Page 79 of Royally Rivalled

She beamed. “Okay, sure, fine, whatever, Your Grace. I guess you’re right.”

forty-four

ASTRID

You could tella lot about someone based on their demeanour in an introduction. My evil grandmother, Celeste, taught me this in childhood. The woman may have been the devil incarnate, but she knew how to read and manipulate people. I learned a thing or two watching her lay out the rules of social warfare.

When Parker and I arrived at the restaurant for his meeting over tea, the look on his mother’s face began as glee, then anger. I couldn’t understand. I was about as eligible as one got. Combined, we were a dynamite team on paper but remained a bit of a mess and not excellent at expressing our genuine emotions outside a post-coital context. We were good at communication while fucking but lacked that ability while clothed, but she didn’t know that.What was her issue?

“Parker, who have you brought with you?” A girl in a royal blue dress asked.

I employed rule one of Celeste’s approaches to destroying adversaries. One should always observe appearances. I assumed the tall girl in the dark royal blue dress was his sister, Carolyn. What my family lacked in height, he made up for. Parker had an uncannyresemblance to this girl. She was his very feminised form—sporting the same eyes and nose.

“Sorry, everyone. This is my girlfriend, Astrid,” Parker said.

No title. No nothing. That wassolike Parker. I was annoyed, wanting to play up the princess angle and dunk on his mother.

“Parker, give her the respect she deserves. Carolyn, this is Princess Astrid of Neandia—Queen Alexandra’s sister. Your Royal Highness, so pleased to speak to you in a more intimate setting,” Parker’s mother crowed.

“Enchanté,” I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you properly, Lady Westfall.”

I turned to the younger of the Westfall women. Her mouth gaped most unattractively as she stared, confused. Carolyn’s fiancé, whose name I did not know, elbowed her. He was a rather round man, only about her height, and had no discernible chin. I suspected he was very wealthy and hopefully kind.

“Yes. I’m Parker’s oldest sister. Our baby sister, Ashleigh, is not here today. She’s in rehearsals.”

“For the Royal Academy of Ballet,” I said.

I’d done my homework. I was a bloody sponge. And if this wasmythesis defence, I was about to pass with flying colours.

Again, Celeste taught me everything I needed to excel. Rule Two—always listen and ask questions. With more context, making friends was easier. The observance was thoughtful. I aligned with people. I learned their foibles, hopes, dreams, and weaknesses to exploit later.

“Well, it is so nice to meet you,” I said.

“I’m Fred. Fred Wilmington, Your Royal Highness.” The fiancé gave a little bow.

“Well, Parker said that. Congrats to you both. I am so excited to hear it!”

Rule three—always be gracious. No one disputed your motives if you were kind to a fault. It was what had made Celeste so difficult to topple. She acted as though she was our greatest advocate rather than our jail-keep.

We sat for tea.

“Just waiting for the planner to arrive,” Lady Westfall said. “Parker, why didn’t you mention Her Royal Highness was your girlfriend? He did mention a girlfriend, but I was certain he was making it up to silence me.”

Parker set his jaw. “Mother, why would I make her up?”

“It seemed convenient. Why hide her?”

“I didn’t. You cannot hide Astrid,” Parker said warmly. “You know I like to keep private matters private. And no one in the department knows. We’re colleagues. I want to keep it discreet for her benefit. Free her from any accusations of favouritism.”

I struggled with that, but I knew it was for the best. When I heard people like Bianca or Jeremy gossip about academics misbehaving, it was always about who fucked who and who shagged their way “to the top.” Grad students had a knack for being judgmental, almost exclusively to younger female students. Although Parker wasn’t faculty, he was revered—my more senior colleague. It made things awkward—especially as we’d just been hired to teach together again in the spring semester.

“Well, don’t hide her. She’s pretty. Makes you appear normal.”

The similarities between his monster of a mother and my evil grandmother became clear. As Celeste always spent most of her energy breaking Alexandra down to exert control of her, Lady Westfall did the same to Parker—heir turned Duke. While Alexandra became Queen at the tender age of fourteen, Grand-Mama maintained control into her early eighties. I saw Parker’s mother pursuing the same strategy. She refused to give up.

“You’re right,” I said. “Parker isn’t normal. He’s exceptional.”

Parker stared, confused, but he’d thank me later. It was a genuine compliment laced with a barb. I’d been masterful, but it was the truth.

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