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“Do not use a funeral to get a date with my brother-in-law,” I say.
“Is that a royal decree?” Kelly asks mockingly, sipping her champagne.
Kirsten interjects, “Oh no. She’s not queen yet. She won’t likely ever end up as queen with the way things are going. A funeral is quite a convenient excuse to end your honeymoon early, isn’t it?”
Etienne has reappeared at my side. With snacks, gods bless him. “You will address the Princess with respect.”
The twins eye him, and I know what they’re thinking. He’s the least respected of all the royal siblings, so why should they care how they behave?
“I don’t honestly care about being queen,” I say calmly, politely, with a smile. “Especially not today. I came here to honor a friend.”
The twins exchange a look.
“And furthermore,” I say, lowering my voice so only the four of us can hear it. “My affairs are not now nor were they ever any of your business.”
“Darling, your affairs are everyone’s business now that you married a prince,” Kelly says.
Maybe I’m jet-lagged. Perhaps Kelly’s use of Etienne’s pet name for me triggers me. But I’m extremely done now. And I probably shouldn’t let myself get so worked up, but I let loose anyway. “Both of you: stay away from my family and shut your…your…your heifer mouths for a change!”
Etienne grunts, stifling back a laugh.
Kirsten is so stunned by my language that she stands there with her mouth open. And I do not care.
Kelly looks at me sulkily as I turn and walk away, Etienne following close.
When he catches up with me on my way to sign the guest book, his arms loaded with tiny plates full of snacks, I shove some cheese into my mouth.
Whispers swirl around as I try to concentrate on writing a personal note in the guest book.
“…match made in hell.”
“She’s a drill sergeant. What’s she doing, marrying the Bad Prince?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s going to make him cut off contact with his entire family.”
“I heard that as soon as Torben rejected her, the king turned around and betrothed her to that one. Who could have guessed one of our royals would end up with sloppy seconds?”
I bite my lip and think about sprinting away, but Etienne rests a calming hand on my waist. My husband turns me to face him and kisses me like the prince that he is.
When several people stop whispering to gawk at us, he pulls away with my lipstick smudging his face.
“Apologies, everyone. I can’t seem to get enough of my wife.”
And although, on the surface, that kiss was for gawkers, it was full of promises meant just for me.
* * *
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask self-consciously as we wait for our ride outside of the museum.
I don’t particularly love security detail, but now would be an excellent time to have one, especially after all those claws came out at the funeral.
Etienne stares at me for a long moment, then leans down and moves my hair out of the way to speak directly into my ear. I feel the brush of his lips.
“I’m looking at my wife’s hard nipples,” he says. “I’m allowed to look, yes?”
His words vibrate through me, all the way down to the muscles that flutter when I remember the first time we had a similar conversation. When we couldn’t stand each other—orthoughtwe couldn’t stand each other.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I breathe, turning my face just a hair to meet his smoldering gaze.
