"That's either sweet or manipulative.I haven't decided which."
"I'll let you know when you figure it out."
The car wound through narrow streets lined with whitewashed buildings and overflowing flower boxes.Local residents stopped to watch our convoy pass, some waving, others just staring with open curiosity.I was going to have to get used to being stared at.
"One more thing," Archie said as we began climbing toward what I assumed was the palace."Before we get there."
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens with my mother, whatever she says or implies or judges silently with her eyebrows, don't let her intimidate you.She respects people who stand their ground."
"And if I can't stand my ground?If I crumble under the pressure of European royal disapproval?"
"You won't.You faced down Madame Delacroix's croissant training without breaking.Queen Isabelle will be a breeze by comparison."
"You clearly haven't seen me with royalty."
"I've been watching you with royalty for days.You held your own at our wedding reception while furious with me, which is no small feat.You'll be fine."
The compliment caught me off guard.It was the kind of thing Peter would have said, genuine and supportive, and for a moment I forgot that Peter and Archie were the same person wearing different masks.
Then I remembered, and the pleased sensation shifted into something more complicated.
The palace came into view, and I forgot to be conflicted because my brain was too busy short-circuiting.
It wasn't just a palace.It was a palace that looked like it had been designed by someone who'd seen a fairy tale illustration and said "Yes, but bigger and with more towers."White stone walls gleamed in the afternoon sun.Blue-domed roofs dotted the skyline like something out of a travel magazine.Gardens cascaded down the hillside in terraces of green and color.
"That's where you live?"My voice came out slightly strangled.
"That's where we live.For the next six months, at least."
"It has actual turrets."
"Three of them.The north tower has the best view of the harbor."
"I'm going to live in a place with turrets.I went from a studio apartment above a laundromat to turrets."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"I genuinely don't know."
The car passed through an ornate gate and pulled into a courtyard that was roughly the size of my entire neighborhood back home.Staff had assembled in a formal receiving line, all of them wearing expressions of polite welcome that probably concealed wild curiosity about the American barista who'd married their prince.
"Ready?"Archie asked.
"No."
"Good.Honesty.I appreciate that."
"Don't get used to it.I'm planning to lie about how much I'm enjoying myself for the entire six months."
"As long as you're not lying to yourself."
I shot him a look, but there wasn't any malice in his expression.Just something that looked almost like concern.
A footman opened the car door, and Archie stepped out first, then turned to offer me his hand.I took it because refusing would have looked petty in front of all these people, and also because I wasn't entirely sure my legs would work without assistance.
His grip was warm and steady, and when I emerged from the car, he didn't immediately let go.Instead, he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow, a gesture that probably looked romantic to the assembled staff but was actually just keeping me upright.
