Royally Loved: The Royal Romances Books 1-5

by McKenna James

  Giselle nodded. “That’s the one. I have to admit, I’m a bit fuzzy on the details now.”

  Melody shifted anxiously in bed. “Oh, please, Mama? Can Papa tell the story? We’ll be good, we swear!”

  “Okay, sweetheart,” I started. “If I remember correctly, it was a dark and stormy night. The Pramorian Empire had just begun its attack on the Kingdom of Weles. And who do you think was caught in the crossfire?”

  “You make it sound so dramatic,” laughed Giselle.

  “But that is what happened, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, let me tell it.”

  “Be my guest, dear.”

  “Okay,” she said, looking up to the ceiling as she pulled together the events that led to our meeting. “Even though I wanted to scream,” she began, “I didn’t. I was pretty sure there was a rule against princesses raising their voices when in polite company. In general, really. No cursing, no shouting, no laughing too boisterously. So, when the first explosions violently shook the foundation of the villa, all my years of etiquette lessons gave me enough self-control to release the tiniest of gasps behind my hand.”

  Epilogue

  Giselle

  Our thirtieth anniversary was going to be quite the occasion.

  The whole palace—the whole of Idolia—was abuzz about the celebration. I had an entire day full of events planned. First thing in the morning, I was going to surprise Leo with breakfast in bed. I had the chef in the royal kitchens prepare his favorite: heavily buttered sourdough toast, scrambled eggs, a glass of orange juice, and a blueberry muffin. After breakfast was finished, I planned a stroll through the gardens, taking us back to the place where he proposed to me—or more technically, where I proposed to him—where a little tea table had been organized. We’d listen to the soft music of the string quartet I’d hired as we chatted away about everything and nothing at the same time.

  I still had a number of things to do in terms of work. The queen was never allowed a day off, after all. There were too many important meetings to attend, too many important laws and documents to review. But after I finished all my work, I hoped to join Leo in the private library where all our children and grandchildren were waiting with gifts and well wishes. It was a difficult task to get the family together in one place. My eldest son and Crown Prince, Davin, had been away all year in Weles. From what I understood, he was busy courting a young Welesian princess. I’d met her only once, but I thought she was a sweet, adorable little thing.

  My only daughter, Princess Melody, had been living in the Idolian countryside with her husband and three children of her own: Lilianna, Richard, and Georgia. They were ten, eight, and five respectively, and more of a hassle than my children were. My grandkids were vibrant, energetic creatures. Upon hearing the news that they’d be arriving at the palace to spend time with Grandma Giselle and Grandpa Leo, they apparently dashed about their cottage house and ran circles around my daughter.

  Prince Philip was the scholar. He lived abroad, attending university after university in pursuit of science. He was a gifted doctor, just like his father before him, always on the cutting-edge of a brand-new discovery. He often worked side by side with my youngest boy, Prince Benjamin—though he was about twenty now, so I shouldn’t keep calling him that. Benjamin had his father’s humanitarian heart. While he wasn’t as gifted in medical science, he was great at organizing charity efforts to provide aid to those most in need.

  Yes, my children really were my pride and joy.

  That evening’s dinner was going to be the real showstopper, though. I had the house attendants clear out the west wing dining hall and arrange for a number of tables to be set up to accommodate my large family’s numbers. A fantastic feast was ahead of us, full of savory meats, sweet treats, and roasted vegetables. To finish the evening off, there was a multi-tiered chocolate cake waiting to be devoured.

  I woke up that morning, eager to get started. I stretched my arms above my head and crinkled my toes, yawning against the cool morning air. The calm sunlight radiated in through the bedroom curtains, casting everything in soft white light. I was surrounded on all sides by fluffy pillows and soft blankets. I had to admit that it was incredibly tempting to just stay in bed, cuddled up to Leo for warmth.

  Beside me, a little cough sounded from beneath a heap of pillows.

  I rolled over and pulled the covers down from over Leo’s face. “Good morning, sweetheart,” I whispered.

