Chapter Thirteen

“If you planned to traipse us across the entire palace grounds, why didn’t we start earlier, before it got so darned hot?” Mallory lifted her hair off her neck to pull it through the strap of her stars-and-stripes baseball cap. She always wore it in the run up to the Fourth of July. Kelsey just hoped nobody here in Moncriano got offended by the in-your-face America-ness of it.

“The royal family attends Mass every Sunday,” Elias said. “I went with them.”

Aha. That explained why her official schedule had been so surprisingly empty. It had been nice to lay in bed doing nothing after so many jam-packed days in a row. Kelsey bumped shoulders with her sister. “No complaining. Even in a palace, God trumps everyone.”

“We’re not Catholic,” Mallory reminded her. The snippy tone was probably due to how poorly she dealt with heat. That auburn hair and pale skin made her particularly susceptible…and bitchy. “We don’t have to jump to attention every Sunday.”

And, boom! There was another reminder of things that were beyond her scope of knowledge. “Hang on. Am I Catholic? Christened in the church and all that?”

Elias nodded without breaking his stride as they tromped over thicker grass far beyond the manicured gardens she knew.

“So if I stay, I’ll have to learn my catechism and get confirmed?” Oh geez. What if they did mass in Latin? She’d have to learn two more languages? This country was piling up reasons for her to take the easy way out and bolt back to New York. Yes, it was surface stuff and not an actual reason to turn her back on her legacy, her duty. But sometimes that all got too heavy to contemplate, so Kelsey focused on the small differences. It helped her cope. She knew, however, it in no way could help influence her actual decision.

“Unlike England, in Moncriano the monarch is not the head of the church. In terms of battles to fight to keep your sense of self, you have a good chance of not being hassled if you choose to remain…what, exactly?”

Oh, it was delicious to catch Elias out. Kelsey did a skip-hop combo to get in front of him. All the better to wag a finger in his face. “Ha! Something your background snooping didn’t turn up. I’m shocked. So disappointed in your slacker-hood.”

“The Royal Protection Service doesn’t snoop. We investigate.” He was as haughty and proper as…her grandmother. Until Elias winked at her.

Warmth poured through her body at that naughty wink and the smile that accompanied it. Watching the real Elias leak past the buttoned-up layers of pomp and formality was so much fun. Kelsey almost reached for his hand, but stopped herself just in time.

The gardens looked deserted—did the entire capital city go to mass?—but the outer grounds of the palace were open to public tours. They had to be careful. Or so Elias kept insisting. Repeatedly. That if anyone found out, he’d lose his job. And his honor. Because he was a commoner and she was royalty.

Kelsey didn’t believe it. What was the good of having the title of princess if it couldn’t be used to protect her…what…boyfriend? If she could call him that. Considering she might be moving back to Manhattan in a week, that seemed presumptuous.

She’d never ask Elias to give up his life here in Moncriano. No matter how much she respected him…enjoyed him…adored being with him…craved more time naked with him…

Nothing cranked down the lid on the urge to touch him like thinking about religion. “We’re Presbyterian, I guess? We mostly went on Christmas and Easter.”

“Any excuse for carols and ham,” Mallory said.

“Perhaps you’d be willing to undertake a basic education in the rituals, so that when required to attend church as a family you wouldn’t feel confused.”

Turning in a slow circle to take in the unfamiliar mountains, the glint of the ocean in the opposite direction, and of course, the palace, Kelsey said, “This shouldn’t be breaking news, but I’m existing in a perpetual state of confusion.”

“Stop that. You’re doing great,” Mallory said stoutly. “You’re not a spy cramming for a black op. These things take time. Citizens spend eighteen years learning history and culture and tradition as they grow up. They’re trying to stuff it all into you in a matter of weeks. Don’t put yourself down.”

Kelsey blew her a kiss. Her sister never failed to boost her confidence levels. Something that burbled way below average in her bloodstream. “Habit, I guess.”

“A crappy habit, one you need to break. Royalty should be extremely self-assured.”

“Like you know.”

“Uh, you know how much I love old movies. Lots of them revolve around royalty.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if she could just binge watch some black-and-white movies with snappy dialogue and great hats and be all caught up? “I watch all those medical dramas. You don’t see me posing as a doctor, do you?”

“Not yet. Who knows what next secret about your new life will be unveiled?” Mallory wriggled her fingers and lifted her arms as though lifting a sheet.

