was just full of children who needed love.
Her status as future queen changed all that. She would not be allowed to adopt, and would in fact be expected to bear a child herself—after she married some stuffy aristocrat. The thought of a loveless marriage “for the good of the country” repulsed her.
“So you really don’t know the king?” Nick asked.
“I saw him once in my life before this current visit, when I was a small child. I barely remember it. It’s a sore point with my mother—the fact that Easton didn’t do something to help her sort things out after my father died, at a time when she needed him most. But I guess he had his own grief to deal with.” She paused. “He’s grieving now, too. It’s been little more than a year since Uncle Byrum died in that terrible jeep explosion.”
Nick grimaced. “A terrible thing for Korosol, given what Byrum’s death means in terms of succession. I can’t think of a man less fit to rule than your cousin.”
Nick was referring to Byrum’s son, Prince Markus, the apparent heir to the throne since his father’s death, though Amelia knew better. For whatever reason, King Easton did not favor Markus. Since an ancient charter allowed the Korosol king to choose his own successor, Easton intended to do just that.
It would be something of a scandal when he announced that Prince Markus would not succeed him on the throne. Neither would Easton appoint his youngest son, James, a thrice-married Wyoming wildcatter who had proved himself most unsuitable for the throne, not to mention unwilling.
Amelia sighed. “In thinking about the country, though, it’s easy to lose sight of the human aspect. The king has lost two of his three sons now. That’s the saddest thing, I think, to lose a child.”
Nick’s face hardened almost imperceptibly. Had she said something wrong? She’d been rattling on, probably because of nerves. Maybe he just didn’t like prattling women.
The double doors on the far end of the room whispered open, halting all conversation. Eleanor Standish, Nick’s younger sister, appeared. Though Amelia didn’t know the king’s secretary well, because Ellie had been in America only a few weeks, the two women got along well. Ellie had pitched in to help with CeCe’s spur-of-the-moment wedding, proving herself efficient and flexible, not to mention sensitive to CeCe’s feelings. Everyone who met her, liked her. However, her frumpy clothes and thick glasses made her look more like a schoolmarm than a trusted member of the royal inner circle.
She certainly didn’t remind Amelia of Nick in any way, and Amelia had been shocked a couple of weeks ago when she’d learned the two were siblings. Sometimes it amazed her how truly small Korosol was.
Eleanor and Nick embraced warmly, and the children both ran up with kisses and hugs in abundance for their aunt Ellie. Amelia felt a moment of jealousy that Josie hadn’t shown her similar affection.
Ellie studied Nick for a moment. “Nicky. You look very…very civilized.”
Nick raised one eyebrow in question. “I don’t think I’m being complimented.”
“Of course you are,” Ellie argued. “I’ve never seen you in a suit, that’s all.”
“You’ve seen me in a dress uniform,” Nick pointed out. “That’s not much different.”
A dress uniform? So Nick had been in the official Korosol military, then. That surprised Amelia. Ellie had said something about her parents disapproving of her brother. Amelia had this impression that Nick had always been a drifter, offering his unique skills to whoever could afford his price. But she supposed he would have had to acquire those skills somewhere.
Nick lowered his voice. “So, how’s the wind blowing?”
“With the king?” Ellie thought for a moment. “Hard to say. He wasn’t pleased with the quality of his sweet roll this morning. But if anything can cheer him up, these two can. His Majesty loves children. He’ll see you now. I should warn you he has another engagement in fifteen minutes, so you’ll have to talk fast.”
Fifteen minutes. Could they convince the king in such a short time how important it was to keep these children with Nick? How could Easton possibly understand the conditions in Palemeir, the unbelievable risks Nick had taken to honor his promise to Josie and Jakob’s mother?
EASTON CARRADIGNE, king of Korosol, threw a handful of pills into his mouth and washed them down with a swallow of bitter coffee just as the door opened to his temporary office and Eleanor entered. She gave him a little curtsy, which she did every time she saw him no matter how many times he told her such an archaic practice was unnecessary. Secretly, though, he enjoyed the gesture of respect.
“Her Highness, Princess Amelia,” Eleanor announced. “And Nicholas Standish. Oh, and Josie and Jakob Standish, too.”
Easton couldn’t believe it. They’d brought the children with them? Did they think he was some doddering, softhearted old man who could be swayed by a couple of moppets?
Well, okay, they were sort of cute, especially the little girl, who moved with such grace and quiet. The little boy, hardly more than a toddler, entered the room like a small hurricane.
“Don’t touch that,” Easton and Eleanor said together when Jakob tried to peer into the top of a sixteenth-century vase. Nicholas immediately corralled the boy before any harm could be done, and the four of them stood before Easton, waiting for him to acknowledge them. He should have come out from behind his desk to shake their hands, maybe give the little ones some candy, and kiss his granddaughter, the future queen, on the cheek. But he was more tired than usual today. All this business with Amelia’s secret, illegal marriage bandied about in the press had worn him out. Especially coming on the heels of CeCe’s very public scandal. He hoped Amelia’s predicament could be resolved as quickly as CeCe’s was.
“You can be seated,” Easton said as he took his own chair—a huge, thronelike thing. Ellie had chosen it for him, and he heartily approved. He relished the pomp and circumstance surrounding his station, even more so these days. Funny how one took so many things for granted until one was about to lose them.
Nicholas and Amelia sat in the wingback chairs that faced Easton’s desk. The little boy crawled into Nicholas’s lap, while Eleanor fetched a small slipper chair for the girl—what was her name? He’d already forgotten. Was memory loss one of his expected symptoms? Or was he just getting old? Some would say that at age seventy-eight he’d already been old for some time.
Eleanor withdrew, and Nicholas launched right into his statement, which sounded very well rehearsed.
“Your Majesty, I believe my sister, Eleanor, briefed you on the situation here. Princess Amelia and I took on the responsibility of these two children from Palemeir at the request of their dying mother. We married so that I could adopt the children and take them out of Palemeir, where they would be safe.”
“What about all the other children?” Easton wanted to know. “Don’t get me wrong, I applaud your compassion. Taking on the responsibility for war orphans shows extraordinary generosity. But why these two? You must encounter orphans all the time in your line of work.”
“These two were particularly at risk because their father was an American,” Amelia explained. “As you know, anti-American sentiments run strong in Palemeir right now. Besides, Nick was with their mother when she died, and he promised to take care of them. He just didn’t realize that would mean adopting them—but he is a man of his word.”
Easton noticed Nicholas and Amelia exchange a glance. Nicholas ought to be grateful a member of the royal family was pleading his case. But he didn’t look particularly grateful. In fact, Easton felt a distinct tension between these two.
“I’m not here to debate Mr. Standish’s character,” Easton said. “I only want to know the answer to one question. I’ve asked it before, of Amelia, but she was decidedly unforthcoming. Perhaps you can shed some light on the matter, Nicholas. The Ministry of Family charges that your marriage was a sham from the beginning, that you never intended to