35
" Ding!
Princess Alpacca, pronounced like the animal, first in line to the throne of Alieya Island, a small nation below the south of France. The Queen invited her to Wessco after an attempted coup forced her family into exile last year. She doesn’t speak English and I don’t know a word of Aliesh. This is going to be a challenge.
Guermo, her translator, glares at me like I’m the bubonic plague in human form—with a mixture of hatred, disgust, and just a touch of fear.
She speaks in Aliesh, looking at me.
And Guermo translates. “She says she thinks you are very ugly.”
Princess Alpacca nods vigorously.
She’s pretty in a cute kind of way. Wild curly hair, round hazel eyes, a tiny bulbous nose, and full cheeks.
“She says she doesn’t like you or your stupid country,” Guermo informs me.
Another nod and a blank but eager smile.
“She says she would rather throw herself off the rocks to her death in the waves and be devoured by the fish than be your queen.”
I look him in the face. “She barely said anything.”
He shrugs. “She says it with her eyes. I know these things. If you weren’t so stupid you would know too.”
More nodding.
“Fantastic.”
She says something to Guermo in Aliesh, then he says something back—harshly and disapproving. And now, they’re arguing.
But they can stay.
Guermo is obviously in love with Alpacca and she clearly has no idea. My presence will force him to admit his feelings . . . but does she return his infatuation? It’ll be like living in a Latin soap opera—dramatic, passionate, and over the top. I have to see how it ends.
Ding! "
― Emma Chase , Royally Matched (Royally, #2)
36
" The light on the bedside table next to Sarah brightens. “I’m awake now. I’m going to read for a bit, if it doesn’t bother you.”
“Wuthering Heights?” I yawn.
“Yes. Sleep well, Henry.”
And something about the way she says my name this time—the sweetness of her voice—makes me smile. Until . . .
“Hmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmmmm, hmm, hmm . . .”
And I’m once again staring at the ceiling. “What is that sound?”
“What? Oh, that’s me—sorry—I hum when I read.” The bed shakes as she shrugs. “Habit.”
“Well for Christ’s sake, don’t.”
I’m being an arse. When she doesn’t reply for a few seconds, I start to worry I’ve upset her. It’s not Sarah’s fault I’m tired—and horny. So horny. She doesn’t deserve to have her head ripped off.
But before I can apologize, she says, “And here I thought you were the type who’d enjoy a good hummer.”
And for a moment I’m stunned. And then I laugh, turning on my side, facing her. “Was that a joke, Sarah Titty-teet-butt-um?”
“It was supposed to be, yes.”
“And it was a dirty joke. I’m impressed. I’ll have to completely reevaluate my impression of you.”
She covers her lovely mouth with her hands. “They slip out from time to time "
― Emma Chase , Royally Matched (Royally, #2)
40
" They will eat him alive. On his current course, Henry will fail spectacularly.”
My chest constricts so tight it feels like my bones may crack.
Because she’s right.
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” she swipes back.
“I damn well do! I never would have abdicated otherwise.”
“What?”
“Don’t mistake me—I wouldn’t have married anyone but Olivia, and I would’ve waited a lifetime if I had to, until the laws were changed. But I didn’t because I knew in my heart and soul that Henry will not just be a good king, he will be better than I ever could’ve been.”
For a moment I don’t breathe. I can’t. The shock of my brother’s words has knocked the air right out of my lungs.
Granny’s too, if her whisper is any indication.
“You truly believe that?”
“Absolutely. And, frankly, I’m disheartened that you don’t.”
“Henry has never been one to rise to the occasion,” she states plainly.
“He’s never needed to,” my brother insists. “He’s never been asked—not once in his whole life. Until now. And he will not only rise to the occasion . . . he will soar beyond it.”
The Queen’s voice is hushed, like she’s in prayer.
“I want to believe that. More than I can say. Lend me a bit of your faith, Nicholas. Why are you so certain?”
Nicholas’s voice is rough, tight with emotion.
“Because . . . he’s just like Mum.”
My eyes close when the words reach my ears. Burning and wet. There’s no greater compliment—not to me—not ever.
But, Christ, look at me . . . it’s not even close to true.
“He’s exactly like her. That way she had of knowing just what a person needed—whether it was strength or guidance, kindness or comfort or joy—and effortlessly giving it to them. The way people used to gravitate to her . . . at parties, the whole room would shift when she walked in . . . because everyone wanted to be nearer to her. She had a light, a talent, a gift—it doesn’t matter what it’s called—all that matters is that Henry has it too. He doesn’t see it in himself, but I do. I always have.”
There’s a moment of quiet and I imagine Nicholas leaning in closer to the Queen.
“The people would have followed me or Dad for the same reason they follow you—because we are dependable, solid. They trust our judgment; they know we would never let them down. But they will follow Henry because they love him. They’ll see in him their son, brother, best friend, and even if he mucks it up now, they will stick with him because they will want him to succeed. I would have been respected and admired, but Grandmother . . . he will be beloved. And if I have learned anything since the day Olivia came into my life, it’s that more than reasoning or duty, honor or tradition . . . love is stronger. "
― Emma Chase , Royally Matched (Royally, #2)
