H.R.H. (21 page)

She slept most of the way to Frankfurt, and then looked out the window in silence. She was thinking of Fiona … then Parker … she called him in Boston the moment she got off the flight in Frankfurt, and told him everything that had happened, to Fiona, the border skirmishes, and the beginning of another war. He was stunned, as she sobbed.

“My God, Cricky, are you all right?” He couldn't believe what she'd told him about Fiona. She had described how they found her, and as she told him she cried all over again. She sounded completely overwrought.

“I love you,” she said over and over again, unable to stop crying. “I love you so much.” She hadn't seen him in nearly two months. It felt like centuries after everything that had happened.

“Cricky, I love you, too. I want you to go home and calm down. Rest. And as soon as you can get away, I'll meet you in Paris.”

“All right,” she said weakly, feeling as though she couldn't live another day without him. It had already been too long, and far too many terrible things had happened. He sounded as badly shaken as she was.

“Just go home, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Everything will be all right,” he reassured her, wishing he could put his arms around her. She sounded as though she were in shock.

“No, it won't,” she sobbed. “Fiona's dead, Parker. It won't ever be all right for her.”

“I know,” he said, trying to soothe her, unable to believe what had happened. It seemed impossible to believe that lively, fiery, wonderful, loving Fiona was gone. “I know. But everything will be all right for us. I'll see you in Paris very soon.” But she just cried harder knowing that it would probably be for the last time. She couldn't stand any more goodbyes or losses. She had to leave him then to catch her next flight, to Zurich. And he was worried about her. She sounded awful, and badly shaken, but who wouldn't have been, after everything she'd been through. “Can I call you at home?” he asked cautiously. She had given him the numbers before he left, but told him not to use them unless he had to. She didn't want to arouse suspicions. But this time Parker wanted to check on her. He was seriously worried about her, with good reason. She had never been so upset in her life.

“No, don't. I'll call you,” she said, sounding nervous. Everything in her mind was a jumble. Fiona was dead. Parker was in Boston forever. Her friends in Senafe were going to be in a war zone. And now she had to face her father, when she didn't even feel ready to go home. In the space of seventeen hours, she had gone from one side of the world to another, she felt like a plant that had been ripped out of the rich African soil and had been suddenly uprooted. Liechtenstein no longer felt like home to her. She felt as though she belonged in Senafe. And her heart was in Boston with Parker. She was utterly confused, and as she and Parker hung up, she couldn't stop crying. She looked at Sam and Max, and they looked nearly as unhappy as she did. They had loved it there, too, but there had been no question in their minds that morning, and they had a single-minded goal. They had to get her out.

“I'm sorry we left like that, Your Highness. We had to do our jobs this time. It was time to leave.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “It went so wrong in the end, with Fiona and the breaking of the truce, and the border skirmishes. What will happen to all those people if they have to live through another war?” It made her heart ache to think about it, they were such kind, loving people. And she missed all her friends in the camp as though they were her brothers and sisters.

“It will be very hard for them if this war really takes hold,” Max said honestly. He and Sam had talked about it at length on the flight. The UN was trying to step in, but they hadn't been able to stop it last time.

“I worry about the people in the camp, too,” Christianna added.

“They'll know when to get out. They've been through this before.” But there had been no question that she needed to get out sooner than they did. Max and Sam were both well aware that if something happened to her, it would have been disastrous. The prince would never have forgiven them, nor would they ever have forgiven themselves.

She was quiet on the last leg of the flight, from Frankfurt to Zurich. She had nothing left to say. She was so grief-stricken she was numb. The loss of her friend, the absence of the man she loved, how hopeless their situation was, no matter how much they loved each other, and being torn from the place she had come to love for the past nine months—all of it together was almost more than she could bear. And now, in spite of the joy of seeing her father again, she felt as though she were going home to prison, to be trapped in Vaduz for eternity, doing her duty to her father and their country, sacrificing herself more than ever before. She felt as though she were being punished for having been born royal. It had become, and had always been for her, an intolerable burden. She felt torn between what she had been taught she owed her ancestors, her country, and her family, and what her heart longed for, Parker, the only man she had ever loved.

The plane landed in Zurich, and her father was waiting for her at the airport. He put his arms around her, and there were tears in his eyes. He had been so desperately worried about her in those final hours. He couldn't have borne it if he had lost her. He looked gratefully at Max and Sam for getting her out before something terrible had happened. The news reports he had been following closely had gotten worse since she left Asmara.

She looked up at him, and smiled, and he could see instantly that a different person had come home. She was a woman, and not a girl anymore. She had loved and lived and worked and grown. And as it had done to others before her, the beauty of Africa and all she had learned and discovered there had crept into her very soul.

