Page 89 of Royally Rivalled

“Look, it’s term break. You have ten essays left, by the looks of it. Wrap that up, think about it, and talk to your sister. Deep breaths, Astrid,” Parker said.

“I shouldn’t sit here and ugly cry,” I said.

“You shouldn’t cry over this. It’s a good thing. Be proud of yourself, Astrid. I am,” Parker said.

My heart swelled. I wanted to tell him I loved him. Instead, I squeezed his knee under the table. Parker looked around before leaning in to give me a quick forehead kiss—the thing he knew made me weak. I loved him for it.

forty-nine

PARKER

I grewup in a beautiful country house but was unprepared for the grandeur of the Neandian royal palace. We arrived early that morning, having taken a flight at the asscrack of dawn where Astrid slept practically on top of me, but I got no sleep. She could sleep on any moving form of transportation, but I could barely rest.

A man met us at the door and took our bags. A footman would spirit them away properly, I was confident. We were told the Queen hosted us for breakfast in the family dining room. Astrid took my hand and showed me around. Like any good aristocratic house, portraits of illustrious family members crowded the walls—the more, the better. No thought was given to spacing—just put them on the wall. That was what American television and period dramas got wrong.

The ceilings were so high and the curtains so massive that even I felt half my size standing next to them. The palace faced a public square, currently set up with a festive Christmas market. It was a pretty, if not sleepy little city.

Astrid finally led me to the family dining room, where we wereannounced. Her sister and brother-in-law stood to greet us. I politely bowed to them while Astrid ran screaming over to her older sister. Astrid nearly took Alexandra out, but they managed to stay up. Tears filled their eyes as they hugged tightly. I couldn’t imagine feeling the same for my sisters.

“Apologies. They’re fucking nuts, Your Grace. Just wait until the little girls wake up,” the Prince Consort said.

“Please, just call me Parker, Your Royal Highness.”

He extended his hand. “Then call me Rick.”

To my surprise, he had an American accent—a strong one at that. I hadn’t noticed him at Buckingham Palace since I had not spoken with him.

I accepted his firm handshake. “Will do. Do they always do this?”

“Always, yes.”

I chuckled. “Well, at least everyone gets along.”

As I said it, Astrid came over, nearly tackling Rick.

“Jesus! Astrid, can you calm down?”

She giggled. “Someone needs to bother you now. Miss me?”

“Depends, Asti.”

“Ah, you did, Prickard!”

I was appalled by their exchange before I realised that this was just their rapport. He was like her older brother.

“Get the fuck out of here, Astrid! I’ve enjoyed my peace.”

She laughed.

“Your Grace, help yourself to food. Astrid will,” Alexandra said.

“Your Majesty, please just?—”

“Lex, call him Parker. He insists,” Rick said.

“Well, then call me Alexandra.”

“There is tea at the end,” Alexandra said. “Asti told us what type you take.”

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