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Chapter 7
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It was 1:53 p.m.
Since I arrived, I had been taken from one ornate room or garden or hallway to another room or garden or hallway, smiling for the camera as I went. Everything was going exactly as Mr. Ambrose had scheduled for me. It was like I was in some sort of machine, everyone and everything automatically adjusting then readjusting as I either entered or left. I wasn’t sure what it was like to take engagement photos, but I doubt other people had three maids—one for accessories, one for the dress, and the other to fix their hair. I don’t think the woman knew what to do with mine, so she just fluffed it a bit. All I had to do was point to what I wanted to wear. There was no one to ask their opinions, and no one offered any. If I had asked them to cover me in all the jewels there, they would have done it without a word. However, we were now finished without any issues. It was time for lunch with the queen, and I felt like that might be more of a battle.
“Do not worry.” Gale smiled, letting go of my hand. “My mother is harmless. You two will get along fine.”
“Are you leaving?”
“For a bit. I do not want to, but my keepers will not let me off any longer.” He nodded his head over to Iskandar and a short man checking his watch restlessly while waiting. “I will meet you when I finish. Don’t stress. Everything will be okay.”
I nodded. We broke away from each other, and Gale looked at Mr. Ambrose. “Take care of her, Ambrose.”
“Of course, sir.”
He gave me another glance before moving away. Iskandar and the short man stepped aside for him to go; however, he paused and turned back, his gaze returning to Mr. Ambrose.
“She is to get a staff immediately,” Gale said.
“Yes, I have people waiting.”
“Assign Wolfgang as her secretary.”
“Princess Eliza—”
“She will not mind, and if she does, I will speak to her.”
It was odd seeing him like this; I was used to seeing him as just—him. However, the way he stood, the way he spoke, the command in his voice. There was none of his usual humor or playfulness. He did not question, he ordered, and everyone hovered around him, waiting to follow his commands.
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Ambrose replied, nodding.
And as Gale walked away, I watched those who were not walking with him stand at attention at the other end of the red-carpeted hallway, bowing their heads as he walked past. Once again, it hit me. This wasn’t some fairy tale. This wasn’t just for show. This was serious. For these people, for this country, he was almost almighty. He was their future king.
“This way, Miss Wyntor.” Mr. Ambrose directed me toward the double white doors, which were engraved from top to bottom. Outside were two guards, but they were different from Iskandar. They wore gray, soldier-like uniforms instead of the black suit he did. As we approached, they opened the doors, and I stepped into another wondrous and luxurious room under the watchful gaze of old portraits.
“The queen will arrive shortly. You may wait,” Mr. Ambrose said as I took in the new surroundings. The walls were colored white, but the trimmings were all gold. A single large decorative rug covered the whole room. There were five chandeliers because, why not. One was over a drawing table by the window, another by the piano at a different window, one above each entrance on both sides of the room, and the largest hung in the center. The furniture was a deep brown and stitched, and as I walked farther, I smelled lavender, but I noticed it was coming from the fireplace even though there was no fire.
Above the fire was a large portrait of a man and woman—no, the king and queen. However, it wasn’t Gale’s mother. The woman’s hair in the image was black, not red. And though the king looked similar to Gale’s father, it wasn’t him, either.
“Who are these people?” I asked.
“Those monarchs are King Cornelius IV and his wife, Queen Consort Arabella. They are the predecessors to His Majesty King Lionel III and Queen Consort Elspeth,” Ambrose answered, and I glanced back to see him standing with his head high and chest out. The tone in his voice rang out with pride...and slight annoyance. Was I supposed to know that?
“So, Gale’s grandparents?”
His lips twitched in obvious displeasure. “Royals may use nicknames among each other. However, when addressing anyone else, staff or the public, they must be called by their title and then their first Christian name. Therefore, he is Prince Galahad whenever you are speaking to anyone, not of the House of Monterey.”
“Okay then, so these are Prince Galahad grandparents.”
“Yes, they are,” he answered promptly. “Now, when the queen enters, you must stand. However, you do not need to curtsy again, as you have curtsied once for the day. This, of course, is unless you are at a formal function or dinner with the queen. This is the protocol you will need to remember at all times. All. Times.”
“So tomorrow, I will have to curtsy to her again?” I asked, sitting on the couch, really wishing I had chosen more comfortable shoes.
“Yes.” However, Ambrose was not the one who answered. The queen entered, so I stood right back up. She had changed into a dark-colored, long-pleated skirt and a simple blouse with pearls. The same older woman who I had seen with her this morning was still beside her now.
“How has everything gone so far?” she questioned, coming around the couch, tucking her skirt under before she sat down. “Please, sit.”