They waved her through customs in Zurich as they always did. They never even glanced at her passport. They didn't need to. They knew who she was and smiled at her. This time she looked at them and didn't smile back. She couldn't.

She got into the Rolls beside her father, with his familiar driver, and the bodyguard in the passenger seat. Sam and Max were following in another car, with two other bodyguards who were happy to see them. They weren't as devastated as Christianna was. It had been a job to them, although they had come to love it, too. And they were also sad to be back. Their old familiar world suddenly looked so different to them, just as it did to Cricky.

Cricky said little on the drive to Liechtenstein. She held her father's hand in silence and looked out the window. It was autumn and the weather was beautiful. But she missed Senafe. He knew everything that had happened, or thought he did. He knew about Fiona, and of Christianna finding her. He thought what he was seeing was her deep shock over that. He had no idea that what he was seeing was her sense of desolation over losing Parker too. Even if she hadn't completely lost him yet, she knew she would. And even if they met in Paris, there was no way they could continue doing so, without creating a scandal, like one of Freddy's, and she wouldn't do that to her father. She couldn't. She owed him more than that.

“I missed you, Papa,” she said, as she turned to look at him. He was looking at her so tenderly that she knew yet again that she couldn't break his heart by betraying everything she'd been born to. So she was offering her own heart as a sacrifice instead, and Parker's. Two hearts for one. It seemed a terrible price to pay for duty.

“I missed you, too,” her father said quietly. She held his hand, and once they reached Vaduz, she saw the familiar palace where she had grown up. But it no longer felt like coming home to her. Parker was home. Senafe was home. The people she had loved there had been home. The people in the life she had been born to had all become strangers to her in the last nine months. She had come home a different woman. And even her father knew it.

She got out of the car quietly. The servants she had grown up with were waiting for her. Charles came bounding up to her, and as he put his paws on her and licked her face, she smiled. And then she saw Freddy, waving to her from the distance. He had come from Vienna specially to see her. And in her heart of hearts, she felt nothing. The dog followed her inside, and she heard someone shut the door behind her. Freddy put his arms around her and kissed her. Charles barked. Her father smiled at her, and she smiled sadly at all of them. She wanted to be happy to see them, but she wasn't. She had been deposited in a family of strangers. Everyone who spoke to her called her Your Serene Highness. It was exactly who she didn't want to be, who she hadn't been for nine extraordinary months. She didn't want to be Christianna of Liechtenstein again. All she wanted to be was Cricky of Senafe.

Chapter 14

O
nce home, Christianna continued to follow news of the situation in Eritrea with intense interest. She was worried about her friends. And the situation did not sound good. There were continuing border violations, and many people had already been killed. Eritreans were starting to flee the country again, as they had before. The war was slowly getting under way, and although she hated to admit it, her father had been right to force her to come home.

Her heart still ached over Fiona. She thought constantly about the laughter they had shared, how angry Fiona had been when she found out that Christianna was a princess, and she felt that she'd been holding out on her by keeping it a secret. She thought of all the good times they'd had together, and that terrible morning when they'd found her, and how horribly she had died. Christianna could only hope that the end had come fast. But even if in seconds, she must have faced such agony and terror. It was hard to get that hideous image out of her head, of Fiona, naked, like a rag doll, lying facedown in the mud and rain, having been stabbed again and again.

In both good and bad ways, Christianna had changed forever in Eritrea. She had loved every moment of it, the people she'd met, worked and lived with, the places she had seen. It was all woven into the fiber of her being, and now she felt more like a stranger here than there. In Senafe she had been herself, the best self she had ever been. In Vaduz she had to be the one she had resisted all her life. In fact, she had to give herself up almost completely to be there. She had to surrender to duty and history. And worst of all, in order to be who she was destined to be, she had to give up the man she loved. She couldn't think of a worse fate. It felt like a living death to her every day. She loved her father and her brother, but being back in Vaduz continued to feel like a life sentence in prison to her. She had to force herself to get out of bed every day and do what was expected of her. She did it, by sheer force and selfdiscipline, but she felt as though a piece of her died every day. No one saw it, but she knew it. She was withering inside.

She and Parker wrote to each other by e-mail every day. She called him in Boston a few times once she was back, but he was afraid to call her. Christianna didn't want anyone aware of him, nor for anyone, particularly her father, brother, or security, to see his name on a message lying somewhere. E-mail was the only communication that was safe. And even there she held out no hope for the future to him. There wasn't any. And misleading him now, or harboring hopes herself, would have been too cruel. They had no hope, all they had now were memories of a golden time, and the love they shared.

She loved her exchanges with him, their laughter, even if only on screen. He told her how his work was going, and she told him about her days. Most of the time she just told him what she felt. She was more than ever in love with him, and he with her.

