The Christmas Princess (12 page)

Hunter hadn’t been any more forthcoming during their dinner with the king.

A king whose lined face seemed infinitely sad to her. When he’d laughed yesterday it had sounded almost rusty.

The atmosphere between the two men practically twanged.

Sharon had said Hunter was born in Bariavak and had been orphaned there. But surely, this tension came from something more personal than monarch and former subject.

A week of preparing her to pretend to be King Jozef’s granddaughter and he’d never thought to mention he knew the man? That was too much to swallow as an accidental oversight. Even for Hunter.

So he’d kept the fact to himself for a reason.

Now, how was she going to find out?

The king dropped a series of bombshells Tuesday, yet didn’t even seem to know he was doing it.

He and April had breakfast, the two of them at a small table in a bay of the kitchen — a much more relaxed meal than dinner had been.

Madame stood well back from them.

“Approach,” King Jozef said.

“Is everything satisfactory, Your Majesty?”

“April?”

“Yes, wonderful. Thank you, Madame Sabdoka.”

The older woman gave the smallest nod. “The digest, sir.” She set a page to one side, within the king’s easy reach.

“Ah, you add my secretary’s duties to all your others, Madame. I am sorry to have burdened you further.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty.” She withdrew.

The king picked up the paper, taking out his glasses. “I receive the most important news of my country when I wake, but this is the complete digest of reports that have arrived overnight.” He put on glasses, read it. “Nothing urgent but I must start my day. This has been most pleasant, April.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

He stood.

She started to rise, trying to remember if any Hunter Rules specifically covered breakfasts.

“No, no, my dear, we shall not stand on formality here. Ah, but one thing I had nearly forgotten: Your wardrobe will be supplemented as needed for the engagements you attend in my company.”

“That’s so kind of you, but I’m sure I won’t need anything. I’ll enjoy quiet times with you here at the embassy. Perhaps we could watch some movies.”

“I shall enjoy watching movies with you that you enjoy. However, even with this not being an official visit, there are obligations I shall fulfill and I would like you to accompany me. As for your wardrobe being sufficient, Madame says otherwise. It will be taken care of. Have a pleasant morning, April. I will be occupied until lunch, but hope to then have some time to spend with you.”

And with that he was gone.

April started the morning trying to write out exactly how she would explain to her relatives that she wasn’t with Reese or working — without saying where she was or what she was doing. After she’d erased more than she’d written, she found herself examining her clothes hanging in the huge closet of the Periwinkle Room.

She realized she was staring into the open closet without seeing anything in from of her.

“This is ridiculous.”

Rufus lifted his head at her voice.

“Yes,” she said to him. “You’re right.”

She bundled up for the raw wind, grabbed Rufus’ leash and headed outside with him.

Before they’d gone a block, the walk’s mind-clearing benefits diminished as she realized Rufus kept looking behind them. She turned and saw Derek.

She stopped and he stopped.

“I don’t need an escort,” she said,

“Pierce’s orders. Any time you leave the grounds.”

She started to say more, but Derek wasn’t the one to discuss it with. “At least walk with us so Rufus doesn’t get a sprained neck trying to keep track of you.”

He grinned, and joined them. They walked a couple miles, talking pleasantly, mostly of dogs and his Thanksgiving visit with family. She meant to tell him about her Thanksgiving, then a memory of Hunter’s face at the homeless shelter stopped her.

In the hallway headed to lunch, she spotted Hunter ahead of her and caught up. “I need to talk to you.”

“No walks alone,” he said. So Derek had reported to him.

“That’s ridiculous. I could understand you wanting me out of sight before meeting King Jozef, but now?”

“Somebody decides you’re a princess and they’re not going to wait for a DNA test.”

“Wait.” He wasn’t going to budge on solo walks and they were almost to the dining room door. She wrapped her hands around his arm to slow him. He looked down at her grip, and her breath came faster, but she needed to tell him this. “We’ll talk about that later. Before we go in, I want to tell you, the king is talking about supplementing my wardrobe. I can’t let him do that.”

