Page 16 of Falling for the King

By sheer force of will she blocked out the memory and drew her full attention to the conversation around her which now included another three women. All were completing a university degree online using the purpose-built study room housed in the regional community centre to do so. When she’d seen the statistics on female university participation, she’d known it was something she wanted to change. Despite a stomach full of butterflies, trembling knees and a voice betraying her nervousness, she’d pitched the program to the king five years ago. A year later it had commenced with her at its head. Half thrilled and fully petrified she’d given it her all including becoming a student herself, studying online like everyone else.

‘This is such an unexpected honour to have you and the king visit our small centre, it means more than you can imagine,’ said the local program co-ordinator.

As soon as Katerina knew she was joining the tour, she’d gone through the schedule. When she’d realised that some program study hubs were close to confirmed engagements, she’d looked at how she could incorporate them into what was already a jam-packed itinerary. The king, no slouch, had an exhausting tour of long days and nights which included a vast array of causes and already featured visits to two larger centres. But she wanted to visit as many as she could, especially the smaller ones. What she hadn’t expected was that the king would join her. Would insist on joining her as soon as he heard her plans.

‘It’s been our pleasure to visit.’ She tried not to stumble over the word our, it felt too intimate to be speaking about herself and the king that way.

‘I’m glad you didn’t turn up a day early, yesterday we were a hive of activity getting everything organised.’

‘I hope we didn’t cause any stress by not giving you more notice.’

‘No, no, not at all. The last week has been a flurry of joyous activity. When we got the notification of your visit we cried with pleasure.’ She reached out and touched Katerina’s hand. ‘Then we started a mad clean up.’

Katerina laughed, Xavier turned towards her and she swiftly looked around the room.

‘It’s a wonderful space, you’ve done a great job,’ she replied noting the bright colours, natural light, comfortable lounge chairs and reading lamps all in the small but spotlessly clean room. Separated by a corridor to the main centre, its creche, a critical component of the program, was housed in the adjacent room.

‘Thank you, we hope you like your photo on the wall, we put it up as soon as we opened the room in honour of you, our founder and patron.’

She followed the waving hand to a spot behind her and tried not to flinch at what she saw.

That photo. And right in Xavier’s line of sight.

‘I looked so young.’ And sad, not to mention scared witless, which she had been. Standing stiffly wearing an outfit and jewels picked out for her she gave the impression she was playing dress up. Taken a month after her wedding she’d been trying to grapple with a husband who’d changed completely and the expectations of being a princess. Neither of which she’d been prepared for. Now, whenever she saw a photo from that first shoot, she wanted to rip it to shreds and toss it into the nearest bonfire. She wasn’t that person any longer.

As she hoped all the women laughed. It was her standard response if she was unlucky enough to come across a photo from that series. Although she didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing any of her photos or portraits displayed throughout the country, sometimes in the most unlikely of places.

‘You’re still so young.’

She didn’t feel it. It was as though she’d lived decades in the last seven years.

The conversation continued around the advantages and disadvantages of studying online and the rigours of exams and assignments. Such discussions reaffirmed her decision to commence studies. How could she understand what was required, never mind commiserate and celebrate, without being a participant herself? A decision she’d never regretted although it barely gave her time to sleep as she juggled it around her royal duties, which she refused to lessen. It did give her the convenience to listen to lectures, complete assignments anywhere, even on tour. And she loved learning. She’d met and married Max not long after finishing high school shelving all plans to study further. Now as she learned about international relations and Maynetian history, she was even more grateful that she’d pushed for this program.

Katerina caught sight of the king’s photo through a window hanging in the main section of the centre. In full dress uniform he looked incredibly imposing yet natural. The comparison to her shot couldn’t have been more obvious. But she wasn’t thinking about him, even when he caught her eye and stood saying his goodbyes.

Mirroring his actions Katerina wrapped up her conversation before the two of them headed back to the mayoral residence. She steadied her grip on the back of her chair as an unexpected wave of exhaustion hit at the thought of the coming evening. She needed to shower, change and get ready for the night’s official function when what she really wanted to do was have a long lie down. It was only the second day and she was accustomed to a hectic workload, whether or not she was touring. What she wasn’t used to was the mess of emotions that time spent with the king was evoking, and the toll of hiding it from everyone, especially him. She needed to do something about that, and fast.

