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Isha. So similar to Issa. I can’t in good conscience leave families who need me so badly to attend to a princess in Solvaria for an issue that any intern can solve.
“I hope she’s okay. But I don’t think I can arrange the transportation…”
“I’ve sent a plane already. It should be there in a half hour.”
“But, Dad, I have work…”
“You can go right back to work in a day or two, but it’s important for family to be together right now.”
I see Issa and his mother’s faces again, and I think of the unique comfort that only they could provide to each other. And I admit I’m curious about this new relative. My father has been strong-arming us all into settling down since he had his stroke last year, so things can change in a matter of weeks.
Still, this comes as a surprise. Ishmael? Really? A kid? Who’s the mother?
“Persuasive as always.” I hesitate before saying the words that I wish weren’t true. “I’ll be there tonight.”
“And come to the palace before you go to the hospital. There are a few things I want to discuss.”
Of course, there are. “Yes, Father. I’ll see you shortly.”
After a half-hour trip to the airfield, a two-hour flight to Solvaria, and a fifteen-minute drive from King Francis Airport, I feel my stomach churn as the guards welcome me into the vast palace.
I go up the grand marble staircase to my father’s quarters, expecting a delighted smile and open arms. Instead, he’s pacing and wearing a scowl.
Coming back makes me remember why I prefer Haiti and Ukraine to the cushy bubble of my childhood. Despite having everything, my father is never pleased.
“Hello, Father. How is the patient?”
“Hmm? Oh, I think she’s doing well. She’s at Ishmael’s estate.” He marches over to give me a perfunctory hug with a gruff sigh. “Sit, sit.”
I take a chair, and he continues to pace.
“So, clearly my niece isn’t why you called, apparently. I want to hear more about her. So, what’s really on your mind, Dad?”
“Have you given any more thought to what I asked before?”
I feign a look of ignorance. I should have known.
“Before…? When are you thinking?”
“About settling down. Solidifying the royal line. Getting married for a chance at the crown.”
I slowly raise my eyebrows. “I thought the last conversation was the end of it. I said no. You know I’m not interested in the throne.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t marry. You may want to heal the world, but your duty is first and foremost to your Kingdom.”
I sigh, my temper beginning to flare. “You already have three sons who are married now, and I’m doing work that can help so many people who have nothing. You don’t know the things I’ve seen, the effects of hunger and war…”
“And I don’t need to.” He holds up his hand. “But don’t you want to continue to have the funding for your foundation? Because the funding from the Royal Trust isn’t guaranteed. Belt-tightening and all. I hear there are budget cuts this year.”
Judging by the gilded fixtures and his immaculate suits, I don’t think he’s short of cash.
“You wouldn’t really stop funding this work, would you?” I cross my arms, hoping he’s joking.
He shrugs. “It’s a possibility. I was thinking of perhaps cutting it in half to support one of your new sisters-in-law… sister in laws… Anyway, their charitable interests. But if you were to get married…”
He pauses for dramatic effect, loving it.
“Maybe it could double, given that it would have two royals administering it.”