She attended numerous state events with her father, and two dinners in Vienna. And they went to an enormously fancy party in Monte Carlo, given by Prince Albert. It was the Red Cross Ball, which had particular meaning for her, although she had had no real desire to attend the ball. She was back in her traces again, the yoke of duty on her neck, her father's hostess in Vaduz and Vienna, and ever on his arm when they went out.

Freddy was living in Liechtenstein Palace in Vienna, and playing all over Europe. He traveled on yachts with friends, and spent a week in St. Tropez in September. As always, the paparazzi followed him, hoping to get some tidbit or scandal. Lately, he had been better than usual, but the press knew, as Christianna and her father did, that with Freddy it was only a matter of time before he was in the soup again, and being served up on a silver platter by the press. He had visited Victoria in London several times, and she was engaged again, to a rock star this time, in honor of whom she had gotten a huge heart tattooed on her chest, and dyed her hair green. Freddy loved hanging out with her. She moved in a racy crowd that suited him. And once in a while, when he had nothing else to do, he came home for a visit to Vaduz.

It unnerved him to see how mature Christianna had become, how determined her efforts to please their father. She visited the sick in hospitals and orphanages constantly, went to see old people in convalescent centers, spoke at libraries, and posed constantly for photographs. She was doing exactly what she was supposed to do, without a single word of complaint, but when he looked into her eyes on one of his visits home, what he saw there made his heart ache. Even Freddy could see the price she was paying for the life she led.

“You need to have more fun,” he told her one morning over breakfast, on a gloriously sunny day in Vaduz toward the end of September. “You're getting old before your time, my love.” She had turned twenty-four that summer, and he was about to turn thirty-four, with no sign whatsoever of his settling down or growing up.

“What do you suggest?” Christianna asked him practically.

“Why don't you go to the South of France for a couple of weeks? The sailboat races are next week. Victoria rented a house in Ramatuelle, and you know how much fun her house parties are.” It was all he could think of to suggest. And there was no question, it would have been fun. But then after that, what? Back to Vaduz again, and the weight of painful duties forevermore. Christianna was depressed about it from the moment she came home, and Freddy's well-meant but superficial suggestions didn't help. In fact, there was no real solution to the problem, except resignation and surrender. And to add fuel to the fire of her despair and loneliness, she had been obliged to give up love, of her own accord.

“I feel as though I ought to be here to help Papa. I've been away for so long.” And he enjoyed her company so much. He said it every day.

“Father can manage fine without you,” Freddy said, stretching his long, elegant legs out before him. He was an incredibly handsome young man, and women fell into his hands like grapes dropping off the vine. “He manages fine without me,” Freddy laughed, and his sister sighed. She had given up so much to be home and pick up the thread of her duties again. She wondered when he would do the same, if ever. And most of the burdens that rested on her, and were keeping her from Parker, were because her brother shouldered none at all. It was hard not to resent him for it.

“When are you going to grow up?” she asked him pointedly. Even she was getting tired of his constant partying and irresponsibility. It was tedious at their age, although previously she had forgiven him all. But his lifestyle no longer seemed as charming to her as it once had. She was shouldering his responsibilities as well as her own.

“Maybe never. Or not until I have to,” he said honestly. “What do I have to grow up for? Father is going to live for a long time. I'm not going to be reigning prince for years. I'll grow up when I am.” She didn't say it to him, but wanted to, by then it might be too late. He had developed bad habits over the years and was incredibly self-indulgent. He was the exact opposite of his extremely responsible sister. Her willingness to be there for their father enabled Freddy to be who he was, and wasn't.

“You could help Father more than you do,” she said tersely. “He has an immense burden on him constantly, worrying about the country's economy, dealing with economic and humanitarian issues, keeping our trade pacts in order with other countries. It would make life much easier for him if you took an interest in some of it.” She tried to encourage him, but as he had all his life, Freddy did nothing. He just played.

“You've gotten awfully serious while you were away,” he said, looking slightly annoyed at her. He didn't like being reminded of his duties, or called to order. His father had all but given up on it, and rarely did now. He just relied more and more on Christianna and it didn't please Freddy to be reprimanded by his younger sister, particularly if she was right. “I find that very boring,” Freddy said, with an edge to his voice.

“Maybe real life is boring,” she said, sounding older than her years. “I don't think that grown-ups have fun every day, at least not those in our particular situation. We have a responsibility to Father
and
the country, to set an example for people, and do what's expected of us, whether we like it or want to, or not. Remember? ‘Honor, Courage, Welfare.’ ”

It was the family code by which they lived, or were supposed to. Her father and Christianna did. It had never meant a lot to Freddy, in fact nothing at all. His honor was questionable. He was not courageous about anything. And the only welfare that had interested him so far was his own.