***

Xavier listened to his guest and tried not to show his distraction at the occasional glimpse of silvery blonde hair piled into a high bun as Katerina moved through the crowd. Black draped fabric created a low hung ceiling and billowing walls in the large marquee. White fresh flowers covered the large central pillar and thousands of fairy lights emphasised the black and white theme of the event. To fit the scene, he’d imagined Katerina wearing a long white silken gown showing off curves that her usual style of clothing only hinted at. He hadn’t seen her in anything other than black, navy or grey in years, but since the scene at the pool he couldn’t get the idea out of his head as much as he longed to. Instead, she wore a high-necked black dress that almost reached her ankles and heels that surely would cripple.

Taller than most in attendance he kept sight of her as she shifted back and forth into view, blocked by the usual scrum that surrounded her. He couldn’t help but notice that not once in the past two hours had she come anywhere near him. A pattern established at every function since that morning by the pool ten days ago. From then on formality had been re-established between them. No conversation ventured beyond the topics of the tour or the country, absolutely nothing personal was discussed which was exactly as it should be. Except now he had a restless sense of frustration that no number of laps, or hours worked, could dispel. And at every engagement he’d found himself doing the same thing, tracking her like he was on her security detail, not the guest of honour with an endless parade of people to meet and converse with.

Standing next to him oblivious to his preoccupation, Serena Smithson was the perfect guest, would be the perfect wife. She marked everything off his checklist. She was smart, accomplished, good natured. There was no social media account filled with half-dressed photos or inappropriate posts. No past relationships or actions that would cause future embarrassment. Over the past couple of hours she’d discussed the charity being supported tonight and other causes she was involved with in an articulate and respectful manner. Her fitted black cocktail dress showed off a toned and fit body without being overt or revealing. He should be congratulating himself on choosing, out of the ten on Frederick’s list, such a worthwhile candidate first up. However, after a few hours in her company he had a headache that hammered across the back of his skull and showed no signs of abating. He could blame her chatter, her perfume. Neither would be fair, there was nothing wrong with either. Nor her tall, dark-haired look which had always been his preferred type if he cared to think about it. Which he didn’t. It would lead back to the pool and the morning when he feared he’d changed his type forever. To a petite fair-haired, blue-eyed woman who smelled like the freshest breeze on a summer day that even the chlorine-filled space had been unable to dispel. All week he’d longed for a hint of it and struggled not to inhale a deep obvious breath, like a sniffer dog, whenever he had.

He caught another speculative glance from a guest as Serena continued to stand by his side. At his invitation she’d accompanied him as he moved around the packed marquee aware that such an action singled her out. He’d purposely invited her to see how she’d handle a high-profile event, be introduced to countless people, and cope with being the centre of attention. After two hours he couldn’t fault her behaviour. Formal, yet attentive, there’d been no stammering or red face unlike Katerina who’d been awkward, unsure and so painfully out of her depth during her first royal outings.

‘Your Majesty. Is everything alright?’

Realising with a sickening jolt that his unexpected trip down memory lane must be showing across his face he focused on the present. He’d purposely moved onto the next stage of choosing a wife and invited the most suitable candidate to tonight’s cocktail function, a move forward in what had to be done. He wouldn’t allow himself to get waylaid by the tour, and definitely not the presence of Katerina.

‘Of course,’ he replied evenly and turned his full attention to her. She deserved no less. ‘Thank you for attending this evening. Before it ends, I’ll introduce you to the princess.’ If he didn’t such an omission would be catalogued, analysed, like doing so would be. With nods of acknowledgement, he steered a path through the crowd to Katerina yet with each step his throat tightened and beads of sweat gathered at the back of his collar, tempting him to loosen the bow tie that matched his tuxedo. He was doing the correct thing, stating his interest in the most public of ways. Why then did he feel like he was heading straight to his doom?

Katerina remained still watching them approach—her face a little flushed, eyes a little guarded, shoulders a little stiff. A hush spread around the crowd like it was holding its collective breath, everyone knew the significance of what he was doing. Suddenly he wanted to change course, back up, rewind, totally uncharacteristic for him.

‘Princess Katerina, please let me introduce you to Serena Smithson,’ he said once they arrived in front of her.

Serena produced a curtesy and Katerina a wince she was unable to hide although she quickly recovered as greetings passed between the two women.