by Peak, Renna
Clara
I’m not sure what makes Nick change his mind. But I’m so excited when he finally agrees to go to the palace “for a couple of hours.” I’d have been disappointed to come all this way and never meet the rest of the royal family.
The palace is breathtaking. I’ve seen pictures of it before, of course, but they didn’t even come close to the real thing. I find myself gawking out the window as our car drives up the long, curving driveway. It looks like something out of a story with all those towers and balconies. I don’t know much about architecture, but I know all those intricate carvings around the windows and doors and along the edges of the roof must have taken years to finish. The whole thing is bigger than I imagined, too.
When the car finally pulls to a stop in front of a large set of steps, the reality finally hits me: I’m about to meet the royal family. Nick’s family. And I wasn’t prepared for this, not today. I’m still wearing my filthy, wrinkled plane clothes, and I haven’t even glanced in a mirror in hours. I probably have mascara smeared across my face and tangles in my hair. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure I own anything these days that would be appropriate for this occasion. Back in New York, I had a closet full of clothes and accessories for any sort of social event, and I can think of at least three different dresses I wish I had at my disposal now. I glance down at myself. Is this the first impression I want them to have of me? A girl in worn jeans and a wrinkly flannel shirt?
Nick reaches over and takes my hand.
“You look fine,” he says, as if he’s read my mind. He gives me a small smile, but I can see the worry in his expression, too. He’s not particularly excited about this meeting, even now.
“Maybe we can do this another time,” I say. “When we’ve both rested and had some time to make ourselves presentable.”
His smile widens, but only a little. “My mother will not accept that excuse, I’m afraid. But rest assured, she also won’t judge us for looking fresh from the ranch.”
The car door opens, and a man in a crisp uniform offers a hand. Nick ignores it as he slides out of the car, then reaches back for me.
As unprepared as I feel, I’m not about to miss this opportunity. I take Nick’s hand and step out of the car.
Pax and Sophia have already climbed out the other side. Pax looks just as out of place as I feel, but Sophia actually looks pleased to be back. She hooks her arm through her husband’s and leads him toward the stairs.
Half a dozen people in uniform—palace servants, I assume—are already unloading our things from the trunk. Nick holds his arm out to me.
“Shall we?” he says. “I’ll get us out of here as quickly as I can, I promise.”
I take his arm and nod, putting on a smile. The whole “fake it until you make it” thing has served me well so far—at least, it got me a job as a ranch manager and led me to Nick—and I might as well trust it to get me through this, too. I remind myself to think of this as an important client meeting. The same principles apply, at the end of the day.
Game face on, I raise my chin as I let Nick lead me up the stairs.
My confidence only falters a little when we reach the top and I recognize the woman standing there, warmly greeting Sophia and Pax. Queen Penelope of Montovia isn’t often in the press, but I remember her face from one of the official portraits released after Prince William’s marriage to Princess Justine of Rosvalia. She’s even more elegant in person than I imagined, and she’s wearing a modern but formal dress that somehow doesn’t look out of place.
As she steps back from hugging Sophia, her eyes land on Nick and me.
“Nicholas,” she says, sweeping toward us with her arms outstretched. She gathers her son up into a hug, and Nick doesn’t resist. He even hugs her back after a moment. When the queen finally pulls away, there’s the faint sheen of tears in her eyes.
“I know you can take care of yourself,” she tells him. “But when you promise to keep in touch and then you don’t, it’s impossible not to worry.” She doesn’t sound the least bit angry, though, only happy. And as she steps back to get a good look at him, her whole face shines with love. It’s a long moment before she finally tears her gaze away from him to look at me. “And who is your friend, Nicholas? Won’t you introduce us?”
“Of course,” Nick replies. “Mother, this is Clara Weaver. She was working as my ranch manager in Montana. Clara, this is my mother, Queen Penelope.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Clara,” the queen says, taking my hand.
“And you, too,” I say confidently, smiling back and pretending I’m not peeved to hear Nick refer to me simply as his ranch manager. “Montovia is even more beautiful than I imagined.”
“Thank you, my dear,” she says warmly. “Hopefully you’ll get to see quite a bit of it during your stay here.” She glances back at Nick. “Sophia tells me you’re thinking of going out to the country estate for an extended stay.”
“That’s the plan, yes,” Nick says. “Clara and I both love the peace and quiet of the countryside, and I thought I might show her a little of what Montovia has to offer. Besides, with all the recent events around here, it’s been far too long since anyone from our immediate family has gone to inspect those estates. I would be surprised if our cousins weren’t starting to get offended at our absence.”
“Well, that’s certainly a mystery that won’t have to wait,” the queen says. “And I hope you’re better with your cousins than your brothers are.”
Nick frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that several of our dear cousins arrived here just yesterday,” his mother answers. “In fact, they’re speaking with your brothers Andrew and Leopold right now, and unless your brothers have learned some diplomacy since last night, I suspect it’s not going particularly well.”