  “Mornin’,” he grumbled. Leo’s voice was gruff and scratchy, and his nose appeared to be stuffed and red. I sat up to get a better look, brushing my fingers across his brow to smooth away his messy hair. His forehead was incredibly warm.

  “Are you feeling alright?” I asked. “Goodness, you’re so warm.”

  Leo coughed into his hand, but shook his head. “No, I’m fine, darling. No need to worry.”

  “Oh, please, it’s far too early for stubbornness. Let me check on you.”

  I pulled a couple pillows away to get a better look at my husband. Even though there were a few more wrinkles about the corners of his eyes and his lips had thinned a bit, I still thought he was as handsome as the day we first met that fateful day on the Obsidian Vow. His face was pale, but his upper cheeks were flushed pink. His nose was bright red, and the skin of his lips was cracked and chapping. Leo coughed again into his elbow. It sounded harsh and wet all at the same time, congested and sharp. It didn’t sound too serious, however, just a common cold.

  “Would you look at that?” I mumbled to myself. “The Royal doctor is sick!”

  Leo managed the flimsiest of smiles. “First time in years too. I should get an award.”

  I pressed my fingers to his lips and giggled. “Hush, go back to sleep. I’ll have the chef prepare some soup for you.”

  Leo shook his head and shifted, attempting to sit up. “No, no. I don’t want to spend our anniversary in be–” He broke out into a fit of coughs, his last words pinched off like he was trying to hold back the severity of his cold. “I’m fine,” he insisted.

  I placed my hands on his chest and urged him to lay back. “I’m sure you are, but just to be safe, stay in bed. I’ll have someone bring you some cough medicine.”

  “But you were really looking forward to today.”

  I cupped his cheek, the prickly hairs of his beard scratching my palm. “That may be true, but I’d rather my husband be happy and healthy instead of miserable and dragging himself around for my sake.” I pulled the blankets up and tucked them beneath his chin. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Let me take care of everything.”

  I rose from bed, but didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas. With a quick phone call to my private secretary, I had a bowl of warm chicken soup brought up for Leo to eat. I also made arrangements to deal with the events I’d organized for the day. The second I hung up, I crawled back into bed with my husband and lay on my side, fondly brushing my fingers through his hair as I watched him struggle against his own eyelids as sleep tried to drag him under.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Whatever for?”

  “I know you were looking forward to today.”

  I smirked. “I’m not going to hold it against you for being sick, sweetheart. It happens.”

  Just then, three sharp knocks sounded at the door.

  “Mother? Father?” called Davin’s voice from the other side. “I just got your message. May I come in?”

  “Come on in, honey!” I said.

  The door to our bedroom creaked open. Davin poked his head in and said, “I heard you were feeling unwell. I landed just a couple of hours ago and thought I’d stop by. Look who I ran into in the lobby.”

  Davin stepped into the room and out of the way, making way for Melody’s children. Lilianna, Richard, and Georgia dashed inside, giggling wildly as they climbed onto the bed to sit near Leo.

  Georgia gave her grandfather a tight hug. “We hope you feel better!”

  Richard was similarly affectionate,
crawling into my lap. “You’re not contagious, are you?”

  Lilianna, arguably the sweetest girl to ever walk the Earth, carefully sat herself on the edge of the bed instead of climbing all over us. “I hope you get well soon, Grandpa.”

  It was then that Melody walked into the room, followed by my youngest sons, Philip and Ben. Melody had grown into a fine young lady. I rather liked to think she was the spitting image of me when I was younger. Philip looked like his father, boasting a handsome face, square shoulders, and wonderful bluish-green eyes. And Ben, darling Ben, was the perfect combination of both his parents with light amber eyes and dirty blond hair.

  Melody sighed. “Kids, get off the bed. Did you even greet Grandma, first?”

  I giggled. “It’s fine. They’re just excited.”

