She holds the ring between her fingers and nods.
“I won’t lose it. Not ever.”
I place my hands on her shoulders.
“Your great-grandfather plucked this pearl from the bottom of the ocean with his very own hands and he gave it to me, and now I am giving it to you. So that you will remember something for me.”
“What should I remember?”
“When it comes time for you to marry, you must choose a good, arrogant man.”
“Arrogant?”
“Yes. A man who is so confident in himself and who loves you so completely, he’ll be perfectly happy to stand in your shadow . . . to watch you shine. Never settle for anything less.”
Jane’s round eyes look up into mine, with a solemnity beyond her years.
“I’ll remember, Great-Granny.”
“I know you will.” I kiss her cheek softly. “Off you go now.”
And she walks back to her siblings, her back straight and head high, like she’s already wearing a crown.
I sigh—relieved that my task has been completed but even more fatigued.
“Escort me to my rooms, m’boys. It’s time for my afternoon respite.”
Yes, these days the Queen naps. The very indignity.
With my arms looped in each of theirs, we walk silently back to the palace.
When we reach the door to my rooms I ask them softly, “Do you remember what I told you at your grandfather’s graveside?”
“You told us you loved us with your whole heart,” Nicholas says, his voice rough.
“And if you never said it again,” Henry continues, “that we should know it was true, now and always.”
I nod gently, tears of deepest affection rising in my eyes.
“It’s still true. Now and always.”
I move toward the door.
“Grandmother, wait,” Nicholas implores.
They are men now, honorable and admirable and fully grown, with children of their own. But when I turn back to them, they appear as their younger selves. At that tender age when they needed me, so very much.
“Yes?”
Nicholas envelops me in a hug, his broad arms holding me to his chest, warm and tender.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “For all you’ve . . . I love you, Grandmother.”
A tear leaks from my eye. Because he didn’t need to say the words, but I still cherish hearing them.
When Nicholas pulls back, Henry takes his place, embracing me with a sweet fierceness—the way final affections are always bestowed.
“I love you, Granny.”
When Henry steps back, I place a palm on each of their cheeks.
“I know, my boys. I’ve always known; never doubt that.”
My throat tightens, but it is with the weight of my happiness and my pride.
“Watching you both find your loves and make your beautiful families has been my greatest joy. I know you’ll be all right without me. . . and that’s all I ever truly wanted.”
I reach up and press a kiss to each of their cheeks.
And then I lift my head and give them the assuring nod they need right now.
“It’s all going to be all right—you’ll see. I promise.”
With a final tender look, I leave them. Walking through the door and closing it softly behind me.
(Ten years before Royally Raised)
“When our bodies are dust in the ground and our souls are joined in whatever life comes after this one, the legend of our story and echo of our love will live on forever.”
~Prince Edward, Royally Yours
Lenora
THREE DAYS AFTER MY CONVERSATION with Nicholas and Henry in the garden, I retire to my rooms for my hour-long daily rest. “A power nap,” the young people call it, though that moniker makes it no less embarrassing.
But I’ve resigned myself to the task, as it does help me complete my afternoon and evening schedule with an alert mind. My maid is supposed to wake me each day, but this day is different . . . because it is not she who stirs me.
I’m pulled from sleep by the touch of warm, familiar skin. The sensations of a fingertip running softly along my brow, dragging down the bridge of my nose, and reverently tracing the shape of my lips.
And a voice. A deep, beautiful, teasing voice.
“It’s time to wake up now, Lenny.”
Slowly, my eyes blink open. Everything seems hazy and disorienting at first—the way it is when one is roused from the depths of a dream.
A moment later, I blink my eyes again, to clear my vision, so I can be sure that what I’m seeing is not an illusion or a figment of my imagination.
Because he’s here, gazing down at me with the same emerald eyes and magnetic smile that he wore the very first time he looked at me.
Edward.
My Edward.
His hair is thick and golden and falls over his forehead in that delightfully rakish way.
“Edward?”
His smile grows broader and injects my soul with a joyous, keening desire that I’d almost forgot was possible.
“Hello, love.”
Edward takes a step back from the bed and I lift my head from the pillow. I immediately notice that I feel different. There is no ache in my joints, no creaking of my bones like an old door on a rusty hinge—not anymore. And there’s no pain. The bodily soreness that is the constant companion of advanced age is gone.