The aroma from the tea farm is incredible, though Liam says it’s less the still growing plants and more from the roasting house in the distance. The plants themselves are deep green, unassuming looking shrubs planted in long rows that stretch up the mountainside. Between them, people with hand held baskets pluck the leaves by hand.
I wave as we drive by, many of them waving back.
It’s a quiet, slow life here, I realize. Not the bustling of the capital around the palace, but a leisurely, welcoming place.
It’s no wonder that Liam prefers this to the crowded town around the palace. Though it’s only a short distance away, it feels like another world.
Returning to the palace garage, we hand off the keys and make our way inside. Liam pauses at the first guard we encounter.
“Is he still in with the council?” he asks.
The guard nods.
As we approach our room, Tommy steps out from the door across the hall.
“There you are,” he says, waving us inside.
“What is it?” Liam asks, his tone worried. “Shouldn’t you be in with the council?”
Closing the door, Tommy faces me. He’s in a much more demure suit jacket than the last time I saw him, only now he’s sporting a garish orange tie and matching belt.
“I had to come tell you,” he says.
“Tell us what?” I ask, wondering what could possibly be so important.
“Oh hell, he didn’t abdicate, did he?” Liam asks.
Flames instantly hit my face. Was it something I’d said? The text I’d sent? Had I somehow managed to muck everything up for Aiden with a few careless words?
“No,” Tommy says, and Liam exhales deeply.
“Then what?”
“Sarah opened a motion to change the laws requiring the king to marry someone with a national title. She’s argued that limiting the prospective partners of the royal family runs the risk—in time—of familiar inbreeding. She mostly blamed it on the refusal of land owners to divide or sell their property, thus dooming the council to continue with limited membership.”
“Statistically, she’s not wrong,” I say, thinking of our earlier conversation, but Tommy cuts me off.
“She’s also argued that it is unconscionable to force the crown to choose between such a limited pool of perspective suitors.”
Liam rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s a smart play, actually. If they agree, problem solved and Aiden can marry whoever he wants. If they refuse, she can make it seem as if her selling land to Haven is an attempt to widen the council pool, rather than a direct attack against Genevieve’s candidacy.”
“So instead of seeming like she’s forcing an outsider on them, she gets to come off as bringing in fresh blood to revitalize a stagnant monarchy,” I say. “Tommy, don’t take this the wrong way, but your sister’s an evil genius.”
“I’m sure she’d consider that a compliment,” he says proudly. “She’s pushing for an immediate vote, but knowing these people, it will most likely be debated for a few days before that happens.”
“There is one downside,” I chime in. “The moment I show up with Liam tonight, Genevieve is gonna know something’s up. With the existing law in place, as far as she knows I’m just Liam’s commoner date—not worth looking twice at. But if they’re actively having discussions about lifting that restriction—I’m instantly on her radar.”
“That’s a good point,” Tommy says, pointing at me. “And if she feels threatened by you, there’s no telling what she’ll do.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Liam agrees. “As much as I hate putting you in her crosshairs, it was going to happen eventually. I did, however, think we’d have the element of surprise at least.”
“The way I see it, we can play it one of two ways,” Tommy offers. “The first, you two go in as a couple, play it up, so that Genevieve believes you’re one of Liam’s—”
He’s about to say something when Liam cuts him off with a grunt.
“—girlfriends.” Tommy decides. “If you’re with Liam, you’re not a threat. If you can make her believe it.”
“Downside,” Liam says. “Once you put in your papers for a place on the council—and you will have to do that because either way there’s zero chance Genevieve lets this motion pass—everyone will think you’re nothing but a social climbing slut trying to manipulate her way into the King’s heart via his best friend’s bed.”
“Ouch. Ok, or?” I ask
Tommy continues, “Or, you go in completely open. I’ll circulate the rumor that you’re an old friend of Liam’s from the states, here for the coronation. You let the lords see you with the King, being your charming, graceful self, and maybe they start warming to the idea of a foreign queen.”
“Downside, the bill still doesn’t pass and now Genevieve is immediately and actively trying to sabotage you.”
I chime in, “Upside, even when the proposal fails, when I put in my papers, the rest of the council still respects me and believes that I have Aiden’s best interest at heart. They may not get a say in anything, but it will make it that much harder for her to slander me to them, at least.”
“More upside,” Tommy adds. “When the council realizes that Sarah has gifted you the lands enough to be a contender, it shows everyone that House Norwood is on your side. My sister is a powerful ally—and she commands a lot of respect on the council. That, and telling them you’re Liam’s friend gains you instant respect points. Even they know how tight he is with Aiden, and how much his family has done for the country.”
“What if they figure out that’s a lie?” I ask.
Liam interjects, “Well, it’s not, is it? We’re friends. Plus, you are naming your house for my family.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Tommy gushes.
“Once I’m on the council, I’m eligible. At that point, it’s Aiden’s choice. So what’s Genevieve’s play? How does she convince him not to choose me?”
“She could try to deem you medically unfit?” Tommy says.