  I turned to Leo who, despite his poor health, was smiling wide. As the first of the house attendants entered the room with soup for him and tea for everyone else, I couldn’t help but notice the tears welling up in the corners of Leo’s eyes. If I recalled correctly, this was his dream—to be surrounded by family with a house full of our children. I supposed that, even if we couldn’t get to all of the day’s festivities, that this alone was enough.

  In fact, it was perfect.

  The End

  ROYAL HOLIDAY

  MCKENNA JAMES

  ROYAL HOLIDAY

  1

  Rodrigo

  There’s no place like home.

  It had been years since I’d returned to Brooklandia, but it was nice to see that very little had changed in my time away. The downtown street market was as lively and vibrant as I remembered it. Even in the early morning chill, people bustled this way and that, eager to get on with the day’s business. A thin layer of frost still covered the red brick beneath the market’s feet, and my breath came out in the form of a silver cloud.

  There was an excited buzz in the air, no doubt to the holidays fast approaching, accompanied with the sounds of jingling bells, wishes of good cheer, and the caroling of a small volunteer group that had set up for their Christmas performance at the marketplace’s center fountain. It hadn’t snowed yet, but the weather forecast was predicting a wonderfully white Christmas. That being said, my fellow countrymen knew that the holidays really didn’t begin until the Crown’s annual Midnight Magic Ball, which was always hosted two weeks prior to Christmas Eve. Only then did the countdown truly begin.

  “Fresh eggs!” shouted a poultry farmer from next to her booth. She was bundled up in a puffy red winter coat, a checkered black and brown wool scarf wrapped around her neck and a bit of her face. “Collected this morning! Buy two cartons, get one free!”

  I strolled past a couple of the vendors, admiring the brilliantly colored winter fruits and glazed pastries that they had for sale. The whole market smelled like gingerbread, peppermint, and fresh pine. I was glad to see that the old toymaker still had his little booth at the corner end of the market. When we were still children, Marina and I would make sure to pay him a visit every year. He’d always have something special waiting for us. When I was five, he gifted me a hand-carved toy soldier, while Marina was gifted a magnificent music box with a dancing ballerina figure on top. When I was six, I received a stunning remote control model ship, while Marina was given an incredibly beautiful paint set with her own miniature easel.

  The old toymaker glanced up from the small wood carving he was working on—a little bear with an unbelievable amount of detail—and smiled at me.

  “Young Master Sabatino?” He chuckled lowly. Years of smoking had made his voice rough like sandpaper. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  “I’m surprised you remember me,” I said, smiling politely.

  “My, not so young anymore, eh? How long has it been since you visited last?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe ten years?”

  “Where’d you disappear to, dear boy? The princess always looked so lonely coming to the market by herself.”

  My heart beat twice in the space of one at the mention of Marina. We were close once, but that had been a decade ago. I was sure she’d forgotten all about me by now, even if I hadn’t forgotten her. It was difficult to forget someone like Marina. She was lighthearted, always laughing. I remembered how the sound of her sweet giggles seemed to brighten up every room of the palace. We were as thick as thieves, two peas in a pod. Her royal title and the fact that she was heir to the throne didn’t matter to me. Marina was my best friend, and she was a lot of fun to be around. That was all that mattered to me.

  Life was simpler back then.

  “My father sent me to study abroad,” I explained after a moment. “I just finished a degree in political science.”

  The toymaker stroked his wiry grey and white beard. It formed a bit of a triangular point hanging off his dimpled chin. “Ah, following in Senator Sabatino’s footsteps, are you? Good for you.”

  “I haven’t really decided yet, actually.”

  “You’re still young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you to figure it out.” He turned on his stool, bending over slightly to pick something up from beside his foot. He held out a hand-painted figurine of a little knight in shimmering silver armor. I took it in the palm of my hand and grinned at the tiny trinket. “I may as well give you that,” the toymaker said. “It’s only fair.”

  “Fair?”

  “I can’t give her a gift and leave you out, now can I?”