They both giggled. It was such a relief to not be tamping down any of their humor in public. Maybe a totally deserted park wasn’t very public, but Kelsey was already sick of minding her Ps and Qs all the time. Not in a rebellious, teenage way. Just in a not wanting to be fake way. Serene and stoic did not come naturally to her.

So far, being royal felt a lot like being on a nonstop job interview.

She was positive it wasn’t just her relatives doing the judging. Everyone from the footmen to the other security teams to yes, Renate at the salon, who all saw this near-clone of Genevieve walking around with unfettered access to the royal family. They had to have guessed who she was already, and been sworn to secrecy. Either way, the only people she could relax, be herself around, were Mallory, Elias, Sir Evan, and her chambermaid, Anya.

Living a lie didn’t sound appealing. Giving up who she was on the outside was one thing. Her job, her country, her preferred daily uniform of yoga pants—Kelsey could live without those, if necessary. But giving up who she was on the inside was an entirely different matter. It was as if she was a doll, having her stuffing replaced.

Was there a way to embrace being a princess while remaining her ordinary self? Because she truly wanted to give Moncriano a fair shot. Being a part of the House of Villani was a centuries-old legacy. It’d be immature to turn her back on it just for not being what she’d planned. Yet it felt very mature to realize that she could not truly become a Villani if it meant giving up everything that made her Kelsey Wishner…

“Look, there.” Elias pointed past the edge of the lake to a copse of leafed-out trees. In their shade sat what looked similar to a Grecian temple. Four marble columns, holding up a pitched roof. Centered under its peak was the image of a crown over the name Serena.

Mallory stopped and grabbed Kelsey’s arm. “Is that her tomb?”

“Yes.”

Whoa. Talk about a bait and switch. Kelsey took in the enlarged black silhouette in relief on pale-blue marble. Its shape was almost identical to her own face. A pair of silver plaques bracketed it, covered in writing she wasn’t close enough to read. Curiosity carried her forward even as she shot Elias a stone-cold glare.

“You said you wanted to show me something meaningful on the palace grounds.”

Elias put his hands in his pockets, bunching up his jacket, the one she knew he only wore in this heat to cover his gun. To protect her at all times. “It is meaningful, to me. I’ve been here many times with Christian over the years.”

“But I’m wearing shorts.” Kelsey didn’t think she should be in all black and a hat with a veil. But something more respectful than frayed denim shorts and a concert tee from Elton John’s last tour would be appropriate for her first visit to her mother’s grave. The closest she’d come to meeting the woman who gave her life.

This morning had taken a hard left to the surreal.

The inner corners of his dark-brown eyebrows pulled together in obvious concern. “I could tell that you were all in your head about her suicide. You didn’t relax at all during the portrait session last night.”

Not relaxed? That was like calling a volcano a warm mud bath. “I was posing for a family portrait with people I barely know with a heavy tiara shellacked to the top of my head. The grand duchess stared at me, Genevieve wouldn’t look at me, and yeah, I was processing everything. It takes a few hours, for goodness’ sake.”

“You’re saying you’re better now? Calmer?”

“I was,” she said pointedly.

His usual nod bent deeper, into a half bow. “My apologies. I’d hoped bringing you here, unannounced, would be akin to removing a bandage without warning. Less painful. Less worrisome.”

“And you made sure Mallory came along in case I got emotional.” Kelsey had been caught off guard, sure. But the thoughtfulness behind his decision to blindside her with this field trip was inarguable. Better than a dozen roses, or dinner at an expensive restaurant. Elias got nothing out of this. He’d done it strictly for her.

With practiced polish, he side-stepped the actual answer as they approached the base of the pavilion. “I’m aware you two haven’t gotten to spend as much time together as you’d like.”

Kelsey sat on the wooden bench beneath the silhouette. Wondered how to connect to a dead woman. How to not feel as though she were cheating on the woman who raised her. Ponder how to say hello to someone who wasn’t even a memory, and yet had loved her so very much. “This is a beautiful spot.”

Elias stood at the front of the farthest column, eyes scanning the grounds they’d just covered. His on-duty intensity showed in the taut set of his jaw. The way his hands hung loose, ready to fist or grab for his gun, while his feet were just wide enough to brace himself. Too bad he couldn’t join them on the bench.

“It is open to the public, so that all may mourn and remember their Queen. Many do, to this day. But I’ve taken the liberty of closing the gates for the next hour, so that you may have privacy.”

