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“P-Pas-Pašrévaka?” I sounded it out carefully before looking back at them to see if I had gotten it. Wolfgang nodded, Gelula cringed a bit but also nodded, while Thelma shook her head outright. Good to see they had a full range of opinions. “Okay, so I butchered it, but I think it means food after dinner?”
“It is the conversation held after dinner in the family room. The queen insists on it. I do not believe there is an equivalent term in English, so I left it as is,” Mr. Ambrose stated and stepped aside for me. “Now, let us begin our tour.”
My feet were killing me.
My head hurt.
And on top of that, I still had one urgent call to make. And out of everything else, that call was more important.
“Mr. Ambrose, thank you for this list, and I will do it, but I need time to speak with my mother. I am sure she has at least found out through the news, which is horrible already. If I do not call her soon, she might fly here and storm the palace gates.” I was joking, but the absolute revulsion at the mere thought of it was all over his face.
He looked at me in horror. “Very well, the tour may start at your rooms. There, you may speak to your mother.” He looked back at the three staff. “Ms. DeBree, she will need a private phone and secure line into the palace. I have already requested one. However, it was unable to be prepared this morning.”
“I will go see if it has been prepared now,” Thelma stated, then she looked at me and said, “Excuse me, miss. I will return shortly,” before turning and walking out the door.
“Ms. Mikkelsen will escort you to your rooms while Wolfgang and I wait here for your return. Please do make haste,” he stated, and when he did, Gelula stepped forward.
“This way, miss.” She stepped to the side, allowing me to walk slightly in front of her.
I nodded, not wanting to ask any questions out of fear that Mr. Ambrose would only grow even more annoyed with me.
When I moved to open the door, she whispered quickly, “Miss, you do not open doors.”
I glanced over my shoulder at her as if she were crazy. “What do you mean, I do not open doors? How do they open? Do I clap or something?”
I thought it was amusing, but my joke went over her head. She stepped forward and knocked on the double doors, and then they opened.
“Knocking makes more sense,” I muttered, not wanting to look over my shoulder because I could feel the two sets of eyes that were on me.
I thought I could relax when I was no longer under Mr. Ambrose’s watchful hawk eyes, but there were people in the hallway, maids cleaning, butlers walking up and down the stairs as well as door attendants. When they saw me, they all stopped what they were doing and looked at me as if they were waiting for some direction.
“Am I supposed to say something?” I whispered to Gelula.
“No,” she answered like nothing was odd.
“Then why did they all stop and look at me.”
“Miss,” she said gently with a kind smile, “you are a pending member of the royal family. They cannot bow to you yet. However, they must acknowledge your presence.”
“And what do I in return?”
“Whatever you wish,” she replied, and that did not help me. She seemed to get that, so she added. “The queen often just nods once to the whole room. Some mornings she says hello. That is it. We must keep walking, miss. Mr. Ambrose likes to keep to the schedule.”
“So that isn’t everyone? It is just him who holds to a schedule like that?” I asked, nodding and smiling at the people I made eye contact with on our way up the stairs.
“Everyone keeps to a schedule, miss. It is important here. If not, Mr. Ambrose will give them an earful,” she said.
“Does Mr. Ambrose run everything here?” From what I could tell, there was a lot of faith and trust in him.
“Yes and no.” She tilted her head, thinking. “It is hard to explain, but the Head Secretary of Palace Affairs does not really run the palace. Each department has a head followed by the overall head of the subsection. And Mr. Ambrose meets with them.”
I was lost. “There is a head and then another head, I am sorry—”
“Miss, never say ‘I am sorry.’ Royals do not say it unless the matter is very grave. If you mean you are lost, you say, ‘You must forgive me,’ or ‘I beg your pardon,’” she said as we went down a red-carpeted hallway.
And I stopped. “What do you mean? What is the difference between I am sorry, and you must forgive me?”
She paused to think. “Well, simply put, it is not a request. ‘I am sorry’ means the person may not forgive you. You give them the authority to say whether or not what you did was forgivable. That means they are free to judge. Forgive me is closer to what you meant, so not understanding and wishing them to repeat. ‘You must forgive me’ is more formal and can be used as either sarcasm or when the monarch believes they have done something and wishes to apologize. But it is not so major it warrants any serious action. Am I clear? Your tutors may be able to explain better than me.”
