My patience with the woman was running thin, and from the look on the king’s face, so was his. But he was holding his peace, watching the events unfold around him carefully.
“Say what you need to say and get on with your day,” I snapped at Reina, who had the audacity to bother looking hurt.
“Fine. Your fiancée needs to work on her composure and her bearing so that she doesn’t embarrass herself and the entire country in the televised interview next week,” Reina said. “She also needs to sign the non-disclosure agreement, and a few other documents before the king can recognize the engagement officially in front of parliament.”
I was trying to keep an eye on Iliana’s reactions through my peripheral, but her mask was back on. “Send the papers to my suite, and I’ll review them this afternoon,” Iliana said, her voice clipped.
“I don’t work for you,” Reina fired back. “Come by the communications office and sign them before the close of business or—”
“Enough!” Uncle Demetrius barked. “The young lady in front of you will soon be a member of the royal family. I suggest you step carefully here.”
Looking immediately contrite, Reina inclined her head, but I didn’t miss the way her hands curled into fists. “My apologies, Your Highness.” Rising gracefully from her seat, she curtsied and excused herself, her little minion hustling behind her.
I met my uncle’s eyes. “And why is she still working here?”
He sighed. “To improve relations with Amur.”
I lifted a brow. “Is it working?”
He frowned, his eyes moving to Iliana in a very direct way. I got the message. We’d talk about this later. My phone vibrated, and I pulled it from my pocket. It was Nate. Ready?
Meeting my uncle’s gaze again, I waited for him to stand before standing as well. Like she had a spring in her ass, Iliana sprung up beside me, clearly remembering protocol. “Thank you for what you did today. The press ate up your participation.”
“I was pleased to support you and your bride.” He shook my hand before taking Iliana’s between both of his. “Welcome to the family, my dear. I look forward to getting to know you much better in the future.”
We waited for the king to exit, and the second the door closed behind him, we both visibly relaxed. “Are you okay?” I asked, and like a switch, Iliana turned on a megawatt smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Perfect.”
I didn’t believe her, but I didn’t have time to dig further. “I need to go see Nate. I—”
She held up a hand. “Of course you do, and I need to sign some business contracts, apparently.”
The words and the implications behind them were sharp, and I instantly understood why she was upset. I’d completely forgotten to mention the non-disclosure and the Cassian royal family version of a pre-prenup that laid out all of the expectations and obligations a royal spouse-to-be would be expected to uphold. With everything on my mind, I’d actually forgotten about it myself. And to have Reina deliver the news in her catty way, I could understand why Iliana might be feeling a little betrayed.
“Are you upset?” I asked. “I forgot to mention the contracts, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sure it sounded worse than it really is.”
She gave a shrug as she reached the door. “It’s fine, really,” she said as she stepped through. “Maybe I’ll see you later today.”
With that, Iliana was gone, letting the door click shut behind her.
I wanted to go after her and reassure her that things looked legal and impersonal on the outside, but they were just formalities. But that could take hours and then hours more for us to kiss and make up.
My phone vibrated again, reminding me that I had business to attend to.
I’d have to reassure Iliana later.
***
The small gathering of security personnel were headed their separate ways after Anjou’s latest demand for more troops was over and the king decided to think it over in the coming week before making a hasty decision.
“Let’s all hope that it doesn’t result in an international incident,” Minister Anjou had said. Most of the attendees bristled at the tone she’d dared take with the monarch, but I was incredibly glad she had. More and more of her true colors were starting to show, and I was taking note.
Nate and I stayed behind in the room after everyone left.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that woman is trying to kick a hornet’s nest,” I said, frowning down at my legal pad.
“She’s practically frothing to get more troops involved,” he agreed.
“I think we should suggest to one of General Fieldsis’ men that she be watched a little more closely,” I suggested.
“I agree, but who? You’ve got to be careful with this one, Seb,” Nate warned. “This requires a deft hand.”
I nodded, considering it a long moment. “I think I know just the person. “Is Damen Poulos still in the defense ministry? He and I served in the Middle East together, and he has a hell of a way with reconnaissance.”
Nate nodded at that. “Yeah. Poulos is still there, and he’s got a top security clearance too, I believe. You trust him with this?”
“I do,” I said. “Tell him to watch the minister for now and to be subtle. We’re looking for anything out of the ordinary right now.”
Nate pushed to his feet. “I’ll get it done immediately and report back anything he hears.”
When the door closed behind him, unease settled over me. I was getting the sense that the stakes were getting higher in my life with each passing moment — both professionally and personally. The squeeze around me was tightening as my country was threatened with violence on its northern border while I navigated a new relationship with the woman carrying my child.
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I cleared my head and looked down at my agenda which, at the moment, seemed like a never-ending to-do list.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Iliana
A week passed, and The Summer Festival was set to begin, which meant both Seb and I were kept exceedingly busy.
One of the bright spots of my days was the chance to sit and play with Princess Penelope, one of the most darling little girls in all eternity.
