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“Blue has been the color of Malveauxian royalty for a millennium,” King Frederic explains in that super friendly tone of his that somehow manages to fit judgment, irritation, and condescension into a few short words all at once.
It’s a skill.
“You’re right. In fact, I believe it was King Ivan III back in 1473 who first wore this particular shade of blue and made a royal decree that all subsequent monarchs must prefer it over all other colors,” I say.
I’m quoting Wikipedia’s Malveauxian Royalty page almost word for word.
The King's eyes skim over me briefly before he pulls his lips into the least genuine smile I've seen all day. “Quite.”
I chat for a short time with the Queen and the two princesses, all of whom seem super nice, before Vladimir moves me along to greet the rest of the dignitaries. Once we've finally reached the end of the long line and my face feels like it's frozen into a smile, I see Princess Amelia making a beeline for me.
“I want to talk to you on your own with no bodyguards or pesky parents listening,” she tells me as she hooks her arm through mine.
“Sure thing.” I shoot Vladmir a look and he nods his assent.
She leads me to a quieter end of the hall. “How have you found it all, Princess Madeline? I bet it's so very different from your life back in America. Do you miss it? Do you miss your friends? Do you wish you were back there? Or do you prefer it here now?” Princess Amelia’s pretty face is bright, her big brown eyes shining.
“That’s a lot of questions.”
“Answer as many as you see fit. I don’t mind. I just want to get to know you.”
“Sure.” I count them off on my fingers. “I'm getting used to being here and everyone is super friendly and nice; it's so very different from my life back home, but that's not to say it's not awesome; and I do miss my friends, my best friend in particular, but we chat a lot and I'm sure I'll make new friends here.”
Princess Amelia beams at me. “Well, we find you very, very fascinating, and I for one am more than eager to be one of your new friends, if you'll let me.”
I grin at her. “Of course I'll let you. But we probably won't see all that much of each other. Don’t you live in another country?”
“Oh, but we do so many things together. Our countries have a long history of rivalry, and then once the rest of Europe started rising up against their royal families a few hundred years ago, that rivalry morphed into a history of sticking together and looking after each other. But I imagine you know quite a lot of that from Wikipedia.”
I widen my eyes at her in embarrassment. “How did you?—?”
She waves my concern away. “I've contributed personally to those pages a number of times, although my points often get taken down.”
“What kind of points do you make?”
“Insider tips. You know, things like how Father can be so beastly about allowing me basic freedoms like popping to the shops to buy some new water color paints, or how sometimes it might be nice to wear something other than a red dress to these sorts of occasions.”
I huff a laugh. “You did not write those.”
“I did,” she replies proudly. “Although Father had me blocked from Wikipedia, so now I can't make any changes at all. He said he didn’t, but I know he did.”
We share a smile and I feel like she's already my friend, even though I've only just met her.
A waiter offers us glasses of champagne, and I take one from the tray.
“I could really use a drink about now. This evening has been a lot,” I tell her before I raise the glass to my lips to take a sip.
She places her hand lightly on my forearm as she makes a face. “Oh, you shouldn't drink that. It's utterly ghastly, if you don't mind me saying because I know it's Malveauxian champagne, but really it's just as bad as the tea. That's what my older brother always says. He carries a flask of cordial in his top pocket to put a splash in the champagne, although I had hoped it would be whisky. Much more fun.”
“Wait. Your brother is Prince Alexander, right?”
Amelia rolls her eyes in good humor. “Of course you know who he is. Everyone does. He’s famous. Father’s not wild about it, but Mummy thinks Alex’s profile does wonders for the country, and I agree.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You mean his profile as the Party Prince?” I ask and instantly realize that sounds a touch judgmental. Okay, a lot judgmental. “He's got that reputation, but I'm sure he's an awesome brother.”
She beams at me. “He's the best. I adore him. But then of course I do. He's my older brother. I’ve also got another brother, Max, but he’s at university and can’t be here. He’s the clever one. He’s almost as wonderful, but not quite, mainly because he’s not as much fun as Alex. You met my sister, Sofia, too. She’s great but a touch bossy. You know how older siblings can be.”
“Actually, I wouldn't know how it feels to have an older sibling, or any sibling. I'm an only child,” I admit. “I always wanted a brother. I'm jealous you've got not one, but two, and a sister.”
