Mallory bent over, sticking her face right in front of Kelsey’s. Her long ponytail bobbed as she stayed sideways. “Why? I mean, sure, that was your original plan, but why not think bigger? Why not own this change in status?”
Big sisters were a pain in the butt, something Kelsey had always maintained, but now that she suddenly had two of them, she had twice as much proof. She pushed past Mallory and crossed over to the fireplace to get breathing room from this well-meaning but massively annoying inquisition.
“I sit in front of a computer screen all day. Alone, at home. I’m the poster child for unexciting and uninspiring.”
“Will you stop putting yourself down? You use your vivid imagination to create amazing designs all day.” Before Kelsey could rebut, Mallory held up her hand. “You have a huge heart. You always volunteer to help someone move, or hang out when they’re sick even if it means catching a bug yourself. You design original, marvelous birthday cards online for everyone.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who remembers to buy paper cards and send them three days early.” So old-fashioned, proper. Too bad Mallory couldn’t be the princess. She’d be far better at it.
Her sister didn’t take the I need space hint. Instead, she joined her at the fireplace, tracing a golden vein in the marble mantel. “Both ways make our friends smile. You’re the most loyal and caring person I know. You never had that teenage rebellion period with Mom and Dad because you didn’t want to let them down. You led the boycott of that bookstore that wouldn’t carry the books by Mr. Mason down the block just because they were male/male romance. You care about what is fair and just and right.”
“Ah. I’m Superman?”
“You’re definitely super. So stop worrying about being enough.” With a stern frown, Mallory thrust out her arms to point both index fingers at her. “Just do it.”
“Do what?”
“Care about people. Watch their lives unfold and cheer them on. The same thing you would’ve done in New York—just on a different scale.”
“Different country and continent scale. People over here speak multiple languages. They bop across borders for the weekend. I’m like an architectural miniature of that—1/64th to scale. I’ve never bopped away for adventures.”
“That’s because Mom and Dad were paranoid. They never let us go anywhere. You’d think we were living in twelfth century, barbarian-filled Gaul the way they didn’t trust any cities bigger than ours. The way they didn’t trust any people outside of everyone we already knew.”
An idea slapped Kelsey right in her frontal cortex. She gasped. “Do you think that was because of me? They instilled a feeling of smallness to keep me safe?”
“I think we don’t know anything about what our parents did or didn’t know about you. It’s pointless to guess.”
A knock on the door preceded the footman announcing Elias’s arrival. Kelsey flung it open. She’d put a stop to this sneakiness right now. “Perfect timing. Look, I’m onto you. You had Anya snitch my phone, didn’t you?”
“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Miss Wishner.” He nodded at each of them.
“Skip the formality. You’re in trouble, Elias. I’ve stayed off social media, per Christian’s order. So what’s with the disappearing act?”
“This is…unfortunate.” He slid his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and held out her phone. “I’d hoped to return it before you realized it was missing.”
Even though Kelsey had leaped to the assumption Elias was behind it, seeing that he’d confiscated it was a whole different story.
Was it Christian who didn’t trust her? Or Elias, who was the only one in Moncriano that she did fully trust? Moncrian-an? Crap. She’d better ask Anya how to say it. Her maid filled her in on useful tidbits about the place, as opposed to the centuries-old history and etiquette lessons officially on her schedule. In return, Kelsey was educating her on worthwhile American music.
Kelsey patted both hands to her heart. Right at the very sedately cut neckline to her sedate white sundress topped with a sedate white cardigan. She wasn’t sure if they were dressing her as a princess or a virgin sacrifice to stave off a bad winter. “Isn’t my word that I wouldn’t post on Facebook good enough? You’re checking on me now?”
“No.” His facial features did an allover twitch of distaste, like he’d sniffed milk past the expiration date. “You’re not the one I’m trying to check on, Your Highness.”
Two “your highnesses” in a row. She’d thought they were past that now, what with the French kissing and excellent handsy-ness in the summerhouse. Not to mention a few other kisses they’d snuck in deserted corners. Therefore, Elias really must not want to fess up.
Too bad for him that wasn’t an option.
“That’s nonsensical. Who else would be on my phone?”
Elias placed the phone on the mantel, next to the beautiful clock that enchanted Kelsey every time she looked at it. When he turned back to her, his emotionless bodyguard mask was in place. “Miss Wishner, would you excuse us?” After another nod to Mallory, he gestured to the door. “Allow me to explain—elsewhere.”
Mystified, Kelsey left her suite and followed him to a wing she hadn’t yet explored. It was even more museum-like than her wing, with plush carpets that muffled their footsteps, tapestries on the walls and suits of armor standing sentinel. At the end of the hall, not one but two liveried footmen bracketed a pair of doors with what she now recognized as the royal family’s crest.
“What’s in there?”
“King Julian’s private apartments.”
Kelsey flashed back to her dad’s study at home. A corkboard hung on that door, covered with bad doctor jokes and cartoons he’d collected over the years. Things like your x-ray showed a broken rib, but we fixed it with photoshop and insomnia is a common diagnosis—try not to lose any sleep over it. The cheesier, the better. The door was never closed unless he was on the phone with a patient—and always opened again as soon as he hung up. Ed Wishner prided himself on always being available to his daughters.
Somehow she doubted that after a quick knock, it’d be okay to pop on into the king’s apartments. If the footmen would even let her within three feet of the door. The thought made her both miss her dad…and miss whatever relationship could have evolved over the years with the king. Was it even possible to start now and end up with something as close and vital as she was used to?
Elias pressed on the edge of the molding in the corner. And then the wall opened up.
She gasped. “There’s a secret door? This palace legit has a secret door? Why didn’t you lead with that instead of the tiaras and riches and private planes when you were trying to convince me to come here?”