It turned out that Princess Penelope had her own entourage of nannies, secretaries, and security. On top of that, she even had her own reception rooms. The rooms were much less stuffy than the rest of the palace, and Sebastianos told me it was to make the princess more comfortable when hosting other children of dignitaries and special guests while getting her accustomed to doing so. There was a giant television, comfortable couches and even a wall of games and movies to help her entertain while her father did the same a few doors away in the formal receiving rooms.
And I was quickly becoming one of her favorite playmates, which I loved.
On one visit, Penelope wore a purple and pink dress with the enormous purple and pink bow I remembered seeing at the Galleria.
She gave me an enormous smile. She was missing one of her front teeth, and the other was growing in, much larger than the rest of her baby teeth. Imagining this creature as the queen of Cassia someday brought a smile to my face. She was perfect.
“Can I help plan the wedding?”
“Of course you can. I need all the help I can get.”
She beamed at me. I took the little girl’s hand, and she pulled me over to a little sitting area.
After I was seated, Penelope darted around the sofa and returned seconds later with a large magazine earmarked with Post-it notes.
She plunked it down on the table next to us and pointed to the cover. International Bride.
“I stole sticker notes out of Daddy’s desk drawer and marked the pages that had my favorite dresses,” she explained. “You can look at it and maybe choose the ones you like? We can show the dress designer our favorites.”
My mouth would have dropped open if I hadn’t made an effort to keep it closed. This precocious little girl had
gotten her hands on a bridal magazine and bookmarked favorites for me? It made me laugh, and I struggled to be as serious about it as she looked right now.
Her nanny, introduced as Mrs. Kent, explained, “Her Highness has been obsessed with brides and weddings since she was old enough to turn a page,” she said with a laugh. “We thought she’d outgrow it, but I see a wedding planner in her future if she decides not to be the reigning monarch of a small first-world country.”
Penelope was still beaming as she pointed out the bridesmaid dress she preferred. The child had good taste. I looked at the price tag and gasped. Expensive tastes.
“Daddy said that since you are a baroness, it’s okay for me to follow behind you but if you had been a commoner, I wouldn’t be able to.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Royal protocol can be very confusing.”
So Penelope and I bonded over wedding talk, and we spent some bit of time together every day, with Penelope promising to “show me the ropes.”
It was after one of my visits with Penelope that my parents finally called, and the relief of hearing their voices had caused me to sink to the floor of my private living quarters while I shared the news of the pregnancy and upcoming wedding.
“Can you come?” I begged my mother. “Please come. I need you here. I need Daddy to walk me down the aisle. Please tell me you’ll be here.”
“Shhh, Silly Illy,” Mom said in her best soothing voice. “Of course we’ll be there. How are you feeling? How are you handling the pressure you must be experiencing?”
My parents had always spoken to me as if I were a grown-up, but right then, I just needed them to take me in their arms and tell me everything would be okay.
They couldn’t, of course, so instead, I shared the details of meeting Aunt Hermione and what I’d been learning and experiencing in the palace. It was actually soothing, just chatting about details to people I knew would keep my secrets.
It had been hard to say goodbye when it came to the point where I knew we were struggling for more to say. I didn’t know why it was harder that time. Maybe it was because I was in the process of becoming a mother too that made me want to cling to the woman who’d given me life.
“We’ll begin making plans, darling,” she assured. “I’ll email the information as we know it, and please thank Aunt Hermione for her hospitality to both you and to us when we arrive.”
My great-aunt had been the first to offer her home to my parents and any friends who might wish to attend the wedding. In a way, it was funny. By leaving everything I’d ever known, my circle of friendship and family was actually growing more than at any time in my life.
After the call, the glam crew assaulted me, getting me prepped and ready for the half-hour interview Seb and I would be giving later that afternoon.
It went well, with Sebastianos doing most of the talking while I did most of the smiling and nodding as I focused on sitting up straight and not crossing my legs at the knees.
Which was incredibly difficult.
Another thing that was incredibly difficult was not looking at social media and the online gossip rags. I’d nearly been in tears when someone posted an unflattering picture of me attempting to stifle a yawn. The comments had been brutal, with most calling me common and of ill breeding, surely not attractive enough for the dashing duke.
As I smiled at the stylist reporter, I looked down at the ice blue dress that had been chosen for me, my knees and wrists completely covered. It was pretty, but I honestly felt like an old lady who had been swallowed by an iceberg. I’d need to talk to the style team. I wanted to look appropriate, but I also wanted to look like me.
The dress was also a bit baggy, because even since my fitting a few days ago, I’d lost a few pounds. Between still feeling sick, the stress of being perfect was wearing on me. It made me worry about the baby, which made me feel even more stressed, which seemed to become a revolving circle.
It wasn’t all bad. I was sure I’d also lost weight from all the additional exercise I was getting in the bedroom… and the living room… and the kitchen… and on his office desk.
