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Torben draws himself to full height. “I’ll speak with them today.”
“Better hurry,” I call after him, knowing that could have gone better.
* * *
Where in the hell did all the booze go?
Rolf has failed to refresh the beverage cart in my chambers, and now he’s telling me the bar we use for parties in the east wing is closed for renovations.
I retrace my steps to the basement, but there’s a lock on the wine cellar. Oops. Someone must not have been impressed that I swiped a $200 bottle.
As I’m about to pilfer something from my brother Sig’s chambers—betting on the notion that he’s out hunting and won’t catch me stealing his scotch—a blur of light gray and the scent of expensive perfume wafting in a doorway send me tripping over the rugs lining the hall.
“Your Highness, are you alright?” Kala stands half in and half out of a guest room, looking startled.
Am I alright? No, most definitely not.
“What are you doing in the family wing?”
She blinks at me, then blushes. “The king asked me to stay for a while. There are some engagements they want me to participate in.” Kala shuts a door behind her and steps fully out into the hallway to join me.
“I’ll bet he does.”
Kala tilts her head, and the tiniest worry line forms between her eyebrows. “Pardon?”
I scramble for what to say next, but just then, someone's phone pings.
“Excuse me, Your Highness,” she says, uncharacteristically fumbling with her matching designer handbag.
I thought she’d be with my parents by now… I thought I’d heard something about a photo op at the bottling plant or something equally dull. As dull as that suit she’s changed into. I wonder what has happened to that breezy yellow dress. I could see the silhouette of her legs through it when she stood by the aviary this morning, and the shape of her thighs was…not offensive to me.
I watch her blink down at her phone screen, scrolling through a long wall of text. She tilts her head again and re-reads it.
“What is it?”
“Pardon me, Your Highness,” she says. “It seems I’m not needed for the photo shoot. The king and queen have left that engagement early. Not sure what’s going on.”
Oh, I know what’s going on. My brother found them and gave them the third degree.
“Perhaps the king’s gout is acting up. He should never drink alcohol; it makes him sore and grouchy,” I offer.
Kala looks scandalized at my words, but I can see she doesn’t truly feel any impulse to defend my father in front of me.
“It makes many people do and say things they regret later, Your Highness.”
Was that a dig at me?
And yet somehow I don’t take offense. A sly smile crawls across my lips, and I’m about to find out if this perfect priss knows how to banter, when we’re interrupted.
“You! And you!”
Our gazes snap to the end of the hall, where a breathless Flora is approaching us.
“What’s up, sis?”
“Your Highness,” Kala says, startled into a small curtsy.
“Good, you’re both here. Let’s go,” Flora chirps, hooking one arm under mine and the other under Kala’s. She escorts us swiftly down the hall, past centuries-old tapestries, to the grand staircase.
