“Tomorrow is Saturday,” I continue. “Half the staff have the day off. The other half has Sunday off. Not a whole lot gets done here on weekends as I’m sure you know.”
She shifts her weight. “Right.”
“It’ll be nice for all of us to get out of the palace,” Bellamy states. “I know the children are looking forward to it. The girls will drag Rowan on all the rides I can’t go on, so it’ll be us and Zayer, except he’s fast and I’m slow these days.” She pats her large belly. “I could really use the extra set of hands. What do you say?”
The fact that she’s even asking instead of demanding shows just how new she is to all of this and how different herupbringing was. Americans don’t have royalty. They don’t have centuries-old ingrained stations of wealth and aristocracy.
Sebastian would have demanded, and I likely would have too.
Regardless, Marcella can’t say no, and she knows it. She curtsies because that’s what she does. “Your Majesty. I’m honored you thought of me for this.”
“It was Rowan.”
I sigh. Seriously, I’m going to have my brother punish her later.
“Regardless of whose idea it was,” I cut in, “now that we know how long Emily is to be out, I think it’s good for us all to get to know you better.”
“I appreciate that. Truly. But I’m not sure how much more there is to know other than what you already do.”
“Oh, I doubt that. I’m sure there’s plenty about you we don’t know.”
Our eyes lock in a silent duel, and a dangerous electricity hums between us. I’m being an asshole. I know I am. That doesn’t mean I know how to stop either. I no longer trust myself or trust my instincts the way I used to. Or maybe I never thought about it before Ella played me.
My anger at the hand my family has been dealt, the fear at not knowing what’s coming next, and the frustration at not being able to fix it are making me resentful. Marcella Russo is an unknown entity, and when you don’t know who your enemies are or the full extent of their reach, being cautious is the only option.
But I’d be lying if I said part of the allure is how she reacts and fights back.
“Unless,” I continue softly, “you’re uncomfortable with the idea of spending time with us beyond your professional duties.”
Yep, Marcella really doesn’t like me.
She gives me a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. “Not at all, Your Highness. I’m simply surprised by the invitation.”
“Is that a yes?” Bellamy asks with hope in her voice, her hands folding up in supplication.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent!” Bellamy exclaims. “But please, you have to call me Bellamy, especially when we’re out tomorrow. I understand you feel more comfortable being formal here, especially given your new duties, but tomorrow will be more casual and relaxed. We’ll have royal attendants dressed in civilian clothes close by at all times, so you should dress casually too.”
“Understood, Madam. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great! Same here. We’ll leave sometime after breakfast.”
Marcella curtsies and excuses herself, leaving the playroom.
Tomorrow’s going to be hell.
15
MARCELLA
Truthfully, this isn’t quite what I expected when the queen mentioned a summer festival. I’ve never been to Tourin, and I’ve never been to a festival, but I expected something more along the lines of period costumes and people dancing to folk music or something.
This is not that.
This is sensory overload with flashing lights, the roar of fast rides, the screams of excited children, and the pervasive pinging of games. There are dozens of rides ranging from roller coasters to things that go up and down and side to side. Food trucks and vendors divide the games area from the rides, the air thick with the scent of fried food and sweets. It’s hot today in Tourin, nearing thirty degrees Celsius, but the children don’t seem to care a whit.
The queen, on the other hand, is already feeling it, and I give her a lot of credit for coming here and smiling a happy, excited smile, which I don’t even think is put on, for the children who adoringly call her Mommy. I didn’t expect that, and it seems to be a common thread for my time in the palace.
