Page 57 of Royal Player
He puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me from the room, down the hall, and upstairs. We’re going to his room, and I don’t care if Marge notices I’m not in my room. Every rule I’ve lived by, every constraint is suddenly gone, but I can’t enjoy it because it’s gone for the most horrific reason.
~ ~ ~
One week later…
Oscar
I let her go. It just about killed me, but I did it. She’s on her way to Beaumont for whatever awaits her there.
The day after the hurricane, we had the welcome news that her parents are alive, which means the monarchy still stands. It also means I can’t join her on Beaumont until she says it’s the right time. I’m happy for her to have her family. I just wish I could be part of things. We saw them on the news. Her parents went out on the lookout point at the top of a stone tower of the palace and waved at the plane flying overhead gathering aerial footage. Her father looks ancient with thinning white curly hair. Her mother looks much younger with straight shoulder-length dark brown hair. The palace sustained only minor damage. It looks like a fortress of stone.
The news showed most of the damage to the northwestern end of the main island, with destroyed resorts, restaurants, and homes. The center of the island fared a little better with more roof damage than anything else, along with flooding. Much of the vegetation is gone from those areas. Uprooted trees and downed telephone poles block the roads.
Yesterday we got the news that the airport runway was clear. That meant relief efforts could get in, and it also meant Polly could go home. She left this morning on our private jet with Marge and Vaughn. I worked by her side this week coordinating fundraising efforts for Beaumont, drawing on every connection her kingdom and mine have. My brother Phillip helped with a UN connection to get humanitarian aid; we got an international relief organization to step up, as well as the Red Cross. Our kingdom’s charitable organization and Polly’s contributed too.
Cell phone service has been restored on Beaumont, along with sixty percent of their power. That’s all I know. I won’t relax until I hear she’s made it safely back to the palace. There are still many people without power or water and, one week post hurricane, the grocery stores are running low on food. There’s a fine line between civilization and savagery when people are desperate. And Polly represents an untouchable aristocratic ideal they may not appreciate under the circumstances. She assured me her people love her. I don’t doubt that, but I don’t have such a rosy view of human nature. Take away food, water, and shelter, and it’s a free-for-all. She has a guard, but one man against a mob is useless. If I had my way, an army would carry her back to the palace.
As much as I need her in my life, they need her more. I just hope they appreciate her vibrant spirit and let her be the leader she was meant to be on her own. I can’t be held accountable for my actions if I hear she’s pressured to marry that sleazy man. All I know is that will happen over my dead body.
~ ~ ~
Polly
I was as prepared as I could be to see the devastation on Beaumont after poring over pictures on the internet and watching the news, but driving along the southeastern road to the palace, looking at the stark landscape—damaged beachside hotels, the complete loss of vegetation and trees, destroyed restaurants and homes—it physically pains me. I cross my arms, hugging myself. I know we’re fortunate. It could’ve been worse. My parents are alive. Most of our resorts on the southeastern side are salvageable with some renovation, and there are sections of the island that are untouched—the sewage treatment plant, the schools, the hospital—but there’s just so much that’s ruined. It doesn’t look like the Beaumont I know and love.
The car pulls up to the palace entrance, and my parents are waiting for me in the courtyard.
“Polly!” my mother exclaims and rushes toward me, arms open.
My throat clogs with emotion, and I run into her arms. She squeezes me tight. “Maman!” I cry. “I’m so glad you and Papa are okay.”
She pulls back, stroking my hair and studying me. “The palace has withstood worse. It’s been reinforced many times. You look different. What is it?”
I’m in love. I’m no longer a virgin. I dream of a different future. I don’t say any of that because I know I have to pick my moment. “I had a great visit with Anna on Villroy. The Rourkes are a wonderful family and a valuable alliance for us.”
“Yes,” she says slowly, her head tilting to the side as she searches my features, her brow crinkled. “We appreciated their contribution.” She turns and smiles at my father. “Come. Your father has been anxious for your return.”
I cross to him, bow my head and curtsy. “It’s good to see you, Papa.”
He’s not a hugger. I wait as he lifts a shaky arm to place a hand on my head. “I’m glad you’re home. We have much to discuss.” There’s a tremor in his voice now too. His Parkinson’s disease is definitely worse.
“Let her settle in first,” my mother says.
She goes to greet Marge and Vaughn. She and Marge have a quiet conversation, my mother glancing at me with an alarmed look. I tense. I told Marge that I would broach the topic of Oscar at the first opportunity, but it seems she’s shared something already. My mother nods at Marge and gestures for her and Vaughn to go inside.
My mother links her arm in mine. “It was a long journey, was it not? You should rest.”
“Yes, but I’m fine. I want to do all I can to help.”
“We’ve been in touch with Peter,” my mother says.
“Mmm, good man,” my father says.
I grind my teeth. I’m not even inside the palace door and they’re shoving my intended in my face. “Oh, really?”
“Yes,” my mother says. “He’s eager to see you. He must’ve missed you, Polly.”
The words burst out of me. “Or he just wants to profit from the only resorts left on the island—ours.”