“And which do you prefer, my dear?”
I snapped back to the conversation and gave the reporter a bright smile. “I’m sorry. I distracted myself.”
She gave me an indulgent smile, but her eyes seemed to say, Commoner.
“I was asking about your preference between horse-drawn carriages versus motor vehicles.”
Gah! Seriously?
I smiled. “I think both are lovely, and I’m sure Sebastianos and I will enjoy making that decision.”
Ha! Although I thought I’d recovered nicely, I forced myself to pay closer attention to each and every question, and when I caught myself crossing my legs, I very slowly adjusted position, crossing them at the ankle instead.
Could I do this all the rest of my life?
Worry about how I sat? Smiled? Paid attention to things that meant so little to me?
“…. royal photography office?”
Damn. My mind had wandered again. But I thought I caught enough of the question to answer correctly. “I’ve enjoyed tremendously being part of the royal photography team and couldn’t be more grateful for all I’ve learned so far. I hope to work closely with them in the future.”
There. Hopefully, that covered everything.
When she smiled and moved on to another topic — the debate between fruit or white cake at weddings… gah! — I took a relieved breath and barely managed to hold back a “let them eat chocolate cake” barb that would have probably gotten me in trouble.
The moment the interview was over, I stood and gave the woman a warm hug, hoping to endear her into saying nice things about me.
“Congratulations on the little one,” she whispered in my ear, and I froze. Pulling back, I wasn’t sure what to say. It was one thing to avoid a question and quite another to lie to someone’s face.
Seb saved me, taking my hand, mentioning we had another appointment to rush to. The interviewer winked, and I smiled before turning away without a word.
He wasn’t wrong. We did have to rush. The moment I was back in my rooms, the glam squad was there, yet another dreary dress hanging on a gigantic wooden hanger.
I looked at Michael, the stylist assigned to me. “No, I’m not wearing that.” Immediately feeling guilty, I put my hand on his arm. “Please. I’m twenty-four, not ninety.”
But instead of dashing my hopes of ever dressing young again, Michael just smiled and pulled another dress from the closet.
It was a sunny yellow that I could already tell would fit perfectly. Still knee-length, the cut featured a boat line neck that would highlight my shoulders without showing boat loads of skin in the process.
“I love it.”
He air-kissed my cheeks. “The color will be wonderful for an outdoor event.”
After they’d done some magic twist with my hair, lifting it off my neck so that dress wouldn’t be upstaged by the long strands, I felt young and free as I twisted this way and that in front of the mirror.
“Τέλειος.”
Whirling, I found Seb in the doorway, smiling at me. “You’re looking pretty perfect yourself,” I said, happy that I was slowly picking up more of the language.
And he did look perfect. As we’d be outdoors for hours, he’d opted on charcoal pants with a snowy white shirt open at the neck.
“You remind me of the first time I met you.”
He smiled, and the glam squad scattered as he came farther into the room. “Best day of my life.”
Something low and deep twisted in my belly, and I knew it wasn’t anything to do with our baby. It was lust, pure and simple.
“Maybe tonight we can recreate that first meeting,” I said and ran my hand into the open neck of his shirt, feeling his warm skin.
He kissed me, and with that meeting of the lips, all the stress of the day slid away.
Going against royal protocol, we held hands as we walked the streets of the fe
stival, and I was happy to see so many smiling faces beaming at me, wanting to shake my hand or get my picture.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, I thought as I knelt to shake hands with a little girl wearing a tiara. “You look so beautiful,” I told her.
“So are you,” she said back, her little voice piercing my heart.
Vendors were out and sporting patriotic décor in Cassia’s purple and yellow colors. Kids played with streamers and begged their parents for money for the food and sweets vendors.
Artisans and craft makers had tables that lined the narrow roads outside the castle, and the air of celebration was heavy and exciting. I was enjoying myself and my time, and when I became a subject of Thierry’s crew, I rolled my eyes and stole one of the cameras, taking his picture in return.
When Seb was called away, I stayed with Thierry, comfortable in his presence. Acting as if I was still a regular intern, I paid attention to everything he did, learning how Thierry used his knowledge and tools to capture complete stories in the faces of the people in his photographs — something I hoped to learn, especially since my focus of study was turning away from landscapes. And more to babies, I thought with a smile.
“It’s not as easy as you thought it would be, is it?” Thierry asked me after we had wrapped up a shoot and were sitting on a bench enjoying a round of lemonade. It was becoming easier to forget that I was surrounded by guards and flashing cameras as I focused on the man beside me.
“What’s not easy?”
“Assimilating into royal life.”
I laughed. “I never expected it to be easy,” I said, trying to keep my answers generic since we were in public, and I’d been warned that there would be people attempting to read my lips.
“You have an easy face to read, Miss Costas,” he said. “That, and I have little birds everywhere who sing about the woman from the communications office. She’s not making it easy, I hear. The latest word is that you are getting cold feet since you’ve yet to sign one contract or another.”
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