  I blinked, heart once again palpitating against my ribcage. “She… She was here?”

  He nodded. “Yes, about half an hour ago. Princess Marina still visits every year, that sweet girl. Though, I must admit that it’s getting harder and harder to come up with gifts for her. I don’t suppose young women like to play with dolls as much. I think she said she wanted to listen to the carolers before going home.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Could it be that she was still here? Maybe if I was fast enough, I’d be able to see her. It would be nice to catch up after all this time. I quickly reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet, but the toymaker raised his hand and shook his head. “None of that, now. Consider it free, for old time’s sake.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope to see you again next year, Master Sabatino.”

  “And I, you. Have a Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas!”

  I weaved in and out through the crowd, following the sound of lovely voices singing in harmony. There was already a large group of people gathered around the center fountain, inclusive of a massive wall of incredibly stoic royal guards. They weren’t dressed in their full uniforms, but they still stuck out like a sore thumb in their pressed black suits and radio pieces wrapped around their ears. I remembered thinking that they were terrifying when I was a little boy, able to throw me a thousand yards if Marina asked them to. Now that I stood at eye level with the security team’s tallest member, the thought of approaching didn’t make me as nervous.

  People were standing shoulder to shoulder, so it was next to impossible to worm my way toward the front. Past the wall of guards, I could just make out the top of a woman’s head. Her hair was a stunning blonde, resembling something close to liquid gold. Her locks were pulled up into a lovely twisted bun, pinned in place with a silver hair clip adorned with pearls and shaped to resemble a row of delicate little flowers. I could only see the back of her head, but I knew in an instant that it was her.

  Princess Marina Parisier, heiress apparent to the throne of Brooklandia.

  The carolers wrapped up the last couple of verses to their arrangement of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The crowd started to applaud when out of nowhere, something whizzed right past one of the performer’s heads. It took a second for me to realize what it was. On the ground, an egg had shattered against the pavement, fragments of brown shell and goopy yolk spattering about. Another egg landed at the feet of one of the royal guards.

  “Down with the Crown!” someone from the very back screamed at the top of th
eir lungs. It was some disgruntled punk of a kid, probably no older than me. He looked a bit thin, the skin of his cheeks hanging off his bone. His throws were incredibly weak and imprecise despite the grand show he made of winding up. “Say no to conscription! Allendes is not our mission!” He threw another egg, this time hitting Marina along the edge of her shoulder.

  Her guards moved at an alarming speed. Two men moved to apprehend the assailant while the rest formed a protective circle around her, ushering her quickly away. The people around us broke out into an uproar, loud shouts ringing in my ears. Some of them were baffled, appalled that someone would dare make such a public move against Marina, while others chanted enthusiastically with the man. People started to push and shove, getting in each other’s way. I was stuck between two pro-monarchists, unable to gain an inch.

  “Down with the Crown! Down with the Crown!” the egg-throwing man continued to scream as he was dragged away.

  From where I was, I could see Marina getting into a waiting SUV with black-tinted windows. I managed to catch a glimpse of her profile as she slipped into the back of the vehicle, stunned momentarily in awe.

  I remembered thinking that Marina was pretty for the first time on her eighth birthday. She came into the room in a brand new dress her mother had purchased for her. Her golden hair was shorter back then, a bit curlier, tied to the side in a single plait. I remembered thinking she looked just like the princesses in the fairy tales her maid would read us before bedtime. Of course, eight-year-old me would never have said that aloud. I’d been a child then, still afraid that girls could give me cooties if they stood too close.

  But the Marina I saw now was more than just pretty. She was gorgeous. The chubbiness of her cheeks had disappeared, replaced with high cheekbones that caught the sunlight at just the right angle to make her skin glow. She finally grew into that nose of hers, now long and sharp where it once appeared to take up the majority of space on her face. Her lips were fuller, but not as pouty as they used to be. Overall, she gave off a general air of elegance and calm, which stood in stark contrast to the hyperactive little girl I remembered her to be.