Arabella, Kate’s younger sister, was married to Sir William, with one child, Princess Rachel.Arabella was lively and outspoken—or so Scottie had observed—and the classic younger sibling of a ruling monarch.She marched in line with the Family yet was eager to make her own mark.
Kate went on.“Edric had never missed a fishing trip with his mates until I was diagnosed, and I refuse to let him miss another one.John is tending to my duties, as well as his own, and his family.The same with Gus and Daffy.I won’t be seen as the poorly queen who demands everyone stop living to hold my hand.”She motioned to her plate.“Though I can barely feed myself.This was not how I envisioned our visit.I was feeling so strong when you called.As if the disease was faded.”She held up one weak fist.“I was winning.Until—”
“Kate, we’re together.Isn’t that the point?”Scottie took a bite of the chicken pie then raised her mother’s spoon to give one to her.“I’ll be here for you.”
Kate glanced down at her trembling fingers, folding her napkin over and over.“Well, then… So, how was your father when you left?”She’d asked the same question when Scottie first arrived.“He had to be a bit miffed by it all.”
Scottie lowered the spoon.“Can we put the past behind us and go forward from here?You don’t have to apologize to me or Dad or anyone.You did what you had to do, and let’s face it, hardly anyone in the world has been challenged with such a decision.You didn’t want to abandon me and Dad, but you weren’t the ordinary girl next door.You’re forgiven.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.“You’ve never said it so plainly before.”
“I was being stubborn, not wanting to meet you after I knew the truth,” Scottie said.“My life was set.I didn’t need a mother.Especially one who’d walked away from me.Never mind learning you’re a queen living four thousand miles away.”
“We’re living a unique experience, aren’t we?You’re the only woman whose mother left her to be raised by her father because she was a crown princess.”
“You think they’ll make a movie about us?”Scottie reached for her wine and took a small sip.
“Of course they will.”Kate, with a burst of exaggerated energy.“Who do you want to play you?”
“Oh gosh, I don’t know.Who do you want to play you?”
“Dame Silver Leckwin.She’s a marvelous and loyal Lauchten.One of our stars.”
“Maybe Chloe Daschle could play me,” Scottie said.“I loved her in the Revolutionary War filmBound by Love.”
“Edric and I enjoyed that film.”Kate leaned toward her daughter.“You’re good for us, Scottie.Good for me.I feel the medicine of your presence already.You’ll be a smash at the Garden Party—cheered far more than booed.”
Scottie set her wine aside.“Who’s going to boo me?The press?”
“Perhaps, but so far, they seem favorable to you.I was thinking more of the political faction—the Renaissance Coalition—intent on dismantling the monarchy altogether.MP Hamish Fickle has been vocal lately.He and his supporters see us as relics of another age, a burden to the people.They overlook, of course, how tirelessly we serve and how deeply we care for our nation and citizens.But the RECO party doesn’t speak for everyone.They’re a noisy few, led by a man who enjoys the sound of his own voice.I shouldn’t have mentioned it, love.”
“It’s okay, but—why do they want to boo me again?”Scottiewasused to criticism, which ran rampant in the fashion world.But booing a daughter simply wanting to know her family felt petty.
“Because they’re small-minded,” Kate said, her tone calm but growing weary.“And envious.Mostly because you’re my daughter—and American.Some feel we’ve enough of those in the palace already.”
“I’ve no intention of living in the palace.I’m here for you, Kate.”After the Rose Ball, she’d return home in time for the O’Shay board meeting and approval of the winter line.“I’ll be gone before the RECO crowd have time to pucker up and boo.”
“Quite right, my dear,” Kate said, her smile faint.“You’ve far more important places to be.Just promise you’ll always come back.”She started to reach for Scottie, but her arm dropped to the table.Slowly she slipped from her chair to the floor, the color draining from her face.
“Kate—hey, Kate, what’s wrong?Kate!”Scottie caught her before her head struck the floor, cradling her trembling body against her legs.“Cranston!Hilda!Miles—help!”
* * *
Michael
Everything was too quiet, save for the North Sea wind carving at the castle’s ancient stone.Lately he’d begun to hate the quiet.It left far too much room for thinking.
Technically, he was off duty.Lennox and Schueler—both former members of Her Majesty’s Special Forces and now part of her security detail—manned the castle’s Operations Room.He had the evening free.In four days, his schedule would be packed with the Lady Royal’s diary and helping her navigate the royal world.
He took a sip of port and moved to the window.He preferred a pint from the pub down by the quay—the Belly of the Beast—to sweet, fortified wine, but Cranston had brought the port round, so he felt obliged to try it.
From the entryway clock of his flat on the third floor of the castle, a bell chimed.Michael checked his watch as if to verify: nine o’clock.By the lingering light and the short shadows of a north Lauchtenland evening, the days were lengthening.The castle grounds were starting to bloom with their famous purple flora, which meant the Garden Party should be stunning.A recent email put the expected attendance at three thousand.
He’d scheduled a review of castle security protocols with the team for tomorrow.But for now…
Michael loosened his tie and slipped off his jacket.He’d packed very little from his Port Fressa flat for his duration in Dalholm: five white shirts, four pairs of black slacks, two jackets, two ties, two pairs of jeans, and three pairs of shoes.He preferred tactical gear to suits, but escorting the queen’s daughter called for more formal attire.Along with clothes and toiletries, he’d brought a couple of books, though he didn’t feel like reading.He could change into workout togs and head up to the fourth-floor gym, but—
Sudden movement across the grounds and through the gathering shadows caught his eye.He darted to the next window, squinting through the fading light, barely making out heels and elbows as a runner disappeared into the north woods.
