But she supposed a Black American ballerina named Sahakian might be a giveaway, considering there had been enough media coverage of the Prince's new mate for anyone who followed the royals to put two and two together.

  “I didn’t realize anyone knew who I was,” Hannah said.

  Margarid smiled, again. “It's all over the news, Lady.” She curtsied, perfectly graceful. “I’m honored.”

  Hannah’s hands clapped together. “No, no, I'm dying to get back in a studio. I’m used to training every day, and now...”

  “I see. Wait one moment.”

  Margarid walked lightly down the hall, disappearing through and door and emerged a moment later with a glossy trifold flyer in her hand.

  “This is a schedule of our classes. You will dance for me and then I will see what training you need. I have student instructors who help drill the little ones. And a royal student instructor- what a coup.”

  Hannah laughed, taken in by the woman's unabashed grin. She didn't blame her. Even though she didn't see herself as fancy, she could understand how an onlooker might be awed by the Sahakian name.

  “I have to ask Mia about my schedule, but I'll call you and arrange an appointment for my audition.”

  Margarid blinked at Hannah's casual reference of Princess Miahela as 'Mia', but she smiled and nodded.

  She returned to the palace past the time she and Andrei usually had dinner together. Rushing to their suite- he hadn't allowed Hannah to remain in a guest suite whether the Assembly like it or not- she burst through the doors, brochure crumpled in her fingers from excitement.

  Andrei lounged in the corner seating area, a wineglass in his hand as he flicked through television channels. The sight brought her up short. She'd never seen him watch programming before. He shut it off before glancing over.

  “Miahela told me about the wild plot she concocted to send you into town without me,” he said, rising.

  She eyed him warily until the amusement in his eyes relaxed her. He approached, placing a soft, casual kiss on her lips.

  “Your guard texted me to hold dinner. Are you hungry?”

  “I had a snack,” she said. “But I could eat a steak.”

  “It just so happens...”

  He led her to the dining area through another set of doors. It had tickled her, the fact that he lived in an apartment inside a castle. Granted, a spacious, designer decorated, luxurious apartment- but an apartment. They sat at a small table on the balcony, moments later a member of the kitchen staff arriving with a wheeled cart. He must have alerted them the moment she'd stepped in the castle.

  Thick steaks and baked sweet potatoes were revealed along with spears of bright green broccoli. When she'd first arrived, they'd served elaborately plated meals that looked more like art than food. After a week of that nonsense, Hannah called the head chef and had a nice, brief chat, after which they'd been served normal meals. Delicious, and certainly elevated. But normal. Andrei's expression the first evening after her chat with the cook had been priceless.

  “Thanks,” had been his only response.

  “I didn't read Gerald’s report,” Andrei said. “Did you go shopping?”

  Hannah took a bite of the sweet potato, dropped a dollop of whipped butter and tasted it again.

  “I need brown sugar,” she said. “Sweet potatoes aren’t meant to be savory.”

  “Do you want me to-”

  “No, no.” Hannah had to laugh. “You spoiled rotten royal. It's fine, I can eat my potato with no sugar today.” She paused. “You know, I haven’t been to the kitchen. Maybe...”

  He grinned. “I’d love to see that tournament go down. The Head Chef is award winning.”

  “So? Anyway, I didn't shop.” She gave him a look. “Women do more than shop, Andrei Sahakian. I found a dance studio. I’m going to audition so I can be placed into a class, and maybe she'll let me student teach the younger students.”

  “Really? That sounds fabulous. I'm surprised my mother hasn’t roped you into any of her pet Arts charities.”

  Hannah took a bite of her steak. “She might not want me involved.”

  “Hmm. No, that's not it. She has something else up her sleeve. Why don’t you go talk to her about it?”

  Her eyes widened. “I couldn’t bother her. She's a-”

  “Your mother in law, and head of our family,” he said, firmly. “You have every right to interrupt her. She's up to something. Go find out what it is.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Hannah took him at his word. She skulked o
utside the Queen's office the following morning, watching the ebb and flow of foot traffic from a window seat several feet away. At one point, one of the black suited guards walked over to Hannah.

  “Lady, the Queen will see you now.”