“When did you get so holy?” he asked her irritably. “What did they do to you in Africa?” He had recognized in recent weeks that she had changed. She was no longer the young girl she had been when she left. She was a woman now, in all senses of the word. And when he looked into her eyes, she seemed pained.

“I learned a lot of things,” she said quietly, “from some wonderful people,” those that she had worked with as well as those she had gone to help. She had fallen in love with both, and with a man she loved deeply, and had given up for her father and country. She had seen a beloved friend die, and the country erupt in war. She had seen a lot in the nine months she was gone, and had come home a different person. Freddy could see it, and wasn't sure he liked it. He was finding her ever-increasing sense of responsibility painfully annoying.

“I think you're getting a bit tedious, my darling sister,” he said with an edge to his voice. “Perhaps you need to have more fun, and spend less time trying to curb mine.” There was a tartness to his answer, as he stood up and stretched lazily. “I'm going back to Vienna today, and then I'm flying to London to see friends.” It was an endless merry-go-round with him, from one entertainment to another. She wondered how he could stand it. It was such an empty life. How many parties could one go to? How many starlets and models could one chase? While everyone else did all the work.

He left that morning after saying goodbye to her, and there was an uneasiness between them. He didn't like her criticizing him or reminding him of his duties. And she didn't enjoy watching him waste his life in constant dissipation. She was still annoyed about it, when she got an e-mail from Parker that morning. He was suggesting they meet in Paris.

Her first inclination was to say no to him, although she had promised him she would one day. The downside of it was that they would only get more attached to each other, fall more in love, and suffer even more than they already had, when they had to leave each other. And how many times could she do that? At some point, someone would recognize her, the paparazzi would come, and she would become as big a disgrace as Freddy, perhaps even worse since she was a woman, and her country's attitudes about women were so archaic, possibly the most in Europe. She hesitated for a few minutes after she read his e-mail, and then picked up the phone to call him. She was going to tell him no. But the moment she heard his voice, she melted.

“Hi, Cricky,” he said gently. “How's it going there?” She sighed, trying to know how to answer him, and decided to be honest.

“It's so hard. I just had breakfast with my brother. Some things don't change, or not much. All he does is play and party and fool around, and have fun, while my father works like a dog, and I do everything I can to help him. It's just not fair. He has no sense of responsibility at all. He's thirty-four, and acts like he's eighteen. I love him, but sometimes I get so tired of all his nonsense.” And she knew her father did, too. It put that much more responsibility on her shoulders and his as well. She felt obliged to make up for him in every way she could, and was beginning to resent him for it. She had never felt that way about it before Senafe. But she hadn't been in love with Parker then. Before she left, her brother had seemed like a charming, naughty boy who, most of the time, amused her. Now, since she was giving up so much, it was far less amusing. Parker thought she sounded tired, and sad.

“What do you think about Paris?” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“I don't know,” she said honestly. “I'd love to, but I worry that we're just delaying the agony.” She didn't add the words “of pulling the plug,” which was how she saw it. There was just no other solution. At some point, she could try to talk to her father about it, but she had virtually no hope. Given how her father viewed things, a commoner in Boston, even if a respectable young doctor, was not something he would allow. He was not a prince, or even a royal. Christianna being with him violated all her father's beliefs, and hopes for her. He didn't care how many other princes and princesses in other countries were marrying commoners these days. He had no intention of mitigating his opinions or compromising. And for the moment, he had no idea Christianna was in love. And once he did, she knew her father. In the end, he would ask her to give him up, and she would have to. In her position, she could not go against the tides of a thousand years of tradition, or the deathbed wishes of her mother. The currents were just too strong, and eventually the love she shared with Parker would have to die. Realizing that again made her heart ache every time. And trying to explain it to him was worse.

“I'm just trying to keep the patient alive until we find a cure for the illness,” he said, still cherishing his hopes and dreams and love for her. He was not willing to give up, not yet at least, and hopefully never.

“There is no cure, my love,” she said softly, longing to see him. She was twenty-four years old, deeply in love with a wonderful man. It was hard to explain even to herself why she should stamp it out, for a country and a series of ancient traditions, or even for her father, or because her brother was inadequate for the throne. She felt pulled a thousand ways.

“Let's just meet in Paris,” he said gently. “We don't have to solve all the problems now. I miss you, Cricky. I want to see you.”

“I want to see you, too,” she said sadly. “I wish we could just go to Massawa for the weekend.” She smiled, remembering their weekend there. They had had so much fun. Their days in Africa together had been so much easier than these.