“I’ll handle it.” His tone was precise and crisp.

Now she was
really
worried.

But there was no time to try to find out what he intended — or to dissuade him.

The king was already seated at the table, greeting them with a smile and a speculative look that had her saying, “I ran into Hunter in the hall.”

Hunter glanced at her but said nothing.

Conversation during the meal centered on the news of the day. Stiff, but at least a conversation. With the dishes removed, the king said, “I should like to go over these invitations now, April. Unless you are otherwise engaged.”

The last sentence didn’t erase the command in the first.

On the cleared table, the king set three stacks of invitation cards.

“These I have no interest in,” he said of the largest.

“There is a dinner planned this Saturday and the day after Christmas is the annual Receiving Hours here at the embassy when Bariavakians are welcomed. That I must attend. In addition, these—” He tapped two cards that accounted for the smallest pile. “—I intend to accept.” That left one stack. “We can assess these together.”

“April doesn’t have to go to anything she doesn’t want to,” Hunter said.

The king looked at him levelly for a long moment. “Of course not.”

He handed the two invitations to her.

“I’m sure I’d be happy to accompany you to— Oh, yes, this concert at the National Cathedral should be wonderful. I’d love to go with you to that.” She flipped to the second card, looking up quickly. “The White House? Really? The
White House
?”

He smiled at her. “Yes. As I said, there will be some events that require a different wardrobe.”

“We’re taking care of any extra wardrobe for April,” Hunter said.

The arch of the king’s eyebrows reached haughty in a heartbeat, but the eyes beneath them had a roguish glint. “You are, Hunter?”

“The United States government. It is our intention that neither the country of Bariavak nor you, personally, incur expense from this introductory visit.” Hunter’s voice was as formal as his words.

The king leaned back, the haughty arch remaining, the roguishness gone. “How considerate of the government of the United States. I assume that should I acknowledge April as my granddaughter that this government will concede that I have the right to clothe her and otherwise provide for her.”

“If the acknowledgement occurs after a reasonable process of assessment, certainly.”

“I don’t want either one of you ‘clothing’ me,” April said. “I have clothes.”

“She needs to be presented in a manner appropriate to Bariavak’s dignity,” the king said, still looking at Hunter.

“She will be.”

“You do not have the knowledge to see to that. Madame will make arrangements—”

“April’s going to Maurice’s tomorrow night.”

“Maurice’s?” she repeated, stunned.

For the first time King Jozef’s gaze came to her. Then it returned to Hunter, whose gaze had never left the king’s face. “You can arrange this?”

“Yes.”

“Since it pleases April, it is acceptable. Now, these other events.” He picked up the middle pile of cards.

Hunter left as soon as decisions were made on the invitations.

The king lingered, sipping coffee from a fine porcelain cup while they chatted about the holiday events they would attend.

When Madame left the room after assurances that the lunch had been excellent, his eyes followed her. Then he lapsed into silence.

Snippets of moments, gestures, and looks clicked together. The ramifications of the conclusion she formed had to wait, however, because the king abruptly asked, “What do you know of Bariavak, April?”

“Very little. I know where it’s located, the mountains that ring it, and how they’ve have prevented it from being conquered for all the centuries that your family has ruled.”

“Hah. Ruled. The royal family is more ruled than rulers. Our lives are in service of our people. Whatever the sacrifice.”

His gaze went to a portrait that Madame had told her during their tour was of King Jozef’s grandfather.

“So Hunter told you that our country was never conquered because of the blessings of geography. He does not do his ancestors justice. The people of Bariavak do not rile to anger easily, so few have true cause to find fault with us. Yet, once aroused, our people are ferocious fighters, especially in defense of their home. As a result, few have risked invading our mountains. Mountains forbidding to an outsider, but beloved by those of Bariavak and those who love us.”

