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I watch my grandparents for their reaction. Both of them look aghast.
“But she's here. In Malveaux. She must take the role. She simply must,” Grandpapa says, his bushy brows pulled together. “If she doesn’t, the Crown will pass to my brother. Edgar has made it clear that he’ll abolish the monarchy altogether. That’ll be the end of us. The end!”
My grandmama pats his arm. “Why don't we give our granddaughter a chance to settle in before we plan the rest of her life, my darling, hmm? For starters, she might need some refreshments. Tea, Madeline?”
“Sure. Sounds great,” I reply. And a whole lot better than deciding whether I'm going to become the next Queen of a country I haven’t visited since I was a kid.
The Queen turns to Alice, who disappears from the room, presumably to get tea rather than piles of wood to make me a fire on an 80° day.
Although I suppose I need to think in Celsius now that I’m in Europe.
“Shall we sit and talk?” Grandmama gestures at the sofas and chairs.
“Sure thing.” I sit down, kick off my tennis shoes, and tuck one leg under the other.
Vladimir shakes his head almost imperceptibly at me, and I look up to see my grandparents watching me in disbelief.
I jump to my feet. “Oops. Sorry. Protocol, right? Do you guys have to sit first or something?”
I’ve watched Bridgerton and The Crown and Downton Abbey. This might not be England, but it’s at least Europe.
“That’s the usual way of things,” Grandpapa replies.
Thank you, Netflix.
I wait for them to sit and then cautiously return to my seat.
There’s so much to learn. In the movies it's always things like how to know which fork to use while dining, but right now I get the feeling fork usage is only scratching the surface of this whole princess gig.
“Do I get princess lessons?” I ask as I do my best to sit up straight and look demure.
“When you say princess lessons, I assume you mean royal etiquette training?” Grandmama asks.
“Yes. That. Is that something you…offer?” I ask, as though princess lessons are as common a service at the royal palace of Malveaux as tacos are at a Mexican restaurant.
“A newcomer to royalty could certainly benefit from royal etiquette training,” Grandpapa says.
“I have absolute faith that she will,” Grandmama agrees. “I'll have Vladimir arrange it for you.”
Vladimir bows. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
“You’re new at this. You'll get up to speed in no time,” says Dad, my ever-present cheerleader.
Me? I'm not so sure. This whole princess thing feels totally overwhelming right now. I mean, if I don't even know when or how to sit, I have a learning curve as steep as a San Francisco street ahead of me.
You know, if I decide to stay and take on the role full-time.
“You'll need to be brought up to speed fairly promptly, what with your formal welcome ball coming up in a few days’ time,” Grandpapa says.
“My what now?” No one said anything about a welcome ball.
“We’re throwing a ball in your honor, Madeline. A way to say welcome and to introduce you to courtiers, members of parliament, and our great neighbors and friends, the royal family of Ledonia,” he replies. “Although we won’t mention anything about you becoming heir, or anything along those lines. Regardless of your decision on that front, you are and will always be a Malveauxian Princess.”
I swallow, nervous. “How many people will be there?”
“It will be a reasonable size. Approximately 700 guests, I imagine,” Grandmama replies.
700 guests passes for a reasonable size in this country? Yup, I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore. Or Texas.
