The Royals of Monterra: Royal Delivery (Kindle Worlds)

by Rebecca Connolly

  It wasn’t enough.

  I had an army of elves at my disposal, staff members who were so keen to please me that they would sing Christmas carols along with Serafina and I as we decorated more of the palace. Nico and Dante and Rafe helped when they could, being taller and way more agile than me, and they only offered mild complaints, which was an improvement.

  Rafe had finally forgiven me for trying to organize his closet, so that was nice.

  Lemon found my Christmas nesting a perfect opportunity to do another story, despite being fresh off of baby delivery herself. She called in photographers and some of our favorite journalists to see how I was “preparing for the baby” during the holiday season.

  It was my most favorite publicity stunt I’ve ever done.

  We set up in the largest family room in the palace where our massive Christmas tree was. Lemon had conceded to my need to nest and had all of the ornaments and ribbons taken off for me to replace at my will, leaving only the lights and the star. Presents were scattered beneath, but those were just empty boxes that had been wrapped up and labeled.

  I would organize those later.

  Chiara and Lemon shut down my vote to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, stating that it was a “silly American trend” that wouldn’t do me any favors. But I was permitted a Santa hat, so I didn’t complain. Much.

  I decorated the tree as I talked with the visitors, which apparently would make me seem more at home and warm. Something about looking domestic despite being the queen, or some such. I didn’t know, I just wanted to keep decorating.

  We addressed head on the rumors about my potential Christmas baby, which were bound to come up, and while I might have been mentally snarling at the implication of that, I only smiled and said I could not predict any more than the doctor when the baby might come, so I was doing my best to be prepared at a moment’s notice.

  “Do you have a birthing plan, Your Majesty?” one of the younger female reporters asked.

  I turned to smile at her. “Yes, I do.” I waited a beat as they all fixed on me. “Get the baby out.”

  That had them laughing, and I smiled kindly at the reporter who had asked. “Any tips, Adriana?”

  She smiled back and said, “I have no children, Your Majesty. But perhaps I may turn to you when I do?”

  I nodded in acceptance, which seemed to delight the others.

  “Will you attend the mass on Christmas Eve?” another asked.

  “We will see. I have no set plans beyond next week, you understand why. I will attend everything I am able to.”

  “And the festival?”

  “I believe I just answered that in the previous question.”

  “Your Majesty, what is your favorite part of Christmas?”

  I looked up at the question, surprised. The young reporter looked unperturbed, but Lemon stood suspiciously close. I had a feeling she had prodded that one, trying to get us back on the holiday track.

  I smiled at them both. “Well, that is a very difficult question. I have always loved Christmas,” I told him. “It is a magical time of year. But I don’t think it meant as much to me as it does now.”

  “Why is that?” someone else asked.

  I bit back a sigh. Here we go again.

  Smiling my most benevolent smile, I reached for another ornament. “Surely you all remember that I first met the king over a Christmas holiday here in Monterra?”

  Their reactions were a very coordinated effort to make me think they had no idea how Nico and I met, though the TV special that had aired before the wedding had played the whole thing out.

  No big deal. I could tell it again.

  “We met on the ski slopes and I suffered an accident,” I recited, having memorized the script of our story a long time ago. “The king happened to witness it and had me brought to the palace for the proper care, and I was fortunate to be able to spend Christmas with the royal family.” Here I paused for another smile. “I must say, I was quite impressed with the way that Monterra celebrates Christmas.”

  The reporters laughed, and I went on with the story, focusing on the holiday aspects, and going into our wedding on Christmas last year, and the special meaning that would always have.

  They began asking me more specific questions, favorite holiday treat, song, tradition, and anything else they could think of.

  I didn’t mind any of it. Talking about Christmas was way more fun than talking about having a baby on Christmas.

  Eventually, it started to get old, and I finally turned to them and said, “I think that might be enough questions. Who wants to help me decorate this tree before His Majesty sees that I cannot reach the top without a ladder? You know he won’t let me stand on one of those.”

