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.