Читать книгу The Royal Treatment - MaryJanice Davidson - Страница 18

From The Queen of the Edge of the World, by Edmund Dante III, © 2089, Harper Zebra and Schuster Publications.

As one can imagine (and if one has been paying close attention to this tome), the king was as overjoyed at the news of the crown prince’s engagement as Edmund Dante was appalled.

Princess lessons were to begin at once, designers and planners were commissioned, and a date was set for five months hence…April the second. Normally that would be a shockingly short time for a royal engagement, but the general consensus seemed to be to “get it done” before the bride-to-be could change her mind and flee the country.

But first, Edmund Dante was to try one last time to talk the feisty commoner out of her wedding. It is difficult to tell if he did it for his own sake, the country’s, or the future queen’s.

And Queen Christina’s reaction to this attempt gives historians another tantalizing glimpse into what drove this foreigner of uncommon strength to take a crown.

“Miss Krabbe…”

“Call me Christina. Or Chris. Anything but Tina…yech. My mom hates her name her whole life, and what does she do? Slaps it on the end of my name. Nice!”

“Miss Christina, are you sure you have considered this very carefully?”

“And by that he means, congratulations,” the king said, glaring at Edmund from his seat.

Edmund forced a smile, which disappeared as quickly as it formed. “You haven’t been in the country a week, you barely know His Highness, and frankly…ah…frankly…”

“I’m not the princess type?” She tucked her legs beneath her and grinned at him. “Tell someone who doesn’t know.”

“Edmund…”

They were in one of the sitting rooms, and the king had called for beer to celebrate the announcement of their engagement. He’d downed two in rapid succession and apparent relief. Christina had taken a sip, masterfully concealed a shudder, and handed her glass to David.

“Your Majesty, please. It must be said. And it appears to have fallen to me.”

“Who says?” the king whined. “You’re gonna queer the deal, and then I’ll be forced to break both your legs.”

“A lively ending,” the prince commented, “to an unparalleled career.”

“It isn’t fair,” Edmund said quietly. “Look to the House of Windsor if you don’t believe me. She must be warned.”

“Fine, fine, but get it out of the way. And don’t bug her, for Christ’s sake.”

“Too late,” Christina sang. David, in the act of sitting down beside her, barked surprised laughter and fell to the sofa with a thump.

Edmund turned back to Christina. He towered over her like a tree dressed in fine linen. His hands were clasped—clenched—behind his back. “I—we, rather, wish to be sure you know what you’re getting into. It’s not all palace living and cocktail sauce.”

“It’s not?”

“As a member of the royal family, not only will the eyes of the world—”

“Not to mention People magazine.”

“—be on you, but you’ll have heavy responsibilities. Also—”

“Also,” she interrupted yet again, “my children will never have to worry about their next meal. They’ll never have to pay taxes, they’ll never have to worry about how to afford to send their kids to college. They’ll always have the option of a solid roof over their heads, and three squares a day. There will always be people around to look after them and protect them. They’ll never, never be alone. And if they see something wrong, they’ll have the power to fix it.”

Dead silence.

“That about right?”

“Yes.” David nodded, studying her intently. “That is exactly right. All that, and more. And all that goes for your children’s children, and your children’s children’s children.”

“Well. All right, then.” She smiled, and instantly felt like she’d jettisoned ten pounds of stress. Maybe twenty. “If there’s nothing else, Edmund, let’s get this show on the road.”