  Hannah blinked, then grinned. Evidently Izobelle had known she was outside all along.

  “This is a unique way of requesting an appointment,” Izobelle greeted as Hannah walked in. “I wish my own children were so polite.”

  “I know you're busy,” Hannah said, following her mother-in-law to a small sofa and table set. A sitting area away from the large, cluttered desk, in front of a large window that let in light and a view of grassy lawn with forest and mountains beyond.

  Izobelle poured steaming liquid into cups. “I've been waiting for you to come see me.”

  Hannah sipped the tea. “It didn’t occur to me. Andrei suggested it.”

  The Queen snorted, leaning back and tucking her legs underneath her. “I'm told you went to town yesterday. Do you know the studio you choose is funded by one of my foundations? So it will look like a deliberate choice on your part.” Lips free of makeup curved. “We won't tell anyone otherwise.”

  “Does everyone know what I’m doing?”

  “You'll become used to it. We all submit to scrutiny regarding our movements. Part of it is security, part of it is the burden of being royal. So you're tired of sitting around getting plump, hmm?”

  Hannah choked on her second sip of tea. “I... well, yes. I’m not used to being idle.”

  “Good. I was waiting for you to approach me. I see no point in forcing you into a more public life until you feel ready, but you've made the first step on your own. Mia tells me you're an apt student.”

  Hannah frowned. “If she has time to teach me, I have time to learn.”

  “Admirable.” Izobelle studied her, head titled. “Do you want to finish your education? You don’t have to. You can go straight into some kind of advisory position on one of my charities.”

  Hannah stared. “I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to work my way up. That way I know what I’m doing.”

  Izobelle laughed. “You can be trained, but I take your point. I'll tell Mia to get you a secretary. I think you should add an academic program to your B.F.A- there is no rush, and once you’re farther along in the pregnancy you'll want to stay busy to keep from going mad with the waiting.”

  Mia called her not even an hour later. “Mother said you need a social secretary,” the Princess said, brisk. “I’ll bring in a few candidates for you to interview.”

  “Oh, I-”

  “You will pick your own secretary, Hannah. You’ll be working with her closely and it's important you form a good rapport.”

  The sound of a door slamming, and the roar of an airplane came through the phone. “I can talk to you later if you're busy,” Hannah said.

  “No, I'll see you in a few minutes anyway. You didn’t know your parents just arrived?”

  ***

  Hannah hunted her mate down in his office. The sheepish expression deflated some of her shock and ire.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “It took a bit of talking to get your father to come- your mother was all set to leave him behind.”

  “I don't know if I should smack you or kiss you.” She looked down at herself, heart sinking. “I should change. They've never seen me-”

  “Hannah.”

  She stopped, looked up.

  “You can't be ashamed of how far you've come,” he said. “If you want to change into a longer skirt and find something to put over your hair, I won't stop you. But you look lovely, and modest. And glowing with health. Any mother would be proud of such a beautiful daughter.”

  She took a deep breath. The knee length dress she wore with a scoop neck and flyaway cardigan was made of a soft, flowy knit. Just skimming her hips and the curve of her belly. Right now her stomach had that look where a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell if she was pregnant, or well fed. Of course with the natural curve of her bottom and thighs, a stranger would probably lean towards well fed.

  “What do I tell them about us?” she asked.

  “The truth, sweetheart.” He paused. “I would have met them at the airport, but I thought meeting Mia first... she has a way of putting people at ease.”

  It was a tense hour. Andrei stayed with her the entire time, working from his laptop. He took several phone calls, moving away when he needed privacy. But eventually he approached again, taking her hand.

  “Come on, they're almost here. We'll meet them at the door.”

  So Hannah stood at Andrei’s side as a black limousine pulled up to the castle entrance. When the driver opened the passenger door and her mother emerged, she clutched Andrei's arm, tears welling. She hadn’t seen them for over a year. Her mother looked around, dark eyes widening when she saw Hannah.

  “Hannah!”

  Hannah ran forward, forgetting dignity and her new status. Her mother enveloped her in a hug, the scent of homemade lavender soap in Hannah’s nostrils.

  “Ma, I missed you so much.”