  Amazingly, that seemed to work. They loved the opportunity to decorate the Royal family’s tree, and probably even knew that it would be redecorated within hours of their handiwork, but they didn’t seem to care that much. It was always fun to decorate a tree, unless you were an absolute Scrooge.

  The staff brought up some special hot chocolate and holiday treats, which were also a big hit, and the cameramen were loving the play of the fire on me and on the tree, the snow falling outside the windows, and everything. It was apparently the most perfect Christmas setting anyone had ever seen.

  Points for palace decorators yet again.

  They asked more innocent questions, such as what I wanted for Christmas, what the king wanted for Christmas, and what I had given members of the royal family for Christmas. I played those off with smiles, but I did hint that I never received holiday socks, and wouldn’t that be something fun to receive? I told them Nico was impossible to shop for, when, in reality, he was so easy. And I couldn’t possibly share what I had purchased for the family, as they would never be able to keep it secret, and it would all be ruined.

  “What do you wish for the baby for Christmas?” one of them asked.

  I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it in thought. “I wish for a healthy, happy baby,” I finally said with a smile. “One who loves Christmas as much as their father and I do.”

  That seemed to satisfy them, and they filed out one by one, thanking us for our time.

  The moment they were gone, I kicked off my sensible but not that comfortable shoes, and got on my hands and knees under the tree.

  “Kat,” Lemon asked when she came back in and I was still under there, “what in the name of Aunt Edie’s peach pie are you doing?”

  “Organizing the presents.”

  “The fake presents that we wrapped this morning for the shoot just so we could have presents under the tree?” she asked, her cynicism as heavy as her drawl. “Those presents?”

  “Those would be the ones, yep.”

  She snorted loudly. “Why?”

  I sighed and stuck my head out from under the tree. “Because even fake presents need to be organized, okay?”

  She shrugged. “Okay.” She flopped down onto the couch and took a cookie from a nearby plate. “You organize to your nesting desires. I’m just gonna sit here and eat cookies and laugh about your aches and pains later.”

  On cue, my baby pounded against my ribs hard, apparently liking her aunt’s suggestion of cookies. I groaned and crawled out from under the tree.

  Christmas cookies were Christmas cookies, after all.

  And I could make Nico organize the presents later.

  “I hate being pregnant,” I sighed to Lemon as I took a cookie and sat down, propping my swollen feet up.

  Lemon echoed my sigh as she chewed. “Yep. But there are perks.”

  “Like?”

  “Nobody questioning your random present organization and people falling over themselves to help you.”

  I laughed at that. “So true. Think someone will fall over themselves to bring us milk for our cookies?”

  She grinned and shrugged. “Try it and see.”

  And you know what? It worked.

  Maybe it wasn’t so bad being pregnant after all.
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br />   CHAPTER SIX

  The Present

  “Picnics are so much fun!” Serafina squealed around a mouthful of cheese and crackers. “Good idea, Kat!”

  I lounged on the chaise (I still got a kick out of the fact that I HAD a chaise) in my room like a very fat Queen of Sheba and grinned at her. “No problem. Thanks for letting me do lunch up here instead of downstairs.”

  Chiara was lying on her stomach on the floor, which made her look much younger than her fifteen years, and she tilted her head up at me. “When are you going to have the baby, Kat? It’s been forever.”

  Oh, boy, she had no idea.

  But I was over the whole thing now. I had stopped trying to get the baby to come; it was just too exhausting to care anymore. And nesting the crud out of my life had given me new focus and relaxed me a lot.

  Well, except for irritating reporters and cranky hormonal mood swings. Other than that, I was fine. Couldn’t sleep a wink, but I was fine. I hurt like someone was prying my hips apart, but I was fine.

  Perfectly fine.

  “I don’t know,” I finally answered on a sigh. “Whenever he or she wants, I guess.”

