AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A pinprick of fear welled in her chest. Could she know? Would Danyl have told her?
But Danyl’s slight shrug suggested that he was as confused as she.
‘Elizabeth, put the poor girl down. She must be exhausted after the flight,’ her husband commanded in almost accentless English, and from somewhere in her memory she fished the information that explained Hashid had attended Eton, and had been disappointed when Danyl had chosen NYU.
‘We’re so pleased that you could come to the gala. It’s such a long way for you, but we really do appreciate it,’ said the Queen, having almost reluctantly released Mason from her embrace. ‘After all, it wouldn’t be a true celebration of your incredible success at the Hanley Cup without you here.’
There was a flurry of activity over the Queen’s shoulder, and Mason watched as the older woman schooled her features into something that managed to be both courteous yet simultaneously disapproving.
‘Ah, yes. Danyl, your date for the gala arrived a few hours ago.’
Mason had prepared herself for this. She hadn’t needed Danyl to tell her that he already had a plus one. It was only logical for a man on the hunt for a bride, if the newspapers were to be believed. Over the past eighteen months he’d been seen with a series of high-profile dates that had led to insatiable speculation of just who would win the Princess lottery. Speculation she had tried to remain firmly outside of. Because it hurt. Because it reminded her of all the things it might have been.
‘Oh,’ Mason said, turning to Danyl, hoping that her expression would be curious, rather than pained, ‘is Birgetta here?’ Deep down her money had been on the poised Scandinavian blonde she had seen pictures of him with at some Greek charity event a few months back.
‘Who,’ his mother interjected archly, ‘is Birgetta?’
‘Birgetta is...a friend,’ he finished as if the word friend had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Mason almost felt sorry for him. Almost. ‘I believe that she has run off with her personal assistant and is currently in the process of causing a bit of a ruckus on the Croatian coast.’
‘Then who is...?’ Mason trailed off, both because of the impertinence of the question, and because the flurry of activity behind the Queen had suddenly appeared amongst them.
‘Danyl!’
A young blonde in an improbable amount of tulle and frills collapsed into the group, almost sending his parents scattering, launching herself and her big blue eyes right into Danyl.
‘It’s so good to see you!’ she exclaimed, rushing into a stream of words so fast that Mason could only pick out the occasional syllable.
As Mason hung back she dared to cast a glance at Danyl, who seemed almost horrified by the sudden appearance of the young woman, the shock of it clearly robbing him momentarily of his ability to disguise his feelings. It was cruel to smile, because the young girl—though she was clearly totally inappropriate for him—had an uncontainable joy and enthusiasm about her. And for just a moment an ache formed in her chest, as she remembered that perhaps once she had been like that. So free and uninhibited.
Danyl called to a man over her shoulder and asked him to escort Mason to her rooms. She’d almost expected him to say ‘chambers’, but when she caught sight of who he’d asked she couldn’t help the smile form on her lips.
‘Michaels,’ she said and just about stopped herself from greeting him with a hug, the way that she had almost ten years before. She felt rather than saw Danyl flinch, tension suddenly cutting through the air about them as if he recognised the moment she feared she’d given herself away.
‘Miss McAulty. You look well,’ Michaels replied and she couldn’t help but smile at the bland pleasantry. She’d been dragged halfway across the world, was wearing rumpled jeans and a T-shirt and was currently only being held up by adrenaline and three hours’ sleep.
‘You are too kind,’ she said, with a dryness that only made him smile more.
She suddenly felt out of her depth, alienated from the decorum and the rules of etiquette she had never really known. And then she realised that she’d never seen Danyl in a royal setting, that their relationship had only existed outside this part of his life. And now, as she looked at the young European Princess taking all of Danyl’s somewhat reluctant attention, she concluded that she would never be in this part of his life either.
She must have taken her leave of Hashid and Elizabeth, and must have bid appropriate farewells, and must have on some level taken in the stark beauty of the palace, the detailed tile work, the arches and mosaics left by previous generations of rulers, but could remember very little of it by the time she reached her ‘rooms’.
Michaels had stopped just shy of becoming the bellboy, pointing towards the small holdall she had last seen on the plane, now positioned alone in the centre of a room that swamped it and made it seem tiny and out of place; an oddity in this incredible, regal set of rooms. Because it wasn’t just one room. It was three.
A lounge, bedroom and the most stunning bathroom she’d ever encountered. The bath was...well, it was almost insulting to call it a bath. It was big enough to fit at least five people in it, and at a push she could probably have managed a half-decent ‘lap’ if she’d used breaststroke.
And if this was the only taste of a life she might have known then she was going to take it. Before she said goodbye for the last time.
* * *
An hour later, her skin both slightly pink and shimmery with the incredible rose-scented oil she had allowed herself to use from the bath she just hadn’t been able to resist, despite her shower only hours before on the plane, she stood wrapped in a towel, in front of a wardrobe that had literally stolen her sense of self.
These clothes were for her? There were so many. Did Danyl always keep a stack of clothes for women at the palace? Were there more rooms scattered around this wing, perhaps each room assigned by dress size?
She pressed her eyes closed against the sudden and unwelcome threat of tears. She knew she was good at putting a brave face on things, but, really. What was she doing here other than just torturing herself?
A knock on the door cut her free. It must be Danyl. She’d just tell him that she couldn’t go through with it. That she would give him back his money, that she was sorry... She’d tell him anything at that point just to make it all go away.
She opened the door and it took her a moment to recognise the two beautiful and immaculately dressed women standing on the threshold of her rooms.