“Healthy as a horse,” I say. My mind drifts back, laying in bed after the surgery that repaired so many of my insides, the doctor telling me that it might be difficult—but not impossible—to have children. At the time the thought was enough to make me throw up. Now, however, a new surge of relief floods through me.
“No, she’ll be subtler than that. She’ll have to convince Aiden that his feelings for you don’t matter. She’ll be trying to make you look unfit to be queen.”
“Could that work?” I ask seriously. “Because, let’s be real, I am woefully unqualified to be queen.”
“We’ll help with that,” Tommy promises. “Consider me your advisor and guru on all things life at court.”
“It’s more than knowing which fork to eat with, its politics. It’s trade agreements and national holidays and visiting dignitaries,” I say. “It’s knowing the people and what they need and how to provide for and protect them. It’s justice and mercy and compassion.”
Tommy sidles up to Liam, whispering out the corner of his mouth.
“She’s perfect. They’re gonna love her.”
I wave him off, “Alright, then I vote we go in guns blazing. You two keep Genevieve as distracted as possible so I can get Aiden to myself for a few minutes to let him know what’s going on.”
“Oh, once he sees you, he’ll know what’s going on,” Liam assures me.
“Even so,” I say. “And if anyone asks, I’m just Liam’s charming friend from the states.”
“Awesome, but, and I hate to point out the obvious, you two look like you spent the day wrestling giant squid and you both smell like deviled eggs.” He points at this watch, “And your stylist is going to be arriving in less than an hour. So, hop to it.”
With that he dismisses us to our room.
“You go first, I’m going to take longer,” I say, flopping onto the sofa and pulling my new phone out of the box.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he says with a sw
eeping bow.
I frown at him.
“Just practicing,” he teases, stripping off his t-shirt and tossing it onto my head.
“Ew,” I say, plucking it off with two fingers and tossing it aside. “We do smell like deviled eggs.”
“Deviled eggs are delicious,” he says, heading for the shower.
The door is already closed when I shout, “Not when they’re in your hair.”
There’s a knock at the door and I hop up to answer it. A petite maid stands with a silver tray of food.
“Dinner, ma’am,” she says.
On reflex I grab the heavy tray from her hands, “Oh here, let me help.”
Bringing it in I set it on the now empty stand in the corner of the room.
“Ah, and Marta asked me to bring you this as well,” she says, producing a green bottle from her apron. “It’s Hopa Wine.”
“Thanks,” I say, accepting the bottle. “Hey, can I ask you something silly?”
She nods.
“Is this stuff…someone told me it was considered an aphrodisiac. Is that true?”
Her voice is small but amused when she answers, “I have never heard that, but it is very potent, especially in wine form. The alcohol sugars are very high and it’s very sweet.”
I narrow my eyes at the closed bathroom door. “That’s what I thought, thanks.”
Staring at the closed bathroom door, I decide to give Liam a taste of his own medicine.
When Liam steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and another drying his hair, I stand next to the bed, leaning back against the post as I watch him with hooded eyes.
“Are you ok?” He asks, looking around the room.
With slow, deliberate steps I make my way to him, not stopping until our bodies are almost touching.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Marta sent up a bottle of Hopa Wine and suddenly I’m feeling so…warm inside.” I breathe the last word, laying my hands on his chest.
“She did what? How much did you drink?”
I shrug, “A few glasses. I just kept thinking about you, in there in the shower, the hot water pouring down your body.”
Biting my lip, I look down meekly.
“I almost came in. I wanted to.”
He’s staring at me, his mouth hanging open.
“You were right I guess,” I tuck my chin towards my shoulder, “about the fruit. I should have believed you. But now… I just can’t control myself.”
He’s frozen, paralyzed as I run my hands down his chest. He grabs them before they can make contact with the towel.
“Haven,” he whispers, a warning. “It’s not…the fruit. It was just a joke.”
Taking a step back, I flip him off.
“And now we’re even.”
He clutches his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack, you know that, right? You can’t do that to a guy. Jesus.”
“Consider it payback for making me think I’d consumed some kind of mind-altering fruit.”
“You’re a terrible actress, for the record.”
“For the record, you believed me. For a minute you thought you were going to have to pry me off your naked body, admit it.”
“Did she really send the wine though? That stuff is my favorite.”
“She did, and I hope you enjoy it. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go clean the sulfur off my scalp.”
“You should leave it on, since you’re the devil.”
“You know what they say, be the mythical hellbeast you want to see in the world.”
“I’m really starting to regret bringing you here,” he says, shaking his head.
I wink, “No you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” he mutters, heading into the closet.
The shower is long and hot and I use an entire bottle of bodywash to get the last of the dry sulfur water off my body. Washing my hair for the second time, I finally feel clean, scrubbed fresh, and ready for the night ahead. Drying off, I slip into a fluffy cotton robe hanging on the back of the door and wrap my hair into a towel turban before opening the door.