“Thank you. This would be a hundred times more difficult if there were a crowd of strangers.” If the urge to cry did take root? The fewer people to witness her inevitable red nose, the better.

Mallory plopped down next to her. “What do you want to say?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the queen. Sitting here makes me wish I did. I wish that we could share stories. I wish I knew what made her so special that people still come visit her grave more than twenty years later. I wish I knew…anything,” she repeated lamely.

“Perhaps I can help.” Prince Christian appeared from the grove of trees. A very different version of Christian than she’d seen before, in jeans and a white polo shirt. Next to him was Genevieve. She was also dressed way down in a simple, pink eyelet sundress. The down-turned corners of her mouth, however, were something Kelsey was already very used to seeing.

Mallory shot to her feet. Then she bent her knees into a curtsey. Which looked ridiculous in her sleeveless khaki dress made of T-shirt fabric. “Your Highness. Your Highness. Good morning.”

“Miss Wishner.” Christian inclined his head in a completely different way than Elias did.

There was no subservience implied, no “I’m at your disposal.” It was more of an acknowledgment that, yes, he accepted her greeting, as was his due.

Kelsey didn’t believe that Christian meant any slight by it. Even after a little over a week, she’d come to realize that was simply the way things were here. Probably everywhere that had a monarchy rather than an “all things are created equal” democracy.

Crap.

She should probably scrape together two ounces of courtesy and greet her siblings. Not because protocol demanded it, but because she’d been raised to be friendly. Midwestern nice. Even when one of those siblings was staring at her with a level of disdain generally reserved for six-month-old food covered in mold in the very back of the fridge.

“Good morning, Christian. Genevieve.” Kelsey didn’t get up, though. She’d learned enough to know it wasn’t required…until Christian ascended to the throne, anyway. “Do you come out here every Sunday after Mass?”

“Our schedule’s not that fluid, I’m afraid. And we don’t want to cause a disruption for tourists and citizens who want to visit.” He craned his head back to look at the silhouette of their mother. “I can’t remember the last time I was here. Genny?”

“I came on my birthday.” Her words snapped out. Then she wrapped an arm around the ridged column and leaned against it. Everything softened. The curve of her shoulders, her pinched lips, and most of all, her tone. “I do every year. That’s when I miss her the most. It just…seems like a day everyone deserves to be with their mother.”

That was such a normal, human reaction, one that tugged at Kelsey’s heartstrings, and made her ache for the little girl Genevieve had been. Growing up motherless, coming out to a peaceful but very sad place instead of getting birthday donuts in bed.

For all the loss Kelsey was still struggling to process when it came to Queen Serena, she’d had a mother. One who tucked her in every night with kisses. Who scared away the monsters under the bed with a truly horrible tap dance routine. One who listened when Kelsey complained about Mallory getting to do everything first, and told her it was okay to be sad as long as she didn’t take away from any of Mallory’s joy at wearing makeup or driving or graduating.

All of that added up to her being far, far luckier than the prince and princess standing in front of her.

“Your Highness, would you like me to leave?” Mallory directed the soft question to Christian.

Crap. She’d forgotten all about poor Mallory still standing there, super awkwardly, while consumed with pity for Genevieve. This having two sisters thing would take some practice. Kelsey almost told her to stay. That urge was automatic. The need to have her nearby was strong, too.

But she wanted to hear Christian’s response. To see if he’d dismiss her (oh, just let him try!) or ask her to stay. To see if he accepted Mallory as family—like it or not—in a way that Genevieve clearly did not, as of yet.

“Pardon me, Miss Wishner. I didn’t mean to leave you standing.” He took her by the elbow and led her the half freaking step back to the bench. “Please, do be seated.”

Was that—omigod—a blush coloring her sister’s cheeks? Just because Christian touched her? The skin of a redhead always revealed the naughty thoughts roiling around in her brain. There’d have to be questions about this later.

Mallory shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t. There’s only room for two on this bench. You or the princess should sit.”

This uber-polite dance between the two of them verged on laughable. In fact, Kelsey caught Elias’s eye and saw his lips twitch as she wriggled her eyebrows and tilted her head ever so slightly toward Christian and Mallory. And it felt so…natural to share that unspoken communication with him. Like they were in sync.

Kelsey reached out and tugged on Mallory’s skirt so hard that she sort of fell back onto the bench. “See those five acres of grass in front of us? There’s plenty of room for everyone to sit, for goodness’ sake.”

