Page 153 of Royally Not Ready
“Not for a while. I’m an outsider coming in, so I can’t be their favorite.”
“You’re also saving this country from falling under the reign of another country, so I don’t think they care where you’re from, as long as you have Strom blood.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Ah, Lilija, there you are,” Queen Katla says from the other side of the hall. “I’m sure you’ve had a busy day so far, but would you mind joining me for some tea sandwiches and fresh fruit in my stateroom? I’d love to have a chance to speak with you on a more personal level.”
“Of course,” I say as I look up at Keller. “That would be fine, right?”
He smiles. “Of course. We’re finished with this portion of our tour. Does the kitchen staff know of your dining arrangements, or shall I inform them for you?”
“They’re aware. Thank you, Keller.” Queen Katla comes up to me and loops her arm through mine. “Right this way, my dear.”
Weathered but beautiful, Queen Katla is not the typical grandma I would’ve envisioned. You know, white hair with a short perm, possibly some Alfred Dunner clothes decorated with birdhouses and styled in a dusty blue. That’s not Katla at all. She’s dignified. Refined, with her thick, salt-and-pepper locks that are styled in a blowout and pinned back with a jewel clip. Her makeup is light and very subtle, but her bright eyes are highlighted with mascara, her cheeks are pinched with blush, and her lipstick is pristinely painted across her lips. Her style reflects what Emily Gilmore would wear on a random Tuesday—comfortable, but rich.
And she smells divine.
“Thank you for allowing me to steal you away for lunch. I know Keller has you on a tight schedule, but I wanted to speak with you.”
“Of course. I’m here for whoever needs me.”
We walk up a flight of stairs to the right, where large, stately doors part as we approach. Queen Katla walks me right through the doors, and then the footmen close them behind us, the sound of birds chirping outside the window the only noise filtering through the vast room.
Decorated in a beautiful light blue, her stateroom is like all the others in the palace. Sweeping, curtained windows offer soft contrast to the high ceilings, which are decorated with intricate, gold design work. Cream carpet runs the length of the room, with soft, cream-colored furniture dotted throughout. A fireplace sits to the left, and the mantlepiece is adorned with picture frames of who I can only assume are her children.My aunt and uncles.
“This room is gorgeous,” I say.
“Thank you.” She gestures for me to take a seat in one of her chairs lined up with a round side table, which is decked out with tea sandwiches, fresh fruit, and finger desserts.
Well, don’t mind if I do.
But being the civilized, classy person that I’ve become, I wait for her to offer me food before I start poking my finger into the pink petit fours. I hope they’re strawberry flavored.
“Would you like some iced tea?” she asks as she lifts a pitcher.
“That would be lovely,” I say, feeling as though I’m in some out-of-body experience where I’ve turned into a posh elitist who says things like “that would be lovely.”
Normal response before would’ve possibly been something like...I’m dying of fucking thirst, so yes, please.
I’ve evolved.
Once the drinks are poured, Katla hands me a small plate and says, “Help yourself.”
Now, these finger sandwiches look amazing. And they have my name written all over them, but I need to take my time, place two on my plate, add some fruit, and then back away.
“I know you must be wondering why I brought you here.”
Not really, kind of glad, because, WOW, this pumpernickel thing with cucumber is amazing.
“I’m aware Keller gave you some history of what happened between your mum, Margret, and myself.”
I swallow and say, “Yes, he did. Was that okay?”
“Yes,” she answers. “Keller has always been honest, and I know that’s something that he probably needed to tell you in the moment, and I honor that. I just... well, I wanted to see how you felt about it, how you felt about me. And I know that sounds self-indulgent, but I want you to know that letting Margret drift away is the biggest regret of my life.”
So, this is a heavy lunch... okay.
I set my plate on the table and wipe my fingers on my napkin.
