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“Hello, Jane.”
“No, it’s Jan,” Jan corrected. “No E. I’m too plain to be even a Jane. Just Jan.”
Leo dropped his fork and held out his hand to Jan. Jan held out her oven-mitted hand to him for a shake. Leo grinned and turned her oven-mitted hand palm side up and planted a kiss on the daisy covered fabric.
“Wow,” said Jan. “That’s new.”
Wow indeed. Esme hadn’t gotten a hand kiss. She’d never had a guy do that for her. She dreamed about it enough. She supposed Leo might’ve done that to her, had she been right side up when they’d met.
“Have you visited Cordoba?” Leo asked.
“I haven’t visited anywhere,” said Jan. “I’ve just always had a knack for spices. Those little cloves, corns, and flowers can transport your taste buds around the world and back for a fraction of the price.”
Leo nodded. “The almonds are as sweet as if you plucked them straight from a tree in Majorca. The cumin is warming my mouth as though I’m laying out in the Mediterranean. And you used actual squab instead of chicken.”
“I’m surprised you can tell the difference.”
“You have a gift.”
Leo took another bite of his pie. He closed his eyes and groaned in delight. There was no music playing in the pie shop. All that could ever be heard was a chorus of happy groans from the customers. It was the music to Jan’s ears.
Jan glanced at Leo, then at Esme. Her staunchly single friend gave Esme an approving smile before moving aside to serve another customer. Esme turned her attention to her own slice. She took a bite as she thought of a topic of conversation to hold the interest of the man who sat beside her.
“So, Leo, what’s the king of Cordoba like? Is he old, and prone to madness like King Lear? Is he a bumbling idiot like Jasmine’s father in Aladdin? Or is he off with his head like the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland?”
“You have quite the imagination.”
“It’s my curse.”
“I like it.” He downed the last of his pie, closing his eyes as he slowly pulled the prongs of the fork from his mouth.
Esme was mesmerized. Oh, to be one of those four prongs.
“You’re completely wrong about modern monastic rule though,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“About the modern monarchy. Running a kingdom is very much like running a Fortune 500 company, only harder.”
“How so?”
“Back in ancient and medieval times, kings were considered God’s representative on earth. They owned land and often the people on that land. Over time, their power became limited by feudal nobles because they couldn’t manage the vast amounts of land and resources on their own. Later, they came to rely on the church for assistance. Though most often than not, they were strong-armed by the papacy. Kings took an oath to keep the peace, administer justice, uphold the laws, and protect the poor who resided on their land. Democracy grew as people became autonomous, but the influence of the king remained strong in many lands.”
That was a delightful history lesson. But she failed to see the point. “So what does the king actually do?”
“In this age, the kings and queens of nations delegate their power so that the police keep the peace, the courts dispense with justice, and the governments deal with lawmaking. And in some monarchies, they’re simply figureheads.”
“In Cordoba?”
“In Cordoba, I’d like to believe that the king leads. But he doesn’t do it on his own. There is a parliament.”
“Like in England? So the king does more than just takes photos and comes out on holidays?”
“Yes, but he also brokers business deals for the country’s industries. He makes deals with their resources. He’s very much in charge of the economy, even with the law makers at the helm. Cordoba has a long history with the king playing an active role. That continues today.”
“He sounds like a great man,” said Esme. “Not quite the stuff of fairytales.”
“The nobility of reality has never mirrored what is in the storybooks. Those of royal blood typically marry others of royal blood. You only ever hear about the exceptions like the Windsors, and they’re often in the tabloids, not the storybooks.”