Nicholas
My jaw sets, and I try desperately not to show Clara that this is the precise reason I don’t want to be at the palace—it is far too easy to be drawn into the family drama when I’m here.
Why can’t my family see that? I was in Montana for over two months. Two months with no calls, no urgent messages, no texts—and somehow, the palace is still standing. Why can they not see that these…situations they are constantly finding themselves in are not dire circumstances at all?
My mother smiles. “I’ll find Clara a guest suite, and she can freshen up for dinner.”
I open my mouth to agree with my mother—it wouldn’t do for Clara to share my suite, at least not before I’m able to explain our relationship—but then I look down at her. Her cheeks are as red as I’ve ever seen them, and by the way she continually is smoothing the front of her top, I’ve a strong feeling it’s because of the way she’s dressed.
Of course, she’s beautiful, dressed in her pale grey flannel shirt, tied at the waist above her jeans. But the way she’s dropped her shoulders, almost hunching over to cover herself—it’s quite clear that she feels out of place in the presence of my mother.
And I suppose I should have expected as much. It’s difficult to remember that to everyone else, my mother is the queen. To me, she’s only my mother. And I suddenly want nothing more than for Clara to know that while my family causes me endless amounts of misery, they are also quite wonderful in their own way.
“I think that is a good idea.” I give Clara my most reassuring smile. “But first, I believe Clara needs to visit Sophia.” I’m sure Clara has spent more time than she desires with my sister, but they appear to be nearly the same size, and no one has a larger closet of clothing in the palace than my sister.
I see the look of recognition in my mother’s eyes immediately. “That is a splendid idea, Son. Why don’t I show Clara to your sister’s suite while you check on your brothers?” She gives me a smile that tells me she expects me to do just that as she extends her hand to Clara. “Come, my dear. I’ll give you a short tour of the palace, too.”
Clara’s eyes widen, and though I can see her trepidation, I can also see she’s qui
te pleased with the idea.
I give her a short nod of encouragement, and she takes my mother’s hand before they disappear into the corridor.
My shoulders drop as I turn to walk the other way. My mother didn’t say where my brothers and cousins were meeting, but I expect it can only be one of a few places.
I head to the opposite side of the palace, and it isn’t long before I hear shouting coming from the summer parlor.
There are thousands of rooms inside the palace, all with a specific function or designation. I’ll admit, some of them, I have no idea what that function is, but as for the summer parlor, it is used frequently at this time of year. The sunlight during the day makes it a pleasant place for hosting a less-than-formal event—like receiving a distant cousin.
We’ve many cousins, of course, many of them spread across the land of Montovia. The three in the parlor today, however, are some of our closest, the sons of my father’s cousin.
There’s Caspar, the oldest of the three. By the way he and Andrew stand across from each other, arms folded and eyes narrowed, it would appear that they’re having some sort of row, though it’s not evident about what.
My arrival seems to break everyone from their anger, at least momentarily. Leopold breaks into a grin when he sees me, walking over to clap me on the shoulder.
“It’s good that you’re here. I think we can take them, but three makes it an even fight.”
I close my eyes for a moment, taking in a long breath before I look at my brother. “It’s good to see you, too.” I shake my head before speaking again. “And what are we fighting about this time?”
“Our cousins seem to have it in their head that they own Wintervale Manor” Leopold’s arms flail to his side—he always did become quite animated when he gets upset. “And that Father promised them the estate.”
“And?” I glance over to the other side of the room where Andrew and our cousin Caspar seem to now be in a heated argument.
Leopold looks taken aback. “What do you mean, and? And Wintervale Manor has always belonged in the royal family—”
“And they are members of the royal family, are they not?” My brothers seem to get in a tizzy when they feel anyone is stepping on their birthright. “In fact, isn’t Caspar only one place below Sophia in line for the throne?”
Leopold lifts a brow. “Don’t you dare remind him of that.” Leo glances over at the others before turning back to me. He lowers his voice so that only I can hear him. “They’re talking about some sort of division of power—giving Wintervale some amount of autonomy.”
My brow furrows. “And?” I let out a long breath. “Why must this become our battle? Why—”
“Because Father’s health is still not good. Because if we were to bring this to him…” Leo flings his arms into the air. “Of course, you wouldn’t care.”
“I didn’t say that I didn’t care…” Though, at the moment, I fail to see what the grand emergency is.
Andrew finally notices me and walks over to me, taking me by the elbow to join the others. “Nicholas, you remember our cousins.”
“Of course,” I say as I give them each a polite nod in turn. “It’s been far too long—”
“It’s only been since the State Dinner,” Caspar says. “Not long at all.” He gives me an acerbic smile. “Perhaps you’ll be more amenable to our requests, Nicholas.”
Andrew looks like his head is about to explode. “My brother has no power, Caspar. A fact of which you are quite obviously aware.”
Caspar gives Andrew a mocking shake of his head before he looks at me. “No, I’m quite aware of how much power Nicholas has in this country. It’s approximately the same amount as mine, isn’t it, Cousin?”