  “My baby. Oh my Lord, look at you. My baby.”

  A tall, dark, broad man exited the car next. The women scooted over to give him room and Hannah looked up into her father's face.

  “Daddy?”

  “Haven’t seen your legs since you were a toddler,” he grumped. But strong arms wrapped around her, belying the stern expression. “Your man can't afford the bottom half of the dress?”

  “Stop teasing, Jeremiah.”

  “Wasn’t. Send your daughter off to school and next thing, she's in a foreign country. Where’s this man of yours?”

  “Sir.” Andrei came forward.

  Hannah turned, placing her back squarely in front of her father. Andrei glanced at her, mouth quirked, brief irritation lightening his eyes.

  “Daddy, this is Andrei, my... um. This is Andrei.”

  “Her mate,” the now openly aggravated Prince said. He glared at Hannah, who folded her arms. Andrei sighed. “Move, Hannah. I won't eat him- humans don't taste very good.”

  She would murder him dead. Hannah felt her father stiffen at her back and braced herself for the roar of outrage- and then he laughed.

  “Got me there,” Jeremiah said, chuckling. “I guess I never thought my girl would bring home a white boy- but at least you're a rich white boy.”

  “See,” her mother murmured. “It could be worse. But we'll have to sit and have a talk about this... mate... thing. They might not think it’s shacking up, but your Daddy and I raised you better.”

  Hannah sighed. “Do we have to talk about this in the front yard?”

  “Of course not. Show us in, Hannah.”

  High ranking staff escorted her parents to a suite to rest and settle in with a promise of dinner after Hannah, ostensibly, had a nap.

  “That went better than I thought,” Hannah told her mate. “He laughed. He wouldn’t have laughed if he was angry.”

  “I suppose being rich helps,” Andrei said.

  She pursed her lips, but didn't contradict him. Her parents were nothing if not practical. And her father would respect that her man could provide. Hannah hoped her parents would understand the cultural differences and accept that she wasn't living in sin- not quite, anyway.

  They met at the dinner hour in Andrei's suite. Hannah preferred their first family discussion take place in relative privacy rather than in the larger dining hall where the royal family and nobles gathered each evening. The staff had to bring in a larger table and chairs and soon after her parents arrived. She recognized her mother's second best Sunday outfit. A long flowered skirt and white blouse with pearl buttons, her head covering sheer and lacy. Her father was in dark slacks and a blue chambray shirt buttoned up to this chin and tucked in with a gleaming leather belt. They were simple people, and Hannah couldn’t be more proud.

  “I'm pleased you could dine with us,�
� Andrei said, approaching her father.

  He held out a hand and after a brief moment her father reciprocated. The two men held the grip with identical pleasant expressions. Hannah sighed.

  “Alright, Jeremiah,” Rebecca said. “That’s enough.”

  Daddy shrugged, then looked around the room. “Fancy. I guess keeping this place clean keeps you busy.”

  Hannah drew her mother to a seat at the table, leaving the men to their own device. “The castle has staff that cleans, Daddy. I don't do any of that.”

  “Well, what do you do all day, baby?” her mother asked, brow furrowed. “Are you enrolled in school here?”

  “Not yet. I haven’t really been doing much of anything. The pregnancy.”

  Her parents stared at her. She almost blushed and darted a quick, dark glance at her mate who led Jeremiah to a chair and took one himself.

  “Not doing anything, Hannah? Idle hands-”

  “I know, Daddy. It's complicated.”

  Andrei sighed, a loud aggrieved breath of air. “No, it's not. We've been sheltering her.” He grimaced. “None of us has much experience with human females. We thought she should... rest.”

  He looked so uncomfortable Hannah wanted to pat his hand. Her mother laughed.

  “I had six babies and worked every day until my eight month and half days while I waited for the baby to come. Two days rest after the birth and then back to work. Hannah doesn't need to be coddled, Mr. Sahakian. She needs work. Our daughters aren’t made for idleness.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling them,” Hannah said, feeling smug. “But I’m going to resume my training at a studio in the city.”

  “That’s good, Hannah. But what about work? You have to have something meaningful to do besides dance.”