Tommaso nods. “Absolutely, Your Majesty.”
“I'm not sure I have enough formal wear for being seen in public for two solid weeks,” I say.
“Don't worry. We’ll have a selection of outfits brought to the palace for you, darling girl,” the Queen says, and it strikes me this is the first time she’s used a term of affection with me. I like it. “You’ll need to make do with off the rack this time.”
“Off the rack is fine by me.”
The rest of the day is a whirlwind. I try on endless clothes and shoes, accessorize, and get bossed around by the wardrobe team. By the end of it, I look like a much more polished, put-together version of myself, and I can’t help admiring the transformation, even if it all feels a little surreal.
We’re going away together on this romance road show. Two solid weeks of Fred and me. By the time we return to the palace, I will know whether he’s my destiny, or whether it’s time to head home.
Chapter Ten
The Royal Traveling Romance Show
By Penelope Pemberley-Price forThe Ledonian Gazette
Fetch your binoculars and brace yourselves for I have news. Prince Frederic and Princess Astrid, our freshly engaged royal duo, have officially departed on what Palace sources are calling a “working visit.” I prefer to call it what it plainly is: a Royal Unity Tour, designed to show a united front, a shared itinerary, and perhaps even a flicker of genuinechemistry.
First stop is the sun-drenched coastal city of Lysoria, where the sea is blue, the light is flattering, and Princess Astrid’s signature yellow wardrobe is expected to compete directly with the Mediterranean for attention. (Early odds suggest Astrid for the win.)
While the princess continues to embody sunshine in both dressanddisposition, our Crown Prince remains about as cuddly as an income-tax audit, and nearly as spontaneous. One can only imagine how he approaches romance: color-coded, carefully scheduled, and approved in triplicate.
Still, hope springs eternal.
Will Astrid finally thaw our Ice Prince, or will he simply end up with a very expensive tan?
I shall be watching closely!
Frederic
We’ve traveledsouth to the coastal city of Lysoria, and the sun is beaming bright.Toobright, if you ask me. I’m more than a little hot in my suit and tie. I glance at Astrid by my side. Once again, she’s in a yellow dress, although this one is much more prim and proper than her usual attire. Try as I might, I’ve found it impossible not to look at her. Every time she catches me, I either avert my gaze or pretend I’m looking at something over her head.
Not exactly smooth.
We haven’t spoken all that much since yesterday’smeeting with my parents. Both of us have been busy preparing for our grand tour, or whatever you want to call this PR exercise.
Things are a little awkward between us, shall we say.
She pulls her Walkman headphones from her ears. “You’re looking at me again, Fred.” Her words may be mildly accusing, but her tone is teasing and light.
“I’m not looking at you. I am in fact looking at the scenery,” I lie. “It’s quite magnificent.” I dart my eyes slightly to the left of her, so that I am actually looking at said scenery. And for the record, itisstunning. The deep azure blue of the Mediterranean glints in the sunshine, the beach a bright gold, and the buildings are colourful and friendly in that wonderfully Lysorian way.
“Right.” She doesn’t sound convinced.
Why am I reduced to such teenage awkwardness around her? It’s inconvenient to say the least. She’s a woman just like any other, like my mother, or my sister, or Lady Letizia.
Well, nothing like Lady Letizia in that she’s not an octogenarian who doles out unrequested advice about love.
After Astrid’s slotted her headphones in place once more, flipping through a notebook, I risk another furtive glance. I commit to memory the curve of her cheek, the blue of her eyes, the length of her lashes, the shape of her lips. The way her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, the glint of the little gold hoops at her ears. The way she chews on her lip as she concentrates, her brows pulled together ever so slightly.
She really is quite beautiful. Not in an obvious, loud kind of way with heavy makeup and plunging necklines like you see so often in the media. She’s morerefined than that. Elegant yet whimsical. Put together and yet somehow also herself.
I’m beginning to see she’s so much more than just her looks. Yes, she has a distinct lack of royal protocol, and she has a tendency to talk enough to power a nation for a week. We shared that rather remarkable kiss, a kiss Astrid told my parents about for reasons only she knows. It’s seared into my memory banks, and no matter how many times I attempt to divert my attention with tour arrangements or other responsibilities, my mind persists in wandering back to it.
It might have been a fairly gentle kiss, and it might have been in a room full of people, but in that moment, it was like nothing else mattered.
It was both unsettling and really rather wonderful.
