H.R.H. by Danielle Steel

her father slowly up the stairs afterward. They had just reached the door to her apartment when one of the prince's aides came looking for him. He looked as though it was urgent, and Prince Hans Josef turned to him with a frown, waiting to hear what it was.
    “Your Highness, we just got a report of a terrorist attack in Russia. It appears to be a very serious hostage situation, similar to the one in Beslan several years ago. It appears to be almost an exact duplicate, in fact. I thought you might like to watch it on CNN. Several of the hostages have already been killed, all children.” The prince hurried into Christianna's living room, and turned on the television set. All three of them sat down to watch in silence. What they saw was horrendous— children who had been shot and were bleeding, others being carried out of the building, dead. Nearly a thousand children had been taken hostage, and over two hundred adults. The terrorists had taken over a school, and wanted political prisoners released in exchange for the children. The army had surrounded the place, and there seemed to be chaos everywhere, with crying parents outside, waiting for news of their children. The prince watched the broadcast unhappily, and Christianna stared in horror. It was a grisly scene. They sat watching for two hours, and then the prince got up to go to bed. His assistant had long since left.
    “What a terrible thing,” her father said sympathetically. “All those poor parents waiting for their children. I can't imagine a worse nightmare,” he said, as he hugged her.
    “Neither can I,” Christianna said quietly, still wearing the white chiffon gown and silver sandals. She had cried several times as she watched, and her father had been moved to tears as well. “I feel so useless sitting here, all dressed up and unable to help them,” she said, as though she felt guilty, and he hugged her again.
    “There's nothing anyone can do, until they get the children out of there. It'll be a bloodbath if the army forces their way in.” The thought of that was even more upsetting, and Christianna dabbed at her eyes again. The terrorists had killed dozens of children. There were already a total of a hundred fatalities by the time they turned off the TV. “This is the worst situation I've seen since Beslan.” They kissed each other goodnight, and Christianna went to undress and put on her nightgown. A little while later, already in bed, she felt compelled to turn on the television again. By then the situation had gotten worse, and more children had been killed. Parents were frantic, the press was everywhere, and soldiers were milling in groups, waiting to be told what to do. It was mesmerizing watching it, and horrifying. It was easy to guess that many more lives would be lost as the night progressed.
    In the end, she lay awake all night and watched it, and by morning she had dark circles under her eyes, from the many times she'd cried, and lack of sleep. She finally got up, took a bath and dressed, and found her father having breakfast in his office. She was wearing a heavy sweater and jeans when she walked in. She had made a number of phone calls, before she went to look for him. And when she found him, he looked every bit as distressed as she did. By then the death toll had doubled, almost all of them children. As half the world did, her father had the TV on, and had been watching when she came in. His food was virtually untouched. Who could eat?
    “Where are you going at this hour, all dressed?” he asked, looking distracted. Liechtenstein had no official role to play here, but watching the tragedy unfold was leaving everyone feeling frantic and upset. This was no made-for-television movie. This was all too real.
    “I want to go there, Papa,” Christianna said quietly, with eyes that bored deep into his.
    “We have no official involvement or position on this situation,” he explained to her. “We're a neutral country, we have no reason to