I gulp as I look between the two men, but I can’t deny the truth. My place in my family has always been apparent to me—at least in that I don’t have one. I’m asked to help with my two older brothers’ battles from time to time, but other than that… I can only say considering how many children my older brothers have now, I’ve lost count of my actual place in line for the throne at this point, making it little more than an afterthought.
An afterthought. That is exactly how I have felt about my place in my family for most of my life.
I square my shoulders before I look at my brother Andrew. “Yes. Caspar is correct, at least in that regard.”
“Nicholas.” Andrew’s eyes look like they might pop from his head. “I—”
I interrupt. “I think it’s high time that a member of our family visit Wintervale. Caspar is right—it’s only been two months since the State Dinner. When was the last time anyone in our family visited our most remote territory?”
Andrew’s jaw is clenched so tightly, I’m surprised he can speak. “Are you offering, Brother?”
“Yes.” I give my brother and my cousin a polite nod. “Yes, I believe I am.”
Clara
I tell myself there’s no reason to be nervous around the queen—I’ve been around much more intimidating people over the course of my career, people who were purposefully trying to put me off-balance—but it’s hard. I mean, she’s a queen. I may have spent most of my life around New York society, but a queen is on the next level.
“It was so kind of you to accompany Nicholas here,” she tells me as she leads me through the ornate, winding halls. “I know he wasn’t particularly excited to leave Montana, but we’ve been so worried here. I had half a mind to get on a plane and go fetch him myself, but I didn’t want to be apart from Edmund for so long. He needs me here.”
I don’t know much about the king—except that he’s had some general health issues recently—so I just smile and nod.
“Tell me about yourself, Clara,” she continues. “Are you from Montana originally?”
“No. I’m actually from New York. I ended up in Montana on a whim.”
“Much like Nicholas.”
I smile. “Yes. Much like him.”
She looks at me sidelong. “Tell me honestly, then—did Nicholas seem happy there? There’s been a lot of upheaval in our family recently, and I admit I worry how some of my children are handling it. Nicholas has always been so strong—sometimes too strong, if you ask me. He takes so much on his shoulders. Even when he was a child he was always so serious.”
“Nick seemed…happy,” I tell her. “I mean yeah, he was usually pretty serious. But if I had to guess, he enjoyed his home there. He seemed to laugh more easily as the days went by.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the queen replies. She’s still watching me out of the corner of her eye, but if she has anything else to say, she doesn’t say it.
Finally, we stop in front of a door that looks like a dozen others we passed. She raps lightly and then turns back to me.
“I’m very happy you’re here, Clara,” she tells me, and there appears to be genuine kindness in her eyes. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you during your stay. I do so look forward to getting to know you better.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, the door opens, giving me no chance to respond.
Sophia stands in the doorway. “Hey,” she says, looking from one of us to the other. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” her mother replies. “We were just wondering if you might have some clothes Clara could borrow during her stay here.”
Sophia’s face splits into a grin. “Of course! Come in, Clara.”
“I’ll see the two of you at supper,” the queen says. “Have a good afternoon, Clara.”
“Goodbye,” I tell her. “And thank you.”
She floats down the hall as Sophia pulls me into the room. I find myself in a really fancy sitting room with embroidered sofas and a big fireplace against one wall. The walls are covered in ornate wallpaper and feature bronze floral sconces every few feet.
Pax is lounging on one of the sofas, his feet propped up on one of the arms and a stack of stiff-looking pillows beneath his head.
“Hey,”
he says with a little wave. He looks ready to pass out from exhaustion, and I don’t blame him. I feel dead on my feet after that plane ride.
Sophia, on the other hand, is still bursting with energy. She leads me into the bedroom—which is just as large and ornate as the sitting room—and then over to the biggest closet I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You can borrow whatever you like,” she says, sweeping her arm wide. “But I have a few suggestions for what might be appropriate around here.”
Over the next ten minutes, she piles my arms high with clothes—designer sundresses, beautiful skirts and blouses, even some silky pajamas. She also hands me a small assortment of long dresses and gowns—some simple but formal, others covered in beads or lace. As she places them in my arms, she tells me when I should wear them—for family dinner, for state events, for public events—but I lose track pretty quickly. Hopefully Nick can give me some guidance when the time comes to actually put them on.
By the time she’s done, I can barely see over the pile. Sophia giggles at me.
“Let me call for someone to come help you,” she says. “There’s no need to carry those all the way there yourself.”
“I don’t even know where my room is,” I admit.
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. When Sophia answers it, there’s a young woman in the same uniform I’ve seen the other servants wearing.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” she says to Sophia. “Her Majesty has asked me to see Miss Clara to the suite where she’ll be staying.”
“Well, there you go,” Sophia says with a smile. “Anabelle, will you help Clara carry these things to her room?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” the woman replies with a smile. She tries to take the entire load of clothes from me, but I feel bad letting her do that much. We finally settle on half the clothes each, with Sophia smiling and shaking her head at us the whole time.