  Serafina pouted. “Well, I hope it doesn’t spoil Christmas.”

  “Serafina!” Violetta scolded from the bed.

  I grinned and slid a glance over at her. “Don’t worry, I’ve had that same thought a few times. But I really don’t have any control over that.”

  Serafina folded her arms, looking grumpy. “I guess not. But the baby can’t stay in there forever, I’m running out of pictures to draw.”

  I raised a brow at her and set my plate aside. “What pictures?”

  She was suddenly shy, and looked down at her glittery fingernails. “I draw pictures.”

  That much I had figured. I fought a smile, glancing at her sisters to see a similar expression on their faces. “Of what?” I prodded, keeping my face carefully blank.

  “The baby.” Serafina wrinkled her nose up a little. “Well, not of the baby itself, but how big it is.”

  I wasn’t quite following, and my game face apparently needed work, because she saw it and huffed, then got to her feet and held out a hand.

  “Come to my room, I’ll show you,” she said with all the imperiousness of a nine year old who knows she is right.

  I took her hand and let her pull, knowing she would never get me to my feet when I outweighed the entire city of Cleveland, but when her sisters helped her, they managed to get me to an upright and stable position on my own two feet. Surprisingly, though, Chiara and Violetta didn’t come with us.

  I gave them a look, but Violetta only smiled and waved me on. “We already know,” she assured me. “Go on.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for a queen to feel dismissed, but there it was.

  It had been a while since I had gone to Serafina’s room. Well, since I’d had time to, anyway. Last time I’d gone in there, it had been an homage to Frozen like nothing Pinterest could have imagined. And now…

  Well, now it was Frozen meets the produce market.

  Strung up like banners across the walls of her room were pages and pages of drawings of various fruits and vegetables, obviously not drawn to scale, but labeled with names and the date.

  It took me a second to figure out why in the world Serafina would suddenly have an interest in produce, but when she pulled me over to the first drawing, a blueberry, and the date, it came to me.

  “You’ve drawn the baby’s size,” I said out loud, gaping.

  She nodded happily, squeezing my hand. “I go in order. Look!” She pointed at the one next to it, a raspberry, drawn almost exactly a week later. Then there was a green olive, a prune, a lime, a plum… and on and on it went, all around the room. She’d hung up string and had used clothespins to hang each picture, which somehow made the whole thing even cuter.

  “Some of them were hard,” Serafina commented with a wrinkle of her nose. “I didn’t even know what a rutabaga was, I had to ask Rafe, and he didn’t know.” She shook her head as if the idea of Rafe not knowing something was unbelievable. “Then when I figured out what it was, I didn’t know what color it was…” She looked up at me with a timid air, as if she were apologizing for not know how to draw a rutabaga.

  I squeezed her hand tightly. “That’s okay. I don’t even know what it is.” I pointed at her picture. “Maybe it really is purple on one side.”

  She beamed and chattered on about the drawings, none of which, apparently, were the first draft. She had slaved over these, and even I could see the detail she had put in. The mango really did have the tint and shape of one, the lettuce actually had distinct leaves and layers, and the pineapple really had the grooves and edges of one.

  I was no judge of art, but for a nine year old, this was beyond impressive.

  She pulled me to the most recent picture, drawn last week by the date; a pumpkin, with all of the lines and grooves, and perfectly round. “See? Remember when I asked you how big the baby was?”

  I nodded, my throat suddenly closed up and my eyes burning. “I remember,” I managed to squeak. “Why did you do all of this, sweetie?”

  She shrugged, my emotions going completely unnoticed. “I wanted to know how big the baby was. I couldn’t see it until you started getting big, so I drew it. And then it was fun, so I kept going.” She looked up at me with a wide grin, displaying her most recent tooth loss. “How big is the baby now?”

  I laughed and almost told her it was an elephant, but that didn’t seem fair. I was the elephant, not the baby. “A watermelon,” I said with a smile.

