“What’s your idea of a unified front?” Frederic asks.
“We’re going to send you away together. Rather like a royal procession, but for the Twentieth century. You’ll visit some towns, meet some locals, perhaps kiss a few babies. That kind of thing,” the King says.
“And maybe even hold hands in public,” the Queen adds and Frederic’s eyes widen, as though the idea of holding hands with me is completely outrageous.
“Astrid and I barely know one another. Of course we're going to look uncomfortable in a photo. It's not like we've been engaged for very long,” Frederic says.
“It's just a shame that it was caught on camera,” Queen Eleonora replies.
“Well,” I begin, and every head in the room swivels toward me. “There were some better photos.”
“How do you know, Astrid?” the King asks.
I turn to Frederic, but I can't read his expression now. I plough on. “The thing is, at first we were a little hesitant, because of course we hadn't done it before. And then… well, we did.” My cheeks begin to warm at the memory.
“Did what?” the Queen asks.
“Kiss,” I reply simply.
Queen Eleonora raises her brows at me as though I’d just told her that her son and I were photographed having a sword fight. “I see.”
“Astrid, photos of members of the royal family kissing are not for public consumption,” the King sniffs.
“Quite,” the Queen agrees.
“Prince Charles and Lady Di did it on the balcony of Buckingham Palace,” I counter.
“Ah, yes, but they were married,” the Queen points out, lifting her chin. “Quite different.”
“What’s done is done as far as the photos go. Where we can make a real difference now is in the two of you embarking on this tour,” the King says, drawing a line under the topic.
“You want Astrid and me to travel the country, showingeveryone that we're in love? Like a traveling romance show?” Frederic asks.
“I think you should think of it as a diplomatic mission within your own country,” King Leonardo replies.
“Semantics. How long would we need to travel?” Frederic asks.
“A couple of weeks ought to do it,” the King says.
“Yes, two weeks. You can visit a coastal town or two before you head north,” the Queen adds. “There’s a festival in one of those picturesque villages in the mountains, which would be rather fun. We think it's the perfect plan.”
“I think it's a good idea,” I say.As long as Frederic refrains from doing his impersonation ofMan Terrified of Womanhe does so well.
Frederic doesn’t look at me. “What about all the things we're meant to be doing here? There’s the wedding planning and?—”
His father cuts him off. “You have all those binders.” His lips twitch and a muscle leaps in Frederic’s jaw.
“What your father means is we'll take care of everything, darling. Don't you worry,” the Queen says in a conciliatory tone. “And Astrid, all you need to do is smile and be yourself. The country already thinks you're rather marvelous, from what they’re saying in the papers.”
“Oh, so it's still all my fault?” Frederic snaps.
“Fred, don't be like that,” I say.
He pulls his lips into a line. “I suppose if it's necessary, then yes, I’ll do it.” He’s making it sound as though our engagement is some sort of terrible ordeal he must endure.
So much for him feeling anything even vaguely akin to a spark.
“That’s settled then," the King says, rising to his feet,signalling that the meeting is now over. “You leave tomorrow. Tommaso can put together the itinerary.”