Liam is mostly dressed, shirt and pants at least. To my surprise Tommy and Sarah are joining him around the table, speaking in hushed tones.
“Hey, how did it go?” I ask. “Tommy told us about your proposal. It was a bold move.”
“Thanks,” she says. “Though the council is as reluctant as I expected. The official vote is tomorrow. No doubt Genevive will spend the evening rallying votes to her side.”
“Good, that should keep her occupied.”
“Liam has filled me in on your plans, and I wholeheartedly agree. Between the three of us, we’ll introduce you to everyone you’ll need to be familiar with.”
“A few tips for tonight,” Tommy offers, motioning for me to sit. I rest on the arm of the couch, one leg folding underneath me. “First, if anyone asks where you’re from, be honest. But be sure to mention your residence’s proximity to the United Nations building. We got a spot in the UN a few years ago and they love being reminded of it.”
“Plus it creates an association between you and important international events,” Sarah adds.
“If they ask what you do, you can say you’re studying computer science, or even that you work in computers. It makes you seem smart and forward thinking.”
“Ok,” I say. “Is there anything I should avoid saying?”
“Religion, politics, and any sort of potentially confrontational topics are best avoided. Oh, and the Prime Minister and his wife will be attending. The poor woman suffered an illness last year and she lost her hair so she often wears wigs or large hats. It’s best not to stare.”
“And what is the Prime Minister’s role at court?”
“He presides over the council, though he does not vote there. He keeps order, manages the civil service, and executes the will of the government. Some things, formal declarations of war, for example, can only be decided by the council. Others, such as the use of the national forests, fall under royal prerogative, meaning the crown has universal control over them. Often, the Prime Minister acts as the King’s representative, making his wishes known to the council, even when he does not get formal say.”
I take a deep breath. “Flash cards, I need flash cards.”
Sarah grins, “Make it through tonight, and I’ll make you some myself. For now, focus on the immediate task.”
“Right. What’s the immediate task again?”
She points to the bathroom, “Drying your hair, the stylist will be here soon. Boys, I’m sending you off to our room so I can help Haven get ready.”
Tommy stands obediently, but Liam pouts, “But this is my room.”
“Out,” she says sternly, and he reluctantly shuffles to the door.
Once he’s gone she stands, walking over to me. Straightening, she holds out one arm, bent at the elbow, palm flat to the ground.
“Tonight, there is a formal entrance procession. The King enters first, followed by the council members, then the Prime Minister, foreign ambassadors, and finally the non-titled in attendance, of which there will be few—including you and Liam. This is the proper way to enter, Liam on the left, you on the right, your hands together but not clasped. Lay your arm on mine.”
I obey.
“They will announce you and you will enter from the west doors, the King will be standing at the throne in the north side of the room greeting people as they enter.”
She leads me in a slow circle. “You approach the King first, Liam bows and you curtsey.”
She bows and I curtsey.
“Good. You’ve done that before.”
“They make you learn to square dance in High School in Kansas. It’s how you start.”
She snorts. “Alright, once you’ve greeted the King, you are released to go mingle. Get a glass of champagne, meet and greet with the others attending. I’ve arranged for you to enter the hall last, that will give you time to speak with Aiden without anyone waiting beh
ind you, then you and Liam will come join us.” She hesitates, dropping her arm, “This is important. If someone asks you to dance, you must say yes. To snub anyone would be considered extremely rude. You can ask other people to dance with you—with the exception of the King. He must ask you, not the other way around. And know that it’s custom for him to dance with any woman eligible for selection as well—including both myself and Genevieve. But he is permitted to dance with each lady only once—lest he show favoritism.”
“Does that include me?”
She nods, “If he asks you to dance, you only get one. On the upside, because you only get one, no one can cut in. However, should you find yourself dancing with someone simply unbearable, scratch the back of your neck and I’ll send someone to cut in and rescue you.”
“Right, ok, got it.”
“The King can take his leave at any time, but once he does, the ball is over. Sometimes people hang around and chat a while longer, but more often they just retire. Previous monarch would hold a secondary, less formal gathering in a separate chamber after the event, but I don’t believe that Aiden has plans for that.”
There’s a knock at the door and Sarah heads to answer it, “Now go dry your hair.”
I obey, the noise from the blower drowning out all but the faintest voices from the other room.
My hair dry and poofy, I head back to the main area and see that it’s been overtaken completely. Two tables are set up like a nail salon on one side of the room, another with a wide makeup mirror and tall chair sit near the closet. A rack of shoes has been brought in, and case after case of makeup. Kimma is sitting on the sofa, having a cup of tea.
Taking me by the hand, Sarah drags me to the nail station. I wiry woman with golden curls and a ruffled choker so wide it reaches from her collarbone to her ears holds out a hand to me.
“I’m Lydia, your stylist for the evening,” she beams.
“I’m Haven, nice to meet you,” I offer in return, shaking her hand.
“I was thinking we could start with nails first?”
“Sure, where do you want me?”
Once Upon A New York Minute: Part 1 Page 11
