the necklace?" Emma reminded her to stay on track.
Chloe really wanted to enjoy her new surroundings, not make up games. She decided to give her royal privileges a test run. "Start wearing one."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Boy, that was easy.
"In the meantime, I'll touch the neck of my blouse if I think you're about to blunder." In a matter of minutes, Emma indicated an open doorway, through which voices floated out into the hall. "Do you remember what to do? What to say?"
Chloe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes."
I hope.
Emma patted her hair and said, "Yes," then fingered her neckline and said, "No."
"Gotcha."
Emma sighed audibly.
"Don't worry. It's just the two of us."
"It's most imperative, Your Highness, not to ever think it's just the two of us."
Chloe stepped into the king's bedchamber and struggled to keep her mouth from gaping open at the pure luxury of it. It was so large—larger than her entire apartment in Santa Barbara—and so rich with hunter green silk draping the windows, covering the walls and swathing the bedposts, that it made the king—her father —appear quite small and pale. White-haired and gaunt, he reclined in his bed, his back and shoulders propped up by a mound of velvet pillows, royal purple with golden tassels at each corner.
"Father," she said. She crossed the room quickly to his bedside and held out her hands.
He wheezed and coughed for a moment, then took her hands in his cold grasp. "Moira...you have grown into a lovely woman. You—" Another cough and wheeze. "You look like your mother when she was your age." His pale face lit up in a smile.
"Father, I had no idea you were so ill."
King Albert waved away her distress.
"You could have come sooner," sniped a voice from the comer.
Chloe turned and saw a lean, bearded man. He looked so much like Moira, she had no doubt this was her brother, Prince Louis. The one who was supposed to spend so much time out of the country and cause her no trouble.
"Then you would have seen for yourself how much you were needed here," Louis said.
"Hello, Louis." How old had he been when Moira had left? Ten? "You've grown quite tall."
He stepped forward, looking at her closely as he advanced. "I had given up on requesting your presence for Father."
Chloe didn't know what to say. Neither Moira nor Emma had mentioned more than the recent request that had prompted their switch. Had Moira lied by omission? Or had someone not told Moira that she was needed here?
"I must nap now, Moira," King Albert said. "But first, I waited because I have good news." He wheezed, caught his breath and glanced at William. "Perhaps I shall wait until later. You must be tired from your journey."
"His Majesty took good care of me."
"Yes, I knew he would." He coughed again. "Let me rest now."
"Yes, Father."
"We will talk soon."
Chloe patted the old man's hand. His skin was thin and dry as paper. His eyes drifted closed, and he looked at peace.
Her brother, however, tossed her a hostile glare that made her want to crawl under the bed.
Chapter Four
"Emma," Chloe said softly as they adjourned to the passageway outside her father's bedroom, "I need a tour of the castle ASAP. The room I had as a child, my favorite places, that sort of thing."
"Yes, Your Highness, I was thinking the very same thing."
She tried to wiggle her toes to uncramp them and remembered why she preferred her old boots. "Right after I get out of these heels. How did she wear them for hours at a time?"
"She did not walk alongside limousines." Even with Emma's dry tone, it sounded like a compliment. "Now, bid King William goodbye, and we will begin."
Chloe turned toward the three men exiting her father's suite. She pointedly ignored her brother's glare and concentrated instead on a very relieved-looking William. "Your Majesty—"
"Your father looks better today," he said positively. "I think he is quite pleased to have you home again."
She'd thought King Albert looked like
Chloe really wanted to enjoy her new surroundings, not make up games. She decided to give her royal privileges a test run. "Start wearing one."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Boy, that was easy.
"In the meantime, I'll touch the neck of my blouse if I think you're about to blunder." In a matter of minutes, Emma indicated an open doorway, through which voices floated out into the hall. "Do you remember what to do? What to say?"
Chloe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes."
I hope.
Emma patted her hair and said, "Yes," then fingered her neckline and said, "No."
"Gotcha."
Emma sighed audibly.
"Don't worry. It's just the two of us."
"It's most imperative, Your Highness, not to ever think it's just the two of us."
Chloe stepped into the king's bedchamber and struggled to keep her mouth from gaping open at the pure luxury of it. It was so large—larger than her entire apartment in Santa Barbara—and so rich with hunter green silk draping the windows, covering the walls and swathing the bedposts, that it made the king—her father —appear quite small and pale. White-haired and gaunt, he reclined in his bed, his back and shoulders propped up by a mound of velvet pillows, royal purple with golden tassels at each corner.
"Father," she said. She crossed the room quickly to his bedside and held out her hands.
He wheezed and coughed for a moment, then took her hands in his cold grasp. "Moira...you have grown into a lovely woman. You—" Another cough and wheeze. "You look like your mother when she was your age." His pale face lit up in a smile.
"Father, I had no idea you were so ill."
King Albert waved away her distress.
"You could have come sooner," sniped a voice from the comer.
Chloe turned and saw a lean, bearded man. He looked so much like Moira, she had no doubt this was her brother, Prince Louis. The one who was supposed to spend so much time out of the country and cause her no trouble.
"Then you would have seen for yourself how much you were needed here," Louis said.
"Hello, Louis." How old had he been when Moira had left? Ten? "You've grown quite tall."
He stepped forward, looking at her closely as he advanced. "I had given up on requesting your presence for Father."
Chloe didn't know what to say. Neither Moira nor Emma had mentioned more than the recent request that had prompted their switch. Had Moira lied by omission? Or had someone not told Moira that she was needed here?
"I must nap now, Moira," King Albert said. "But first, I waited because I have good news." He wheezed, caught his breath and glanced at William. "Perhaps I shall wait until later. You must be tired from your journey."
"His Majesty took good care of me."
"Yes, I knew he would." He coughed again. "Let me rest now."
"Yes, Father."
"We will talk soon."
Chloe patted the old man's hand. His skin was thin and dry as paper. His eyes drifted closed, and he looked at peace.
Her brother, however, tossed her a hostile glare that made her want to crawl under the bed.
Chapter Four
"Emma," Chloe said softly as they adjourned to the passageway outside her father's bedroom, "I need a tour of the castle ASAP. The room I had as a child, my favorite places, that sort of thing."
"Yes, Your Highness, I was thinking the very same thing."
She tried to wiggle her toes to uncramp them and remembered why she preferred her old boots. "Right after I get out of these heels. How did she wear them for hours at a time?"
"She did not walk alongside limousines." Even with Emma's dry tone, it sounded like a compliment. "Now, bid King William goodbye, and we will begin."
Chloe turned toward the three men exiting her father's suite. She pointedly ignored her brother's glare and concentrated instead on a very relieved-looking William. "Your Majesty—"
"Your father looks better today," he said positively. "I think he is quite pleased to have you home again."
She'd thought King Albert looked like
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