Her lashes drifted down to lay on her cheeks. “I’m just so sad that she gave up, that she threw away the chance to experience everyday joys. Not only watching Christian and Genevieve grow up, but walking at sunset with her husband. Eating a perfectly ripe peach. Being there for a friend when they have a bad day.”
Perhaps he could help, a little, thanks to the basic education that every citizen of Moncriano now received in school about noting and dealing with mental illness. King Julian had insisted on adding it to all health curriculum the same year his wife died.
“I don’t think she was giving up. She sought an escape from pain. If it helps, Queen Serena’s death prompted an overhaul in the kingdom’s mental-health practices. We now have the lowest incidence of post-partum suicides in all of Europe. Doctors no longer take a wait-and-see approach after birth. They’re extremely proactive in treatment.”
“Well, that’s a good thing.” Kelsey threw back the entire contents of her glass. Then she stared down into the dregs of the syrupy liquid for a few long, quiet moments. “I’d like to do something about it, in honor of the queen. My mother. Something to help others, to ease their suffering.”
There was that giant heart of hers, pushing past her own grief to think of others. This woman was truly born to be a princess, taking care of a nation, even if she didn’t realize it. Elias was so proud of her. “That’s a noble sentiment.”
She looked up, her violet eyes wide and beseeching. “I don’t know what I could do, though. Maybe volunteer an hour of babysitting once a week so that they can go to therapy?”
Elias bit back a laugh. Her heart might act like a princess’s, but her head still needed training. “Perhaps that’d be a bit too hands-on. It could spiral out of control quite quickly. And you wouldn’t be able to help very many. You could hold a fund-raiser.”
“Tiaras and long-winded toasts?” Her nose wrinkled. “I’d like to be more hands-on than that.”
His hands slid down to stroke up and down the thin cotton sweater covering her upper arms. “What about a visit to a mental-health clinic specializing in post-partum?”
“Shaking hands? Smiling? What actual good will that do?”
And they were back to the same argument. Him trying to impress upon Kelsey how very important she was to the country. Although it seemed impossible, it had only been nine days, not enough time to absorb even a tenth of her role and what it meant.
Nine days also shouldn’t have been enough time for him to grow to care so damned much about her…
“It will give tremendous hope. Pride. Your visit would be the equivalent of a course of penicillin. I know you don’t believe it yet, but I think you will once you do your first walkabout, and see the enormous reaction that ensues.”
Her brow smoothed out. Determination squared her shoulders. “Okay, but not on September fourteenth. That’d be too sad. At least this year.”
“Why not that date?”
“Because that’s my birthday. The day she killed herself.”
“Ah no.” Fuck. “The queen took her life on your—Princess Valentina’s—birthday. August seventh.”
Kelsey stared at him, then she grabbed his glass off the mantel and tossed it back like a shot. Kicking off her shoes, she took a fast circle of the perimeter of the room. She stopped behind a pair of maroon leather-wing chairs.
“My birthday isn’t even right? Are you freaking kidding me, Elias?”
What the hell was she getting schooled in all day, every day? How had nobody gone over the basics of her original life with her yet?
He crossed the room in three long strides. Then Elias drew her around the chair, sat, and pulled her onto his lap. “Look, that isn’t bad news. There’s an obvious silver lining. Now you get two birthdays.”
It was the weakest of attempts to comfort her. Kelsey wasn’t a child, to be distracted with the promise of twice as much cake and presents. But if there was a guidebook that told the right way to handle this constant barrage of strange upheavals that was her reality now, then nobody had damn well shared it with him.
“But I don’t know which one is real. Which me is real?”
Elias didn’t have the answer, and he wasn’t sure what to hope that she’d discover. Because whether she returned to America or stayed at the palace, Kelsey wouldn’t be allowed to stay with him.
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.