As Ms. Chancellor goes to work on his tie, he shifts his gaze to me.
“You, too, Gracie. I almost didn’t recognize you with the dirt washed off. No casts?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Good.” He eyes my dress. “So how many people had to force you into that thing?”
“Just her. But she’s stronger than she looks.”
Ms. Chancellor pulls his tie tight. He grunts.
“Tell me about it,” Grandpa says.
“I’ll have you know, William, that Grace is very excited to be taking part in her first official function.”
“Her first!” Grandpa sounds almost nostalgic. He turns and looks out the tinted window at the scene that is rolling by. Ancient buildings and cobblestone streets. Bicyclists and fruit stands. As we climb higher and higher toward the city center, we can glimpse more and more of the sea.
“My first came six months after I got here. There I was, fresh off the boat, just a junior State Department employee at the time, and I was told to go to the palace. The king’s father was on the throne then. He was a big man, powerful. World-class polo player, they said, but if you ask me, so few people play polo, how hard could it be to be world-class, really?” Grandpa considers this for a moment and then talks on.
“Anyway, the president was supposed to visit that day, but something came up at the last minute and he needed to cancel. And instead of calling on the king himself, the ambassador at the time sends me, hat in hand, up to the palace to make our apologies.”
Grandpa laughs a little at the memory. I try to imagine him as a young man, insecure and frightened, but the mental picture simply doesn’t fit. I can’t see him as anything but a senior statesman.
“So the palace officials put me in an elevator and take me down to the basement. I thought I was going to an office or a study or something — probably to see an aide. But no. It was the pool. Hot springs run underneath the whole city, you see. And there is the king himself, climbing out of the water. Naked as the day he was born. Ha!” Grandpa slaps his leg. Ms. Chancellor demurely covers her smirking lips. “Then His Royal Highness proceeds to stand there stark naked through the whole talk. Lots of bowing and apologizing on my end. And then the king — the naked king — says, ‘Oh well. I guess I have time to get back in. Why don’t you join me?’”
“What did you do?” I ask.
“What could I do? I joined him!”
“So you took a bath with the king of Adria?”
“I did indeed, Gracie. I did indeed.” He gives a very mischievous grin. “So just keep that dress on tonight and you’ll be ahead of me.”
“I promise I’ll try.”
Those are the words that are still in the air when the limo slows and turns through the palace gates. When a uniformed man opens the limo’s door, I glance down at the red carpet that runs to the palace’s massive doors. Grandpa exits the car first and offers his arm to me.
“You ready, Gracie?” he asks with a wink.
I smile and look up at the white-haired man who, to me, is little more than a stranger.
“Absolutely,” I lie.
CHAPTER TEN
“Ambassador William Vincent of the United States of America!”
The small man has a huge voice. It booms through the ballroom, over the low din of chatter and the faint sound of the string quartet playing in the distance. He wears a red jacket with military medals I don’t recognize, a rank and regiment I don’t know.
Grandpa and I have been standing in line for ten minutes. I’ve already lost the feeling in both of my big toes. But now that we’ve been announced, I’m expected to walk. And smile. I can see Noah on the far side of the room. When I catch his eye, he gives me a low, exaggerated curtsy just like Ms. Chancellor made me practice.
I want to laugh, but it’s not funny. Falling flat on your face in front of seven hundred people rarely is.
Slowly, Grandpa and I make our way down the very long receiving line. Shaking hands. Repeating names. Smiling. It feels like my jaw might fall off. I wish my lips were as numb as my toes.
“Your grandmother used to do this with me, Gracie,” Grandpa whispers while we’re waiting to be introduced to the royal family. “And after your grandmother passed, your mother took this walk with me every year.”
“I know,” I say as we ease slowly down the line.
“No matter where your father took her, she always came back and held my arm for this night.”
“I know,” I say again.
“What I’m trying to say is that it’s nice to, once again, have the woman in my life by my side.”
He means it. I can tell. And for one second I forget about the women in tiaras, the crowds that are watching the procession. I’m looking only at the old man with the white hair. For the first time in Adria, I don’t feel entirely alone.
“Your Royal Highness.”
It takes a moment for me to realize that my grandfather is no longer speaking to me — that he isn’t making a joke, mocking me and my princess-cut gown. But then I see her and I forget everything I was thinking.
Her dark hair is pulled back in an elegant pile of curls that are topped by a diamond tiara. Her dress, I note, is not a princess cut, but I don’t stop to comment on the irony. I’m too busy staring at the woman in front of me, wondering if she might be the most beautiful person that I have ever seen.
When my grandfather bows, I remember to curtsy. I lower my eyes and my head. My job in this moment is simple: Don’t fall down. I’m doing pretty well, but I know better than to get cocky.
Then the princess reaches out and takes both of my grandfather’s hands in hers.
“I’m still not used to hearing you call me that, Mr. Ambassador,” the princess says.
Grandpa laughs — actually laughs — and tells her, “It would have been a strange thing to yell when I was telling you girls to stop sliding down the banister.”
Then the princess laughs, too. My grandfather takes her gloved hand and kisses it. And the moment is so strange — so surreal — that I almost forget what I already technically know: that Princess Ann wasn’t always the wife of the future king of Adria. Once upon a time she was just a regular girl in Valancia. And she was my mother’s best friend.
Then Grandpa seems to remember I’m beside him. “Your Royal Highness, may I present my granddaughter, Grace?”