Chapter 47
“B
ig Al! Where you been hiding all day?” Holly had to stifle a laugh as she saw the Alaskan monarch flinch away from her. It felt like she'd been prowling around the palace half the night. The detail didn't tell her shit; they viewed her as some sort of extra-annoying reporter.
“Get lost,” Al said rudely. “I got enough on my plate without you getting even more annoying. Which I didn't think was possible, until this morning.”
“Rack 'em up,” she told him. “Bowling's no fun for just one.”
So he did. And then he beat her ass so badly at bowling she fumed for ten minutes before challenging him to a rematch.
“Holly.”
“Not now, Big Al, I'm lining up a split that will humiliate the Alaskan monarchy until the end of time.” She was holding up her bright purple bowling ball and measuring the distance. She let fly and knew the second the ball left her hand that it was good. She jumped up and down as the last four pins went over with a clatter, giving her the game. “Boo-ya!
That's
what a good ole Texas whuppin' feels like, Big Al.”
“Don't remind me,” he said sullenly, marking down the score.
“That's one for you and one for me.”
“Thanks, I can count.”
“You wanna go for the tie breaker? U. S. of A. versus Alaska, winner take all?”
He brightened. “What are the stakes?”
“Wellllll . . . tell you what. I win, I get to take you to bed.”
He reddened, but his blue eyes narrowed and he studied her with a look she had seen a thousand times from men of all ages. “And what do I get if I win?”
“Why, the very same thing!”
He threw his head back and laughed. She loved his laugh. Finally, he was able to choke it off and said, “It'll never work, Holly.”
“Don't know 'til you try, ain't that so?”
“But, Holly, I hate you with every molecule in my body.”
“That's why there's all them sparks between us.”
“Sparks? That's one word for it. Germs is what I was thinking.”
“Big Al, you know you can't hold me off forever. A man like you has needs.”
“That's what I always say! But the kids always tell me to shush up.”
“They don't see you like I do, Big Al. And thank goodness.”
He rested a finger on her nose. He leaned in and whispered, “Did you know your accent gets thicker when you're nervous?”
“Nuh-uh, does not. I'm from Texas; nothin' has scared us since the Alamo.”
“Is that right?”
“Bet your royal ass.”
“Holly, the queen and Iâour relationship was very complicated. And I owe the mother of my children someâ”
“The queen is dead,” Holly said. “Long live me. Now rack 'em up.”
Chapter 48
E
dmund Dante smoothed his perfectly smooth suit jacket, patted his unmussed hair, flicked imaginary lint off his shoulder, then left his rooms and strolled toward the west kitchens.
He courteously greeted every staff member by name and received battalions of “Good morning, Mr. Dante,” and “Hi, Edmund,” and “Good morning, sir,” greetings as he went. He stopped one of the chambermaids, fresh from maternity leave, and asked after the baby. He stopped one of Prince Alexander's footmen and asked how his ailing mother was doing.
He knew everyone. He knew everything. The smallest detail did not escape him. All was right with the world.
After observing the kitchen staff for a minute, it was obvious there had been no last-minute disasters and breakfast would be served on time, which today meant 8:00
A.M.
That gave him an hour and a half to read everyone's schedules, wake the king, and be debriefed by the detail.
Yes, it would be close.
He turned to leave, only to hear, “Edmund!”
He turned back, and deftly caught the orange one of the cooks had tossed him. “Put it in your pocket for luck,” she said, smiling. “Knowing you, it's all you'll eat today.”
“Thank you, Carrie. And good morning.”
He found his way to the king's chambers, picking up the schedules from his office on the way. Nothing out of the ordinary here, either, and that was very well. In fact, a refreshing changeâno outside visitors, except for Miss Holly Call-Me-Dragon. Ah, poor King Alexander. She was his cross to bear.
“Good morning, Mr. Dante.”
“Good morning, Mr. Reynolds. All well, I trust.”
“A quiet night,” Reynolds replied. He looked exceptionally cheerful for a normally stone-faced detail man. “For the most part.”
“Oh? Glad to hear it.”
“Yes, sir. Quiet. For the most part.”
“Mr. Reynolds, are you quite all right?”
“Quite, Mr. Dante.” Reynolds fished out his two-way. “Bookman to see Warrior.”
“May I have your permission to enter, Mr. Reynolds?” Not that he needed it. There wasn't a single room in the palace off-limits to him; he had played here as a child and they all knew it. Still, the courtesies must be observed. That was no surprise, either.
“Yes, sir.”
Edmund sighed with satisfaction. No surprises. A place for everything and everything in its place. The sun rose in the east and set in the west. The schedules were constantly updated but always correct.
He rapped twice and opened the door.
And froze.
And did something he had never done in the service of his king: He shouted, “Oh my God, what are you two
doing
?”
Chapter 49
N
atalia was new to the detail and wasn't sure she liked it. Granted, it was the highest honor offered by the Alaskan military. And granted, she had worked hard to get here.
But her charge, Princess Nicole, was sneaking out at night. The king had, inexplicably, begun sleeping with the Dragon. Jeffrey, the detail's rock, was on vacation.
And the woman in charge of Christina's detail confided that she suspected the Crown Princess was pregnant. Like any of them wanted to go on
that
wild ride again. She hadn't been there at the time, but she'd heard all the rumors.
The detail was famous for it; one man's gossip was another woman's way to better protect her charge.
Now here came Mr. Dante, lookingâsay it isn't soârattled.
“Natalia.”
“Sir.”
