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“Dr. Weiss, thank you so much. You’re an inspiration –”
A man in a suit rushes past her, practically elbowing her out of the way. “Excuse me, Dr. Lawson. A word?”
Both of our mouths open in shock. The man holds out an embossed envelope gilt in gold leaf. “King Francis requests an audience with you.”
I open the invitation in stunned silence.
“Tomorrow at noon?” I ask, not quite believing my eyes.
“Yes, at the palace. Will you accept?”
“Yes. I will. How do I RSVP?”
“You just did, Doctor.” The man bows and leaves as quickly as he came. I try to make conversation, but all I can think about is the fact that I’ll be at the palace tomorrow, not as staff but as an ‘honored dignitary,’ to borrow the language of the invitation.
The King takes a step back and beams. “Ellie! Ellie, let me look at you.”
It sinks in that I’m really in his private meeting space, which I usually only saw through the small opening when the door swung to let someone in. A few times, Ricky and I would hide behind Mom’s desk to give her a scare. The time-outs, if you can even call it that, were more than worth it.
Several homes could fit inside the airy space. The yellow walls accent the rich blue rugs perfectly, and the furniture gleams silk and gold. A feast that could serve twenty calls out from a large table by the wall, and I swivel my head looking for other guests. I get goosebumps when I realize it’s just me.
“I swear, I almost called you Mathilde,” King Francis says, welcoming me into a hug.
I flinch a little bit at hearing my mother’s name. It’s so strange to be in this place without her here. It felt like a second home in childhood, especially the freedom I had when I was just one of the kids. That was before I realized they were kids who owned a country, and I was a kid whose mother served them.
I’m sure they could sense the difference once I discovered it, or once they did. Especially Ricky. But he probably doesn’t even remember me now.
“It’s so good to be around someone who remembers my mom. Sometimes she exists so much in my head, without talking about her, that she feels imaginary.”
King Francis closes his eyes. “No, she was far from imaginary. She was an incredible person.”
She died two years ago of a sudden pulmonary embolism, instantly yet painlessly. I miss her every day.
“Here, come, sit.” The King gestures toward a light blue settee next to a coffee table. The furniture looks like it should be in a museum rather than holding up my humble butt. Or not-so-humble, thank God. Something else I inherited from my mother.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
His nostrils flare from across the coffee table in his own luxurious seat. I’m afraid I’ve broken protocol. “Ellie. You’re family. Please. Francis.”
The blood rushes to my head. “No. Really?”
“Yes. By royal edict.”
I give him a puzzled look.
“I’m a royal, and it’s my edict.”
Question answered, then.
“I guess I’ll just have to call you your name in that case, Your Majesty.” I grin at the King. Like hell I’m gonna call him Francis.
“Already in violation!” He gives the rakish smile that always persuaded my mother to do one last errand or make one more call declining an invitation from Lord Snootishire or Baron Von Boring.
He takes a moment just looking at me, sizing me up, and I’m sure comparing me to my mother. Although it’s for an uncomfortably long amount of time. Am I not dressed appropriately? I’ve never been good at knowing those things.
“There are so many memories of coming here with my mother.” I look around at the room and point.
“She’d be so proud of you, you know. All that you’ve accomplished.”