Christian sprawled on the ground. Genevieve’s security detail, who’d been huddled with Christian’s guy and Elias, whipped off her jacket and laid it on the checkerboard tiles next to the bench. Talk about high-level protection for a cotton dress!

At some point, Kelsey would learn the names of all the security guards. They all seemed intent on blending into the woodwork, but that didn’t fly for her. If these people were willing to give up their own lives to protect her family, she darned well wanted to know at least a little something about them. The basics—their names, if they preferred cookies or brownies so she could make them treats every so often, their favorite bands…

Oh. That would entail diving into the music scene here in Moncriano. Or very probably, the entire European music scene. Make that thing number eight gajillion and two that she’d have to learn from scratch.

If she stayed.

“Thank you, Clara,” Genevieve murmured as she knelt. And that earned her about two hundred points back in the not a total bitch column. Because three minutes ago, Kelsey would’ve assumed that there was no way Genny knew the name of her bodyguard.

“So why are you two out here?” If it was to drop some other horrific secret on her, well, Kelsey still hadn’t recovered from yesterday’s big suicide-on-her-birthday reveal. She’d quite possibly grab Mallory and make a run for it.

“Elias requested I join you.” Christian looked vaguely amused. “He never asks for favors. Ever. I couldn’t turn him down.”

“Elias?” she said, swiveling to face him in shock. This asking a favor of his friend thing—on her behalf—seemed huge. Not an optimal way to keep their relationships under wraps, either.

He took a miniscule step forward. “I thought Your Highness might like to learn a bit about the queen as you saw her grave for the first time. Something personal, not in the official histories. Family stories. A way to feel her presence here.”

“That’d be really, really nice.” Kelsey hadn’t wanted to come out and ask anyone. Yes, the woman had been dead for more than twenty years. But she didn’t want to accidentally pick at an emotional scab. It didn’t feel like she had the right. Not yet. So this was yet another gift from the man who knew what she wanted and needed before she even realized it herself.

She couldn’t wait to get Elias alone to thank him.

“Genny here just tagged along. Uninvited.” Christian pulled out a few blades of grass and blew them at her from his palm. “She’s a brat that way.”

Kelsey bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Their true brother/sister dynamic was showing, and it delighted her. It was as if they’d left their titles back in their bedrooms with the formal clothes. This was real family time. It was the key to her actually connecting to them.

Shrugging one shoulder, Genevieve said, “We almost never talk about her anymore. For a while, Papa made an effort, but once we were grown, he stopped. So yes, I want to hear the stories, too. Don’t be an ass about it, Christian.”

“Don’t give Kelsey the wrong impression of me.”

“I get the feeling she’s capable of coming to her own wrong impressions, without any help.”

Was that a dig? Because she didn’t let Genevieve run roughshod over her? Or because she’d perhaps lobbed back semi-bitchiness every time it came her way?

Point taken.

And thus, olive branch extended. “I’ll take all the help I can get. In every aspect of learning about this family.” Then Kelsey noticed that Mallory was sitting ramrod straight, the tips of her toes pointed. A bow with a cocked arrow had less tension than her sister. That needed to stop right-the-hell now. “I’d like to start, though, with you two learning about my family. This amazing woman next to me.”

“Kelsey, shush.” Mallory’s cheeks reddened to near-fire.

“No. If I’m going to get to know them, they need to get to know you. We’ve had time to get over the shock, the weirdness of being in each other’s lives. Now we’re a blended, modern royal family. Breaking new ground, charting new territory. None of it matters, though, unless we act like a true family. Unless we learn to care, learn what makes each of us special and awesome and lovable.”

Genevieve curled her legs underneath her, then she looked Kelsey directly in the eyes. “I will give you free rein to borrow anything in my closet—for a day—if you give that speech to our grandmother. Two days, if you let me watch.”

“Heck, no.” Relieved laughter gurgled out. “I’m passionate, not self-destructive. I’ve got a feeling the ‘missing Princess Valentina’ would never reappear to the country if I did that.”

“I have a dozen pairs of Louboutins. In case you change your mind…”

The shoes weren’t tempting in the least. Bringing out this playful side of Genny, however, was. Kelsey curled her fingers around the seat of the bench and leaned forward. “I just want to start with you two so my brother and sister learn to respect and like my other sister.”

“Here, here,” Christian said. “I, for one, would be fascinated to learn about Miss Wishner.”

