“Thank you, Nicholas,” Henry says. “I think she gets the picture.”
Nicholas smacks his brother on the back and grins cheekily.
“Happy to help.”
Henry slips his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels, telling Sarah, “I could say the same thing, you know. You don’t think I know you’d be better off with someone whose everyday life doesn’t send you reeling into a panic attack?”
Sarah shakes her head. “No, that’s not true. I could never be better off with anyone else. I would never want to be. You’re mine, Henry, and I’m keeping you.”
They’d be disgusting to watch if they weren’t so damn sincere.
Sarah fidgets with the diamond engagement ring on her finger. “I’m just afraid that I’ll humiliate myself. That I’ll embarrass all of you.”
And Prince Nicholas is back. “You still don’t get it. There’s nothing you could do—literally nothing—that Henry hasn’t already done to embarrass us.” He shrugs. “We’re immortal; we’re immune.”
Henry looks at his brother. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
Nicholas’s green eyes practically dance. “I am, I know. I should try and stop, but I just can’t.”
“Okay, look,” Ellie says, moving aside the heavy crimson curtain and pointing out the window towards the balcony. “Do you see that potted plant in the corner, there? If you have to hurl, Sarah, do it there. Then, Liv will block you with her amazing, ever-expanding stomach—and no one will notice.”
“Or, most likely,” Olivia lifts the hem of her long, flowy polka-dotted skirt and moves closer to Ellie and Sarah, “I’ll be throwing up right along with you. Whoever called it morning sickness didn’t know their ass from their elbow because it ravages me all day long. They’ll probably call us the Puking Princesses in the press . . . but it’s got a catchy ring to it, so it could be worse.”
Sarah laughs along with them, looking less like the color of a dead oyster.
The Queen breezes into the room, wearing a beige skirt and matching jacket with a large ruby broach on the lapel. Her tall, blond personal secretary, Christopher, is behind her, clipboard in hand. And everything stops. The men in the room, myself included, bow and the ladies curtsy, as is required on the first occasion of the day when one encounters Her Majesty.
Ellie bends her knees and sinks down gracefully, lowering her head. Good girl. It upset her that she’d mucked up her first impression with Her Majesty at Nicholas and Olivia’s wedding. Some of the staff still talk about it—the legend of the tiny blonde who tackled the Queen.
“Are we ready?” the Queen asks no one in particular.
Henry steps forward. “Your Majesty, Sarah is—”
“Going to try her best,” Sarah finishes for him.
Henry gives her a questioning look, but Lady Sarah nods reassuringly. “I want to try. It will be all right.”
“Of course it will be all right,” the Queen agrees, as if by declaring it, circumstances wouldn’t dare to contradict her. “There’s no need to worry—no one will be looking at you. It will be as if the rest of us aren’t even there. They’ll all be examining Olivia’s bump.”
“The public interest is ferocious,” Christopher explains. “There are office pools around the city, wagering how much weight Duchess Olivia has put on each week.”
Olivia looks down at her growing belly. “Great.”
“Pay no attention to that, my dear.” The Queen moves in front of her, smiling with approval. “You look wonderful. Very healthy. I’m thrilled for you.” She smiles at Nicholas too. “Both of you.”
“Thank you, Queen Lenora.” Olivia takes her husband’s hand. “We couldn’t be happier.”
“Although,” the Queen goes on, “your due date is terribly close to Henry and Sarah’s wedding day. It’s important to spread these events out, you know. To maximize the positive coverage.”
Olivia rubs her stomach. “I’ll do my best.”
The Queen pats her forearm. “I know you will.”
“And in the future,” Nicholas adds, “we’ll be sure to keep the marital relations on a schedule more to Your Majesty’s liking.”
He’s being sarcastic. But either Queen Lenora doesn’t pick up on it or she’s giving it right back to him. Peas in a fucking pod, those two.
“That would be appreciated.” She nods. “Now, shall we?”
The Queen takes a few steps towards the balcony, stops and turns around—noticing Ellie for the first time. One thin eyebrow rises as Her Majesty walks a circle around the lass, checking her out from all angles.