He shot a look at her before adding, “Our people can be much like our mountains. There are those whose hearts are strong enough to brave the rugged terrain of our mountains and find the sweet valleys and meadows hidden away from most of the world.”

“I’d like to learn more about your country,” she said as calmly as she could. If she wasn’t mistaken, this monarch was pushing her toward exactly what Sharon hard warned her against. She felt like a piece of taffy being stretched. “Madame mentioned a library during our tour yesterday. If I have your permission…?”

She must have taken a wrong turn on her way to the library after walking Rufus with Derek. She thought if she went past the king’s office and turned left she wouldn’t have to backtrack. Maybe. Madame’s voice coming from an open doorway down the hall — the office — stopped her.

Instinct told her they were discussing her.

“…for you or even for our country is not mine to say. Here, though — here is mine to say. Such ignorance of the ways of such an establishment, or of our country—”

Something she and Madame agreed on. It was the reason she was searching for the library.

“—Such disruption—”

“Such life,” the King’s voice said. “It has been a long time since such life.” He said another word that April did not recognize.

The pause that followed both made her wish she could see their faces and know that she had to withdraw. Now. This was private.

April hadn’t left the embassy since walking the dog. Hunter was sure of that. For starters, her coat was still in the closet by the back entry.

But she wasn’t with the king. She sure as heck wasn’t with Madame. She wasn’t in her room, the family dining room, or any of the official rooms.

Wherever she was, Rufus was with her.

He opened the closed door to the library. She was sitting on the floor, her back to a window seat on the south wall, the area around her cluttered with books, but with a space carved out for Rufus, who was stretched out along her leg, with his chin resting on her shin. The dog had heard his entry, judging by the flickering of his ears, but didn’t stir. Either he’d identified the new arrival or he was a lousy watchdog.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Her head snapped up. Now the dog raised his head, too.

“Hunter. You startled me.”

“The time to be startled is before I’m five feet away.”

She smiled. As if he’d been joking. “Did you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, I come with a message from Madame. It’s okay, you can relax. It’s actually a directive from the king, which he’s relaying through Madame so she knows it’s what he wants.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any more relaxed.”

He grinned. “We’re supposed to call him
sir
when we address him in informal circumstances. Instead of Your Majesty.”

“Are there any informal circumstances?”

“Figure any time you’re talking to him in the embassy or one-on-one outside it. So, what are you doing?” he repeated.

“Reading. About Bariavak.” Her brows dropped. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“What’s wrong with my reading about Bariavak.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “Nothing I know of. Don’t know why you’d want to, though.” He looked around. “Seems to be plenty of other reading choices.”

“It’s interesting. The country’s history, I mean. Maybe I got an interest in history from Leslie. Oh, Leslie’s my—”

“I know who she is.”

“Ah. Well, she works in preservation.”

He knew that, too. He sat at the end of the window seat, so she didn’t have to crane her neck. The dog had settled back with a sigh. Hard to tell if it was contented or irked at the interruption. “This is only for a couple weeks. No need to learn the history of a country you’ll never see.”

She started to say something. Stopped. Then said mildly, “Have to do something to keep myself occupied. Can’t do what I did for Gerard Littrell.

“What
did
you do?”

She slanted a look at him, clearly taken aback by the question. “Like you don’t already know,” she said. Smart. She’d bought herself time to gather her thoughts, rather than blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Tell me your version.”

She turned to look at him directly. “Unless you’re trying to hint at those ridiculous rumors that we were lovers.”

“I rarely hint. Tell me your version,” he repeated.

“He was a talented writer who had many more stories to tell, but his health, his personality, and his lack of organization had made writing nearly impossible for him. And that made him feel dead before he had to be. I smoothed his way wherever I could, then bossed and cajoled him into overcoming the obstacles I couldn’t smooth away. Most of the time he tolerated me, sometimes he railed at me. But at the end of each day he loved that he had written when he wouldn’t have otherwise.”