“Huh-uh.” Kelsey was on a streak, and she’d push it as far as possible. “Her name’s Mallory. I understand protocol, yada, yada, yada, but when it’s just us? Use her name. Please. All this formality only puts another wall between us.”

Shockingly, it wasn’t Christian that responded first. Genevieve scooted a little closer. “All right then, Mallory, tell us one of your favorite things about Kelsey. And vice versa.”

“Oh, she’ll hate that. I’d better move so I don’t get pinched.” With a smirk, Mallory jumped up and hustled over to stand by Christian.

Kelsey allowed herself another swift and significant eyebrow waggle at Elias. Then she took a deep breath and held it, because yes, she absolutely hated having the spotlight turned on her. This reversal of praise was not her plan at all.

“She never puts herself first. It sounds selfish for me to say that, doesn’t it?” Mallory rubbed at her chest, biting her bottom lip. “I guess it’s more that she doesn’t think of herself as better, or more important than anyone else. Kelsey always asks how my day is first, even if something big and horrific happened to her. She always lets people with a handful of items cut in front of her at the grocery store. When I’m talking to her, I’m confident I’ve got her full attention—and will, for as long as I need it. She makes me—and everyone—feel valued and important and seen.”

Kelsey jumped up to deliver a tackle-hug. As they landed on the grass, she said, “I hated hearing it. But I love that you feel it.”

“Well said, indeed.” Christian applauded. “Kelsey, what did you want to tell us about Mallory?”

“I’m not as eloquent. Mine’s more bullet points. She can stretch a dollar further than anyone. I can’t even explain her magic way with numbers, but she’s a whiz. She’s such a good baker that she placed five years in a row at the state fair. And she bends over backwards to support me no matter what—including traipsing halfway across the world on ten minutes’ notice just so I wouldn’t be all alone here.”

“Very laudable,” Genevieve said. She even beamed a half smile at Mallory.

Christian, on the other hand, winced comically. “And an ironic segue to what I was going to share. Our mother was a horrible baker.”

Ooh, a personal freedom alert. Kelsey’s eyes widened. “She was allowed to cook? Sir Evan told me I wasn’t to go down to the kitchens even to grab a bag of chips.”

“That’s to protect their feelings. Our kitchen staff takes great pride in providing for us. But our mother decided when she first got pregnant that it was a requirement of the role to bake cookies. She practiced every other Thursday night. For seven months.”

Mallory’s jaw dropped. “It took her seven months to learn how to make cookies?”

“Not even close. Not even practicing for four years helped. I don’t have many memories of her, but I do remember the oatmeal cookies she made were so bad that I spit them out. In the middle of a garden party. I got taken back to my room. But at least I didn’t have to eat any more of those cookies.”

They all laughed. Yup. Mallory was better than a freaking queen at baking. Kelsey laughed with joy at learning a fact so ordinary. So humbling. So darned funny.

Kelsey leaned across to put a hand on Christian’s arm. “Tell me something she did as queen that made the title matter more than the tiara.”

“That’s easy. She gave away all her baby presents. Every time. Even the designer dresses and top-of-the-line strollers and monogrammed pacifiers. She gathered everything up and gave it to single mothers in the kingdom.”

That single memory he’d shared told her so much about her mother’s generous nature. Kelsey loved it.

Genevieve got up and knelt in the grass without bothering to bring the protection of the jacket. “Tell the one about the costume. At that American superhero thing.”

“Papa would tell it better.”

She lifted her hands to indicate the empty park. “He’s not here.”

“Mama snuck into a comic conference in full costume so nobody knew it was her.”

“Comic-Con?” Kelsey breathed the words with reverence. After moving to Manhattan, it had been her biggest dream to attend someday.

“In what costume?”

“Black Widow.”

Kelsey flopped to her back. It was her favorite movie. She’d worn the costume four Halloweens in a row.

A costume her grandmother had carefully altered every year. So now that she finally had a tangible connection to this life and the queen—it was also a reminder of her old life, and the people she loved back home.

Stalemate.

Again.

It was a weird, one step forward, one step back dance. Did that mean that there truly weren’t two versions of her that Kelsey had to choose between?

That it was okay to love Mallory and learn to love Christian? Okay, maybe learn to like Genevieve? That she could still be herself no matter where she landed?

Kelsey did know one thing for certain.

In the midst of all this dichotomy, being with Elias made her feel the most normal, the most real. In fact, Elias gave her all the feels. Arranging this session with her brother and sister had been so thoughtful of him. Kelsey couldn’t wait to thank him…“properly.”