  “Yes!” she whispered loudly. “That’s an easy one. Not like a durian.” She shook her head in disgust. “Who thought of these things, anyway?”

  “Someone with too much time on their hands,” came Nico’s voice from the door.

  Serafina and I turned and she frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “Nico! No boys allowed!”

  He grinned and came into the room with an easy stride, kissing my cheek when he reached us. “I’m just here to check on Kat, sorellina, don’t fuss.”

  “I never fuss,” Serafina grumbled, ducking his attempt at a hug and going over to her art supplies.

  Nico smiled and put his arm around me, glancing at the room. “So she’s finally showing you, huh?”

  I pulled back a little to stare at his handsome face. “You knew?”

  He shrugged. “She’s been telling everybody, and asking us what things were and how to draw them. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out.”

  “I’ve been a little preoccupied,” I muttered with a frown, looking at the pictures again.

  He pulled me in close and kissed my hair. “Yes, you have, bella. How was the interview this morning?”

  I rolled my eyes and told him about Mr. Baumann and his terrible choice in facial hair, and the questions he’d asked.

  Nico chuckled a little and steered me from the room, glancing over his shoulder at Serafina, now hard at work on her next drawing. “Well, people will stop commenting on Eva soon enough. Then they won’t care that she came first and they will only want pictures of them both.”

  “I can’t wait,” I murmured, rubbing my blatant roundness fondly.

  Nico pulled me in front of him and wrapped his arms around me, touching and stroking my belly on his own. “Neither can I,” he said against my ear. “It could be any day now.”

  I leaned back against him with a sigh. “It could be never, at this point. I’ll be surprised if we ring in the New Year with a baby.”

  He laughed softly and tilted my face back to kiss me slowly on the lips. “Don’t fuss,” he whispered, just as he’d said to his sister.

  I smiled up at him. “I never fuss.”

  Then a now-familiar tightness in my stomach roared to life, stealing my breath and making me tense up with a sharp hiss.

  “Kat?” Nico said with concern, pulling back to look me over.

  I shook my head and patted his chest. “Braxt
on-Hicks,” I said through clenched teeth. “Again.”

  He stepped out from behind me and took my arms, stooping a bit to look me in the eye. “Are you sure?”

  I forced a smile and exhaled. “Yep. Third one this week. It’s not as bad as the last one.”

  “It’s Tuesday.”

  “Pretty sure there isn’t a schedule here.” The pain started ebbing back and I shook my head. “Blegh. Now you’re going to make me go lay down and wait on me hand and foot, aren’t you?”

  His grin was fast and took my breath away almost as much as the pain had. “I’d like to, but first, I think we should do something else.”

  That sounded suspicious. “Oh yeah?” I asked, surprised. “What did you have in mind?”

  His hands started rubbing the tops of my arms where he held them. “How would you feel about being wrapped up in blankets and taking a carriage ride through the city? It shouldn’t be crowded, it’s the middle of the day, and you’ve not been able to see much of the Christmas decorations or the preparations for the winter carnival.” He leaned in and touched his nose to mine. “And I know a certain royal who would love nothing more than to be very, very close to you for a while.”

  I smirked and lifted a brow. “I didn’t know Rafe liked me that much. This could get awkward.”

  Nico growled and kissed me with a fierceness that made various parts of me clench up in a very non-Braxton-Hicks way. He devoured me with an efficiency that seemed impossible, and with a thoroughness that would have been shameful if I wasn’t so deliriously pleased by it. Every brush of his hands and graze of his lips had me twisting and coiling inside and just when I thought my ovaries would actually explode, he broke off and rasped, “Not Rafe.”

  Not Rafe what?

  I didn’t think talking about Rafe after a kiss like that was appropriate, but my brain was currently trying to think sideways, so I only nodded and echoed, “Not Rafe.”

  That seemed to amuse Nico, and he kissed me, very, very softly, once more. “Go change into something warmer, bella. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”