“Any specific instructions for when the vultures start shouting questions?” I ask, adjusting Fiona’s blanket where she sleeps in her pram.
Victoria consults her notes. “The official line is that Captain Rangi is assisting you in your capacity as uncle and as part of the deeper cultural integration of the royal family with tribal customs. Fiona will receive a traditional blessing today.”
Rangi shoots me a look. “She will?”
“She is now,” I murmur back.
Victoria continues, “Her Majesty suggests natural interaction, dignified but warm. And she specifically said, ‘Tell Leo to stop looking like he’s marching to his execution. It’s a garden stroll, not a firing squad.’”
I roll my eyes. “Helpful as always.”
“She also said,” Victoria adds, her lips twitching slightly, “that if anyone asks direct questions about your... friendship, you’re to neither confirm nor deny, but simply comment on the importance of cultural exchange. Charlotte’s been briefed to deal with the relationship questions.”
“Cultural exchange,” Rangi repeats with dry amusement. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Victoria’s professional demeanour cracks just enough to reveal a quick smile before she returns to business. “The royal photographer will be documenting for the official archive. You have approximately fifteen minutes in the garden before proceeding to the terrace for the announcement.”
“Understood.”
Victoria clears her throat. “And Rangi, your brother is here. Tahma will be joining you later. Unfortunately, he’s been delayed.” There’s a flush to her cheeks.
Rangi nods. “Anything wrong?”
Her blush deepens. “Just a small issue with his wardrobe. Nothing to worry about.”
I bend down to lift Fiona from her pram. “Ready?” I ask Rangi.
He nods, his expression shifting to one of public dignity while his eyes remain warm when they meet mine. “As I’ll ever be.”
We follow Victoria through the palace corridors, the staff we pass bowing or curtseying with practiced discretion, though I notice more than a few curious glances at Rangi. News of our relationship hasn’t been officially acknowledged within the palace, but the royal household has always had its own efficient information network. I suspect there are few who don’t know or at least suspect the nature of our connection.
As we approach the garden doors, the royal photographer, a reed-thin woman with a perpetually harried expression, falls into step beside us.
“Your Highness, Captain,” she greets, camera already raised. “If you could proceed naturally, I’ll remain unobtrusive.”
“As unobtrusive as someone constantly taking our photograph can be,” I murmur, earning a soft laugh from Rangi.
The moment we step outside, the crisp autumn air carrying the faint scent of late roses, I feel the weight of dozens of lenses turn in our direction. The press corps, stationed at a respectful distance along the garden path, immediately begin capturing the carefully staged moment.
“Showtime,” I whisper to Rangi.
We begin our stroll, moving unhurriedly along the gravel path between meticulously tended flower beds. I’m acutely aware of how we must appear—the prince with his niece, the captain with the heir, both of us seeming so natural in these roles that were thrust upon us.
Eleanor darts here and there, pointing out flowers and stones that spark her interest. Rangi is patient with her, laughing and teasing her with a familiar ease that’s come from living in the palace for the last few weeks.
I grin as she stops us yet again, Rangi crouching to watch the lady beetle she’s discovered. It warms my heart that he’s slotted so easily into our family.
“Your Highness!” calls one of the reporters. “How is Princess Fiona adapting to palace life?”
I pause, turning with a practiced smile. “Admirably. She’s already mastered the art of commanding attention at three in the morning.”
A ripple of polite laughter follows, cameras clicking furiously.
“Captain Rangi,” another voice calls out. “Is this your first time assisting with royal children?”
Rangi answers with perfect diplomatic poise, his deep voice carrying easily. “It is. I’m honoured to participate in the traditional welcoming ceremonies for the young princess.”
“What specific traditions are being observed today?” calls a cultural correspondent I recognize from the national broadcaster.
