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She’d always been a sweet woman, though as Portia remembered, she’d also been feisty in her day and not always in agreement with her sister, Joanna. The two would argue when they thought Portia couldn’t hear. She never knew what they argued about, but as soon as Portia would step into the room, they’d shoot each other a glare and stop arguing, pretending things were all fine and dandy. Which they were, most of the time. Portia missed her parents, but she’d never discount the love Grandma Joanna and Great-Aunt Margreta bestowed upon her. It was the least she could do for her aunt to see to her care here at Somerset Village.
“Auntie, are they treating you well here?”
She nodded. “I’m fine, dear. The food’s better now. We have a new chef and he doesn’t cut corners. You’ll see. You’ll stay for lunch?”
“Of course I will. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Then I’ll get dressed up and we’ll go to the dining room later.”
“Okay. Auntie, I have good news.” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “I’m engaged.”
Margreta squeezed her eyes closed. “Is it to Johnny Valente? That boy wouldn’t leave you alone when you were younger. I never liked him. “
Johnny Valente? Portia used to play with him in grade school, two decades ago. He was a bully who’d called her Polar Bear Portia, because of her light hair and skin tone. “Gosh no, Auntie. I never liked him, either.” She hoped her aunt wasn’t digressing. “I’m engaged to...” How should she say this? “I met this wonderful man when I was visiting Alma.”
“What’s Alma?”
“It’s this beautiful island country just off the coast of Spain. I met him at his coronation. Auntie, he was just crowned king. His name is Juan Carlos Salazar, King Montoro of Alma.”
Aunt Margreta put her head down. “I see.”
Her aunt’s odd reaction surprised her. “Do you like my ring?”
She gave Portia’s left hand a glance. “It sparkles.”
“Yes, it does.”
“But it looks old.”
“Yes, I suppose it’s at least fifty years old. It was his mother’s ring. He...lost his family at a young age also.”
“In a car accident, just like your mother and father?”
“Yes, the same way. We have a lot in common.”
Pain entered her aunt’s eyes. “That’s terribly sad, isn’t it?” Her aunt made a move to get up from the chair. “Is it time for lunch yet, dear?”
Portia’s eye twitched. “Not yet, Auntie.”
Her aunt relaxed back into her seat.
“Auntie, I have a question to ask you. It’s very important to me, so please try to concentrate. I will be marrying a king and, well, since I also have royal bloodlines, my fiancé wants very much for me to carry out the protocols of my homeland during our wedding. Do you know where I might find that information? I can’t seem to find anything about our family’s rule before World War II.”
Aunt Margreta put her head down again.
“Auntie, please. Try to remember.”
“There are no protocols from the family,” she said stoically.
“But surely...there have to be. Have you forgotten?”
“No, my dear. I have not forgotten. Your grandmother and I never saw eye to eye about this.”
“About what, Auntie?”
Margreta stilled. “Tell no one. Tell no one. Tell no one,” she repeated.
“Not even me, Auntie? What is it you’re not supposed to tell?”
Margreta looked straight ahead, as if Portia wasn’t there. As if she was going back in time, remembering. “Don’t tell Portia. She must never know the truth.”
“What?” Portia absorbed her words, but they didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean, I must never know the truth? What truth?” Portia grabbed her aunt’s hand, gently squeezing. “Auntie, please. You have to tell me.”
Her aunt turned to stare at her. “You are not a princess,” she said. Her voice was sorrowful, etched in pain and Portia’s heart sunk at her earnest tone. “Our family never ruled in Samforstand. Your mother wasn’t royalty and neither was my sister, Joanna. It’s all a lie.”
Surely, the old woman was having a senile episode. “But, Auntie, of course Grandmother was queen. She raised me. I would know if she wasn’t.”
Silence.
“Aunt Margreta, please?”
