Royally Not Ready(111)
He smiles. “Of course. We’re finished with this portion of our tour. Does the kitchen staff know of your dining arrangements, or shall I inform them for you?”
“They’re aware. Thank you, Keller.” Queen Katla comes up to me and loops her arm through mine. “Right this way, my dear.”
Weathered but beautiful, Queen Katla is not the typical grandma I would’ve envisioned. You know, white hair with a short perm, possibly some Alfred Dunner clothes decorated with birdhouses and styled in a dusty blue. That’s not Katla at all. She’s dignified. Refined, with her thick, salt-and-pepper locks that are styled in a blowout and pinned back with a jewel clip. Her makeup is light and very subtle, but her bright eyes are highlighted with mascara, her cheeks are pinched with blush, and her lipstick is pristinely painted across her lips. Her style reflects what Emily Gilmore would wear on a random Tuesday—comfortable, but rich.
And she smells divine.
“Thank you for allowing me to steal you away for lunch. I know Keller has you on a tight schedule, but I wanted to speak with you.”
“Of course. I’m here for whoever needs me.”
We walk up a flight of stairs to the right, where large, stately doors part as we approach. Queen Katla walks me right through the doors, and then the footmen close them behind us, the sound of birds chirping outside the window the only noise filtering through the vast room.
Decorated in a beautiful light blue, her stateroom is like all the others in the palace. Sweeping, curtained windows offer soft contrast to the high ceilings, which are decorated with intricate, gold design work. Cream carpet runs the length of the room, with soft, cream-colored furniture dotted throughout. A fireplace sits to the left, and the mantlepiece is adorned with picture frames of who I can only assume are her children. My aunt and uncles.
“This room is gorgeous,” I say.
“Thank you.” She gestures for me to take a seat in one of her chairs lined up with a round side table, which is decked out with tea sandwiches, fresh fruit, and finger desserts.
Well, don’t mind if I do.
But being the civilized, classy person that I’ve become, I wait for her to offer me food before I start poking my finger into the pink petit fours. I hope they’re strawberry flavored.
“Would you like some iced tea?” she asks as she lifts a pitcher.
“That would be lovely,” I say, feeling as though I’m in some out-of-body experience where I’ve turned into a posh elitist who says things like “that would be lovely.”
Normal response before would’ve possibly been something like . . . I’m dying of fucking thirst, so yes, please.
I’ve evolved.
Once the drinks are poured, Katla hands me a small plate and says, “Help yourself.”
Now, these finger sandwiches look amazing. And they have my name written all over them, but I need to take my time, place two on my plate, add some fruit, and then back away.
“I know you must be wondering why I brought you here.”
Not really, kind of glad, because, WOW, this pumpernickel thing with cucumber is amazing.
“I’m aware Keller gave you some history of what happened between your mum, Margret, and myself.”
I swallow and say, “Yes, he did. Was that okay?”
“Yes,” she answers. “Keller has always been honest, and I know that’s something that he probably needed to tell you in the moment, and I honor that. I just . . . well, I wanted to see how you felt about it, how you felt about me. And I know that sounds self-indulgent, but I want you to know that letting Margret drift away is the biggest regret of my life.”
So, this is a heavy lunch . . . okay.
I set my plate on the table and wipe my fingers on my napkin.
“That’s not self-indulgent. I think I’d wonder the same thing if I were in your shoes. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, anything,” she says.
“Were you close with my mom before she left?”
She nods. “I was. We’d spend many summers in the courtyard garden, embroidering together over a fare like this one.”
“Did you know she wanted to leave?”
“I did, and although it worried me, I knew that it was truly what her heart desired. However, after Pala left to be with Clinton, I was destroyed. I spent all this time grooming Pala, teaching her the ways of a queen, having a gentle heart and a lifting soul, and then she fell in love.” She shakes her head. “I know what it means to fall in love, and from the looks of it, so do you.” I give her a brief smile and she continues. “And I’m not mad at her for falling in love. She has a beautiful life with her husband and three children, but I was scared because I barely saw her, and I didn’t want to lose Margret as well.” She lets out a pained sigh. “I handled everything so poorly. I took what I was feeling toward Pala and tried to trap Margret. I think we all know if you attempt to tame a mustang, they’ll run.”
“Why didn’t you ever reach out like King Theo?”
“Pride. Embarrassment. Hurt. I thought that if I ignored the situation that maybe she’d come back, maybe come to her senses and find home again. But the more I waited, the more she created her own home.” Katla lifts a napkin to her eye. “I feel such shame over it all, and when Theo said he sent Keller to find you, well, it felt like this sprig of hope blossomed in my stomach. But I didn’t want to let that hope turn into something more. That’s why I wasn’t on the calls with you and Keller. I knew if I saw you, I would break down and beg you to see us. Theo was very adamant about you making your own decision.”