“The kingâthe kingâ”
“Has there been a schedule update, sir?” she asked, playing dumb.
“Damn right there has!” the man nearly screamed, then got hold of himself. “Forgive me. IâI haven't had breakfast yet. My blood sugar is low.”
“You might try eating that orange in your pocket,” she said helpfully.
“Yes, I might. Is the princess in?”
And that was the sticky spot. Because she had no idea whether Nicole was in there or not. She hadn't heard her leave. But she never did. And Nicole hadn't come past her to get back in. It was shameful to be ready to open a door and have no idea whether her charge was in there or not.
“I . . . think so.”
The sweaty, stressed Edmund started to snap a response, then took a deep breath. “Natalia, please don't worry. The princess can take care of herself, as she has demonstrated again and again. And she's sneaking off to visit Jeff. So even when you don't know where she is, she's in good hands.”
Natalia felt her mouth pop open in surprise and almost broke Rule Number One with a whispered, “How . . .” Because nobody ever asked how Mr. Dante knew everything. He just did.
And he was kind enough to pretend he hadn't noticed her blunder.
So she didn't announce him or anything when he tapped on Princess Nicole's door and at the clear, “It's open!” entered.
She spoke into her two-way. “Bookman to see Hunter.”
“Acknowledged.”
Then she leaned against the wall, wondering what else was in store for the detail in the weeks to come. God knew, it had been a madhouse since the king got the famous letter.
She wondered what was in store for them all next, and found she couldn't wait to see.
That was the trick, the others had told her. That was how they got you. They were a big, merry bunch of troublemakers, and they pulled everyone into their madness.
Natalia checked to make sure the corridor was empty, then smiled, something that would have shocked the already shell-shocked palace inhabitants.
Chapter 50
N
icole was surprised to see a clearly rattled Mr. Dante walk into her room. At least she'd been in her room.
She'd gotten smart after her first visit to Jeff and went to the most diabolical source she knew.
Somehow, within twenty minutes, Nicky had procured a three-story rope ladder that would hold up to 320 pounds. So she no longer had to walk past Natalia when she returned; she just scurried back up the black ladder, which was downright invisible at night.
She was still wearing last night's outfit. Hopefully, Mr. Dante wouldn't notice.
Oh, who was she kidding? He noticed everything.
“Hi, Mr. Dante.”
“Your Highness.”
“You want something? Natalia rustles up a mean cup of coffee, no matter how many times I tell her to quit it.”
“No, Highness.”
She gestured for him to have a seat, but he ignored her. She couldn't help but be curious; what was he doing here? And what was wrong? “What's up?”
“Iâahâthat isâthe kingâI haveâI have beenâ”
“Whoa! You'd better sit down. You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“Infinitely worse,” he said darkly. “And I pray I never see such a sight again. Princess, I have been remiss.”
She was having a hard time following the conversation. Well, it was early. And Edmund was clearly in the middle of a cerebral hemorrhage. “You've what now?”
“I neglected to explain the nature of your security detail.”
“Okay.”
“Do you think you're the only one who needed to leave the palace for an assignation?”
She stared at him. “Uh . . .”
“For one thing, do you think you would be here if royals couldn't sneak away for a little fun now and again?”
“That, um, hadn't occurred toâ”
Wonder of wonders, he actually interrupted her. “Let your detail help you. If you wish to visit Jeffrey, Natalia will take you. And she would never tell the king. Just as the king would neverânever mind.”
There was no point in playing dumb, so she didn't bother. “But Jeffrey
is
my detail.”
“Yes, that poses a problem, doesn't it?”
Suddenly she felt the urge to unburden herself. To tell him everything. She spoke to him like she would her mother. “He says while I'm in his apartment I'm just Nicole. But what about when he comes back from vacation? He won't be with me while he's on duty . . . and the detail considers themselves on duty twenty-four/seven.”
“You mustn't begrudge them their devotion.”
“Who's begrudging? It just makes my life more difficult, that's all.”
“As opposed to what you're doing to Natalia,” he said dryly.
“Hey! I didn't ask for any of this, and you know it.”
“Tough nuts.”
“Andâwhat?”
“You didn't ask. You didn't want. You weren't ready. Nicole Krenski, are you a Princess of Alaska or are you a coward?”
“Call me that again,” she said, “and spend the rest of the spring learning how to grow back your lungs.”
“Then act like one, for pity's sake,” he snapped. “One day, every man, woman, and child will depend upon you for their economy, the quality of their education, the health of the military budget.
Lives
will depend on the smallest decisions you make . . . or don't make.”
“I'm not calming down, Mr. Dante.”
He ignored her. “You fulfilled a dying wish. Then you agreed to a proper DNA test, knowing the consequencesâI explained them to you myself. For better or for worse, you're here now. So be a Baranov, or not. But stop straddling the line.”
He took a breath. She waited. Then, “You done?”
“I think so.”
“Shit or get off the pot, huh?”
“You share your father's gift for the perfect turn of phrase. Also, fire Jeffrey.”
“What?”
“Fire him. Then he will no longer feel conflicted between duty and desire. And you're a woman in your midthirties; you're entitled to take any lover you wish.”
“I could never do that to him! His family's been doing this work for generations. It's all he knows.”
“Then you have a problem. I suspect you will turn your mind toward solving it.”
“Gee, thanks. Any other pearls of wisdom you want me to trip on?”
“None that come to mind,” he admitted. “Please excuse me. I don't know what has gotten into me today.”
“Hey, that's okay. Nobody's perfect.”
“Least of all your father,” he said cryptically, then marched out.