“Happy to see you.” The words just slipped out.
“That’s more like you. You hadn’t said anything cheesy in a few hours, so I was starting to get worried.”
I had a reply, but I let it go. Be friends, Gale. I was going to try to be her friend first. “Do you need help with anything else?”
“No, don’t help. I don’t want you to get anything else in your eyes, or worse, cut a finger. Iskandar here might lose it,” she teased him.
He frowned into his book, looking away from us both.
“Do not worry. I will protect you.” I snickered, looking back to her. “I am enjoying being so normal.”
“Fine, you can help me set the table and bring out the food,” she said.
“That I am sure I can manage!”
He looked so relaxed.
So...normal.
Like any other guy around my mom’s dining table. A table we only ever used when people came over. Most times, we just ate in front of the television. Even on Thanksgiving and Christmas, we would spend our mornings and afternoons at fundraisers or charity events and then come back and eat while watching some sappy drama.
Yet here he was, just being a guy at dinner, talking, eating, joking. But I noticed he was no longer trying to hit on me. It kind of bothered me. It also bothered me that I had no idea what had happened while I was gone. However, I pushed those thoughts down and tried to focus on all the stories that were going around. My mom was doing her best to once again embarrass me, telling Gale every horrible story of my childhood. Luckily, Wolfgang and Iskandar had a few of his to share as well.
It felt like Thanksgiving came early this year.
“Odette, why don’t you take Gale to the study to see your old photos and trophies while we clean up,” my mother said with a wink and a nod. Her setup was clear to everyone at the table, which was why Wolfgang was already rising from his chair, leaning over to take Gale’s plate.
But Gale picked it up instead. “Ms. W—Wilhelmina, it is fine. I want to clean up, too.”
“You both did the shopping and the cooking, so the least we can do is clean. Iskandar, pick up a plate,” she directed Iskandar, who looked at her for a moment. She gave him a look, and he got up, taking Gale’s plate from his hand.
“Odette, go on.” She pushed with her eyes saying, if you do not take him in there, young lady, I will hurt you.
“It’s fine, really,” Gale interjected.
Did he not want to go with me? “Come on. She will keep giving me the evil eye until we go.”
It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. He walked around and followed me through the dining room into the hall and across from the stairs where I slid open the study door. It was not used to study but to showcase all of the awards she and I had received, along with photos and teddy bears.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, stepping inside.
“Yep. Welcome to my mother’s shrine.” Some parents displayed their kid’s drawings or college diplomas. My mother had all my little tiaras, wands, tutus, sashes, and photo shoots.
“Little Miss Sunrise and Little Miss Moonshine?” he said with a grin, reading the sashes draped over a velvet pillow. “Did you win Little Miss Star, too?”
I pointed behind him. “I won the Brightest Little Star at nine months.”
He looked at it in shock. “There are competitions for infants, too?”
“Yep, and it’s serious. Like my mom says, not every baby is cute.” I shook my head. “I always wondered how in the world she convinced my father to put me through all of that.”
“He probably let it happen because it made her so happy. Look at her smile with you.” He pointed to the photo of me as a baby wearing my little tiara and her with her crown.
We were in matching dresses and smiling like they glued the sides of our faces up.
“When my mother was your age, she wanted to be a ballerina. She wanted it more than anything. She had gone to school for it, and she had actually even performed in a few productions. But then she met my father, and there was no way the future queen could be seen twirling around on stage. She was forced to make a choice and chose my father. My father did not want her to be unhappy, but he could not yet change the rules, as my grandparents would not have allowed it. After they were married, he had her perform in the palace. The only people who saw the performance were a few close members of the family. But it made her happy, anyway.”
“I thought you said women did not have to give up their careers?” And the amount of worry that came over me was strange, seeing as how I hadn’t agreed to marry him.
“My father changed the rule when he became king. But she was older and more focused on being a mom to the three of us. She did not dance again after that, but she did make Eliza try.”
“So, your sister is a ballerina?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “She did not even entertain our mother’s idea. She went to one class and refused ever to go again. Everyone tried to tell her to give it a few more tries, and she outright refused. She was six. My mom took her anyway, and so Eliza decided to just sit down for the whole class. My mother gave up.”
“Why do moms always try to live vicariously through their daughters?”
“Not just mothers and daughters but fathers and sons, too.”
“Your father is a king, and he tries to live through you?”
“Not me at all. I always joke that I am the spare. He tries more through Arty, my brother, the Adelaar.”
“The what?”
He lifted one of the photo books, looking through them. “It means the eagle apparent, or what you would say as the crown prince. In France, they call theirs the Dauphin. In Ersovia, we say Adelaar. And the wife of Adelaar is called the Adelina. The white eagle is the symbol of the House of Monterey and thus the monarchy.”
“How long has your family reigned?” I asked.
“Since 1597.”
“What?” They had been kings and queens before America was America. Jamestown hadn’t even existed yet.
His eyes focused on me, and the corners of his lips turned up. “The House of Monterey is the longest-ruling family in Europe, not that it matters much. There are not many kingdoms left.”
There was a flash of sorrow as he closed the book, putting it back where he got it from.
“Are you worried about that?” I asked, coming closer to him.
“All royals are worried about that,” he whispered. “However, I always wonder if that time came for us, what will it be like for the last king? I’m sure Arty will make it through, but what about his future son or daughter, and their children. The people love us today, but love is not always enough—as history has clearly shown.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Tell me about it. People ask if I have wanted to be king. And I always say absolutely not. I get almost all the same perks without the stress.” He chuckled.
“But the fact that you think the way you do means you are worried about your brother. It’s sweet.”
“The fact that you were worried about missing your sister’s husband’s event shows that you are not as angry as you seem and still want to look out for her.”
We both eyed each other.