“Good.”
“How’s my makeup?” she asks, making me laugh.
“Perfect. What setting spray do you use?” I ask.
“A professional grade lacquer.”
“Nice.”
“All right,” she says. “Let’s go see this amazing portrait. I hope he gave you three nipples and one eye.”
“Bite your tongue, you brat,” I laugh and followher out of the ladies’ room.
“Whatever, nothing could make you ugly,” she says with a soft smile just for me.
I love this girl. I never had siblings or much of a family before, and here I am with a sister I adore and a husband I’m finding I no longer want to live without.
When we make our way back to the group who is waiting patiently for the most part, I say to the kind director, “Thank you for your patience. Please lead us on, if you will.”
“I’m so sorry,” he replies. “I wasn’t thinking… only that he was such a wonderful king, as is your husband, and we all miss him.”
“It is lovely to know that he was so loved,” I tell him. “But a daughter will always miss her papa, am I right?”
“Of course.”
I hear a muffled but indignant, “Harrmph,” from the back of the crowd and narrow my eyes at the vice admiral.
“You disagree?” I ask him after I hang back to poke at him a bit. I know that I should let sleeping dogs lay, but I find that I cannot let him continue to pick on Dahlia.
“I wouldn’t know anything about daughters missing their fathers,” he says coolly.
“Well, one day, maybe you’ll have a daughter and it will all make sense,” I reply.
“Yes, one day,” he agrees.
I want to push him to ask what he means but we stop at the next wall where there’s a curtain with a gold pull covering a frame hanging on the wall.
“And here we are,” the director says. Several members of the press are waiting behind a velvet rope to watch me pull the chord and see if Dahlia was right and that I have three nipples. The thought makes me smile in earnest. “Now, we’ll have you stand here and pull the chord when you’re ready, your majesty.”
“Thank you,” I reply as I move over to the far side.
“Smile, your majesty!” someone shouts and I turn to give them a winning picture opportunity and hope I don’t have the face of a mass murderer. Anything is possible. It’s not like I know what I’m doing anyway.
“Well, are you ready?” I ask them. “I am.”
“Yes!” they call out and I pull the gold chord. The velvet curtain falls, revealing a painting of me in my wedding dress and I feel my breath catch in my chest because this woman I’ve never seen before. She’s stunning, absolutely beautiful. She looks away from the painter at something that she likes and there’s a beautiful… almost hopeful look about her. Like she’s just had all of her dreams come true.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it,” the director says.
“Well, I guess no extra nipples,” Dahlia mutters as I pose for my picture with the portrait and my smile is genuine. That’s the picture thatall the papers will run with in the morning with the caption“Queen loves stunning portrait.”
Unfortunately, by then, I’ll be too busy watching my back to notice.
It was nice while it lasted.
Chapter 7