Alexander took another deep, long breath before he responded, “I honestly don't know, son. I honestly don't know.”
* * *
For the first time since the plane landed, Paris allowed herself to be truly taken in by her surroundings. Never in her life had she seen anything like what was in front of her, not in real life anyway. Maybe in fairy tales. The road leading away from the gate was long, surrounded on both sides by huge, moss-covered trees that canopied over top of the perfectly cobblestoned roadway. In between each tree was a huge, flowering bush, covered in tiny purple blossoms. Even with the windows closed, the smell of flowers surrounded Paris, filling her senses and leaving her swooning. She almost forgot where she was for a second when the road and the trees opened up, revealing a home that took her breath away.
But calling it a “home” was too diminutive a term. It was a palace, a castle, so much more than even a mansion. Hundreds of windows, dozens of towers, a castle set in stone with perfect grey thatched roofs jumping up into the sunset like so many skyscrapers in Manhattan.
The palace was set on acres of perfect manicured emerald green lawn, and surrounded on three sides by a beautiful and pristine lake. The sky above was filled with purple and pink clouds, masking a slowly setting sun, and all of it gave Paris the feel of being in a movie. For the briefest of seconds, she forgot that she was a prisoner.
For a moment, she let her heart swell with the majesty of the sight before her. But just an instant later, that feeling was gone. It disappeared when she saw a stunningly elegant woman, standing in front of the castle door, staring at the limo with fire in her eyes.
* * *
Catriona stood on the front steps of the palace, impatiently waiting for Dennis, the driver, to let the young woman out of the car. She was trying to hide her frustration with her son, knowing that there was little chance any of this was the girl's fault. But she'd never been good at hiding her feelings, despite years of classes with a media consultant, and had often alienated herself to rude heads of state and their haughty wives.
She'd barely spoken two words to Penelope since their first meeting twenty-five years earlier, when she'd been unable to hide her giggles at a particularly ridiculous hat Penelope had insisted on wearing. But she didn't want Paris to feel overwhelmed.
Finally, Dennis opened the back door to the limo and motioned for Paris to get out of the car. Cat was taken aback when she finally got a good look at the woman who had driven her son to forget his place. She was dark-skinned and beautiful, with a sweet face, curvy figure, and big, lovely deep brown eyes which were framed by a riotous mane of black curls, and highlighted by dimpled cheeks, much like Catriona's own. If her son had been looking for Whitney's polar opposite, he'd most certainly found her.
In spite of herself, Cat found herself enchanted by the young woman almost immediately. She took a deep breath, and walked down the steps toward Paris, who seemed to be frozen in place, unable to move.
“Paris, welcome to our home. I'm deeply sorry it is under these circumstances. I am Queen Catriona Lennox of Dalvana, but I insist you call me Cat. Do you mind if I call you Paris?”
Cat reached out her hands and took one of Paris' shaking hands in her own. Paris knew she was staring at the Queen like a fool, but she couldn't believe how beautiful the woman was. She looked nothing like Alex; tall, thin, and blonde, with the sparkling blue eyes of an ice sculpture, so clear they were almost white.
Paris felt equal parts intimidated and in love, as if she had known Catriona for her entire life. Cat was as pale as an ice princess, but her hands were warm and calming around Paris'. Paris felt a stutter in her voice when she finally spoke.
“Paris is fine. Queen... Catri... Cat... I'm so, so sorry. I don’t know what I should say—do—I don’t—”
And with that, Paris broke down in sobs, unable to control the tears that poured from her eyes like a waterfall that had been held back for years, finally finding its freedom. Cat gathered Paris in her arms, holding her so tight against her chest that Paris could hear her beating heart. Cat gently patted down Paris' hair as she cried, and whispered in her ear, “Hush now, little one. Everything will be fine. Whatever happened, however bad it seems, we'll sort it out. Don't worry. Please don't worry.”
* * *
Alex paced nervously up and down the length of his room. Mathias was flopped down on Alex's bed, enjoying both the sight of his brother being a mess for once, as well as how much he looked like their father when he was stressed out. Joseph chomped lazily on an apple as he lounged across a chair in the corner, surreptitiously texting Genevieve, and trying to convince her he wasn't responsible for canceling their date.
After an hour, Mathias' neck was starting to get sore from watching Alex pace, so he finally spoke up. “Dude, can you sit down? You're making me nervous, and you're giving me a neck spasm.”
Alex stopped in his tracks and grumbled.
“Why isn't she here yet? She should be here by now. It doesn't take that long to get here from the damn airport.”
Joseph threw his finished apple core directly at Alex's head.
“She could be here already. Dennis would have brought her around the front of the house. It's not like we'd hear the car pull up from this side of the palace.”
Alex scowled at his brother, but he was right. Most people had no idea that the family only lived in a small corner of the Lennox Chateau, and rarely ventured to any other parts of the palace unless they had to. In fact, there were still parts of the family “home” that the boys hadn't even seen and which had been closed off for centuries.
Sometimes, they would explore when they were kids, feeling like rebels, but all they'd ever find were more empty ballrooms, more paintings of family they didn't recognize, and more dusty furniture, so it didn't take long for the rebelliousness to lose its charm. Eventually, Joseph stuck to the stables, Mathias would spend hours running the grounds, and Alex could always be found in his father's library with his nose in a book.
Alex was just about pick up the apple and throw it back at Joseph when the phone in his bedroom rang. Alex practically tripped over his own feet to get to it before it stopped ringing. When he answered, he sounded more breathless than was probably appropriate given how close to the phone he actually was.
“Yes? Hello? Paris?”
Alex felt his whole body slump when he heard his father's voice, stern, annoyed, and yet somehow totally void of affect.
“Miss Martell is here, Alexander, but you won't be speaking to her right away. She is with your mother in the guest quarters of the house, and there she will remain until we can be sure that no one knows she is here. You, and your brothers, will stay put until dinner, and then you may join us in the dining room. Celia is going to tend to Miss Martell for the time being. I am going to
say this once, and only once. You are not to go chasing after her. Do you understand me? You stay with your brothers, and when you are not with your brothers, you are with your mother and me. Have I made myself clear?”
Alex scowled even further, drawing himself straight until his shoulders were practically in line with his hips. He refrained from saying what he really wanted to say. One did not contradict a King, after all—even if the King happened to be his father.
“Yes, sir.”
Mathias and Joseph both looked up, shocked. They were often on the receiving end of a stern lecture from their father, but it was rare that Alex was the one forced into the position of misbehaving child. When Alex hung up the phone and turned around to face his startled brothers, he was barely able to hide the flashing anger in his eyes. Joseph, ever the clown, was the first to speak up, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“So... fancy a hand of poker?”
21
Paris sat on a huge, plush white wing chair in what she assumed was the Queen's office, and she watched enthralled as Cat fielded dozens of phone calls, calm and cool like a seasoned professional, and dozens of servants flurried about.
“Oh, Stephan, don't be silly. An old family friend...”
“Liza, that's nonsense. We've known her family for years...”
“Olivier, don't be crude. They ran into each other in Paris and it had been years...”
Paris couldn't help but wonder how much the Lennox family actually knew about her own. There was zero real-world chance that the Martells of Nowheresville, USA had even once come across a single soul remotely descended from the Lennox line of Dalvana.
But now, as Paris sat there, watching Cat breeze across the room like an angel in a white silk pantsuit, she began to realize how much she'd missed out on. There was little doubt that her mother would likely be Catriona's polar opposite in every way, but it left Paris with that strange pang of longing she felt every so often, the pain that came from not really having any roots to put down anywhere. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice that Cat had sat down in the chair beside her.