Kuni did not want her day saved.Shewould do the saving of days, thank you very much. The entire point of this mission was to prove how capable she was on her own without help, especially from a man. An Englishman!
But here she was, safely hidden, thanks to Mr. Wynchester. After barely escaping her brothers for the sixth time.
Perhaps Kuni wasn’t as competent as she believed.
No.She would not lose her confidence now. Despite her brothers’ skill at tracking enemy soldiers and anticipating battle stratagems, they had not managed to capture her. When else had the two best Royal Guards failed to apprehend their prey? She could do this. Shewoulddo this.
She had come so far. Bravedwater, despite the sea having stolen her mother years before.
For a woman whose feet had always been planted firmly on solid earth, climbing aboard a boat had been terrifying. Not the stowing part—Kuni and her brothers had played at hiding from each other since they were small. The royal ship had so many empty chambers it had been absolutely nothing to sneak aboard with a trunk and a lady’s maid.
But the water! There wasso much of it. Moments when the only things visible from Kuni’s window were endless sea and endless sky. Like her mother, Kuni could not swim. Entrusting her life to a fancy wooden bucket had caused all those old memories to flood back in a rush. She had been relieved to escape her clandestine cabin.
The Balcovian ship would remain docked here for thirty more days. When it set sail, Kuni had to be on it, regardless of her terror of the open seas.
Methodically, Kuni took inventory of the secret room, starting with the wardrobe. Walking dresses, riding habits, evening gowns, overcoats for every weather. She peered under the bed to look for any more surprises, and only found a clean ceramic chamber pot.
She crossed to the sideboard and sniffed the package the proprietress had given her. The paper opened to reveal a large hunk of bread, a smaller hunk of cheese, half a browning pear, and several slices of cold meat. Not exactly a meal fit for a princess, but those days would soon be gone.
In Balcovia, the color of Kuni’s skin was less of a hindrance than her sex. Like England, Balcovia had been home to Black people for centuries. But unlike England, Balcovia had shunned slavery and been appalled at other countries’ attempts to colonize the world. Abolition efforts had been one of the main reasons Balcovia had seceded from the Netherlands over a century ago.
Black people had rejoiced at becoming citizens of an abolitionist nation. The king’s family had felt betrayed—as did the rich aristocrats who prospered from slaves toiling in the Dutch colonies. There had been several attempts on the king’s life. One almost succeeded.
Almost.Kuni’s great-great-grandfather Willem had thwarted the attempt, earning a bullet to the shoulder for his trouble. The abolitionist king offered Willem a position as a Royal Guard that very day. An enduring partnership that grew stronger with each new generation.
Hermalefamily members, that was.
Kuni turned her investigation to the dressing table with its many pots and decorative boxes. More cosmetics than she had ever seen—most of which would not work on dark brown skin—and boxes stuffed with varying shades of hair in the mutton-shape of English whiskers.
She could walk out of this room a man, if she wished. But Kuni wanted a uniform, not a disguise. Hers was a lifelong calling, not a lark.
Kuni slipped a hand into her spencer and unpinned the military insignia she kept just above her heart. She ran her fingers over the narrow, ten-centimeter-long strap, touching the familiar thickly embossed crown above a chevron and the soft golden fringe beneath. The distinctive shoulder epaulet was the official symbol of the Balcovian Royal Guard.
This insignia had belonged to her father. He’d removed the epaulet from his uniform himself and placed it in Kuni’s hand, curling her fingers about it. He’d expected to retrieve it when the war ended, but in the meantime had not wished his daughter to doubt for a moment that she was important and loved. Before he left for Waterloo, he’d told her he was proud of her, and had no doubt she would wear the insignia, too, one day, as their ancestors had done for generations.
Kuni wasn’t chasing a dream just for herself. She was fulfilling a promise to her father, too.
She replaced the insignia next to her heart and rose from her chair. Birds sounded outside the open window. She turned to investigate the cause of the commotion—in time to see a lithe male form in a dapper blue coat drop through the attic window and land lightly on his feet to make a grand bow.
Mr. Wynchester had returned.
6
Graham beamed at the princess.
She glowered back at him.
He swept an extravagant bow. “Mr. Graham Wynchester at your service, Miss de Heusch.”
At least, hehopedshe was a “Miss” and not a “Mrs.”
Her black eyes stared at him. “Did you vault into a locked room through the ceiling, you great ruffled tulip?”
“Er…yes. I thought that was clear. You appeared to be watching whilst the event was unfolding.”
How he adored her lovely accent! The “Vs” almost soft enough to be an “F.” The hard “th,” not even attempted, replaced by a “D” instead. She sounded just like his father, except evenmoreso. Bean had spent two decades in England and eventually lost most of his old accent. Graham had not expected to ever hear so musical a voice again.
“You cannot just materialize wherever you take a notion,” she protested.
