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As he closed the door Natalia sagged, saw she’d been clenching the T-shirt she’d been folding so hard there were nail marks in the fabric.
When Natalia arrived back at the palazzo that evening, her mind still buzzing from her exchange with Ben, her mother called her into her private rooms and Natalia knew from the lavender silk evening gown her mother wore that once again royal duty beckoned.
‘Back from your charity work?’ Zoe asked, which Natalia knew was how her mother liked to view her volunteering for Ben Jackson. She nodded, and Zoe turned to a waiting maid. ‘I’ll wear the amethyst parure.’
‘Very good, Your Highness.’ The maid went to fetch the magnificent set of diamond and amethyst earrings, necklace, bracelet cuffs and tiara from her mother’s private safe. Zoe turned to Natalia.
‘We have several foreign dignitaries coming to dine tonight. You will attend. It is perfectly possible that one may represent your future husband.’
Natalia felt an icy plunging sensation in her middle. ‘My engagement to Prince Michel only ended a few weeks ago.’
‘All the more reason to press on. You are twenty-seven years old, Natalia. High time you were married.’
‘It’s the twenty-first century, Mother,’ Natalia protested, even though she’d made this argument before, to little effect. ‘Twenty-seven could be considered young these days.’
‘Not for a princess,’ Zoe replied firmly. ‘In any case, we are not ruled by current fashions. Your marriage is an important negotiation that will strengthen our country.’
‘Plenty of royals marry whomever they please,’ Natalia pointed out, and Queen Zoe arched her eyebrows.
‘You do not, I trust,’ she said, ‘have anyone in mind.’
Ridiculously and unreasonably, Ben—his quirking smile, his powerful body—flashed through her mind. ‘Of course not.’
Zoe sighed. ‘I know it is hard for a young woman to face her royal duty. And perhaps your father and I have been too lenient, allowing you the freedom to live life as you saw fit for too long.’ Although her mother spoke delicately, Natalia still heard the judgment, felt it in herself. She hadn’t done much with her life. She knew that. She just didn’t know how to change, or if she even wanted to. What was the point?
The maid returned with the parure and laid out the pieces on her mother’s vanity. Zoe glanced down at them, her eyes narrowed in assessment. ‘It is time you stepped into the role to which you were born, Natalia. It is time you started acting like a princess.’ The maid lowered the bejewelled tiara onto Zoe’s silver hair. Her mother met Natalia’s gaze in the ornate mirror. Natalia saw compassion there, but also an implacable will she knew she didn’t have the strength or resources to defy. ‘You will start,’ Queen Zoe told her, ‘tonight.’
An hour later, dressed in a sedate and modest evening gown of ivory silk, Natalia followed her mother into the palazzo’s formal receiving room. She hated these evenings. Hated how she felt like a dressed-up doll, or worse, a slab of meat. Something to be assessed and bargained over, and then picked apart or even devoured.
The hours dragged on as her parents engaged the dignitaries in social niceties and political innuendoes that Natalia didn’t even bother to listen to. She’d long ago learned not to have an opinion about any of it. As they headed into the dining room, her mother whispered in her ear once more.
‘At least smile, Natalia. You’re behaving like a block of wood.’
‘I thought that was exactly what you wanted,’ Natalia muttered.
Her mother silenced her with a quelling look and swept into the dining room. Natalia took her place at the table, her mind wandering as the conversation continued to flow around her. Then she heard her name.
‘The Princess Natalia has enjoyed herself, hasn’t she?’ One of the dignitaries—from some Middle Eastern island nation, Natalia thought—glanced at her with a smile, although his words had held a sharp edge.
