I squatted enough for her to get the strand around my neck and fasten it. “The prime minister left these for His Majesty. They are a specialty from the Bostique Islands, and this seems like the perfect occasion for them. Let me see.”
I turned to face her.
“Stunning. Just like a princess.” She smiled.
I clutched at the necklace. I was afraid of the word. Suddenly afraid of the woman I saw in the mirror. Because I was thinking the same thing. I looked like a princess. And that terrified me.
The sun blazed overhead as we walked through the grove. Damon listened as the farmers explained the growing process of the olive trees. I walked next to him, but was careful to hang back a few inches. I realized I was his date, but it felt more natural to let him lead.
I wasn’t in a position to offer him advice or even interject questions to the farmers. I started to realize there were times when I wasn’t going to be an equal. And if I dated the king, that was going to be showcased in public.
I observed the interaction with new interest. He leaned in, listening intently to the thick Spanish accent. Damon easily moved back and forth between the languages.
Ayla was also in our caravan. But she was in a group that waited for us by the cars. Once we stepped into the grove, I was on my own. I had to hope I didn’t screw up some kind of royal rule. I also had to try not to melt in the hot sun and ruin my beautiful dress. It was hard to walk in heels and navigate the rocky terrain.
Damon offered his hand when we reached a root patch. I thought I heard a camera snap when I took his palm.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He grinned, but began asking more questions about the water levels in the area. The farmers argued over how much rainfall they had in the past two weeks. I maneuvered over the next set of rocks successfully.
; I think I was too confident. Feeling graceful and lithe like I was Isabel. I didn’t keep my eyes down when I should have watched every step. My toe hit a root and I tumbled forward.
I shrieked just as Damon wrapped a hand around my waist, snatching me toward him before I could hit the ground.
There was no mistaking the sound of cameras now. My eyes widened.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He set me upright, allowing me a second to find my balance. “I’m so sorry.” The press corps was going crazy.
“As long as you’re all right, Molly.”
“I am.”
He threaded his fingers through mine. “Maybe I should keep a tighter hold. Just in case.” He squeezed my hand and I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning.
“Thank you.”
We walked for another hour. I stayed by Damon’s side, taking in every part of the discussion. I had no idea there was so much detail in growing olives. I had clearly taken them for granted.
We rejoined the caravan.
Ayla greeted me at the giant SUV that we traveled in from the airport. “You may enter the car,” she whispered. “His Majesty will take a few photos and wave at the crowd. Alone,” she added.
“Ok.” I climbed into the vehicle. I was grateful to have her there. The idea that I needed a royal manager was seeming less and less ridiculous. There was so much I didn’t know.
I watched through the window as Damon signed autographs and posed for pictures with the farmers. There were groups of children in the crowd. It seemed as if everyone from the local villages had gathered for the event.
Ayla sat in the front seat. She turned around, handing me a cold bottle of water.
“Thank you.” I was thirsty. I didn’t know how royals managed to always appear cool and dry in the heat.
“How did it go? Did anything happen I should know about?”