Joan Pickart - Royal Weddings

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“Mom, please look at this logically. There’s no way I can be in any danger, because I am a threat to no one. I’m a kindergarten teacher from Sacramento and I’m going for a visit, that’s all. In three weeks, I’ll be back home where I belong.”

Ingrid made a scoffing sound. “You aren’t listening. You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said.”

“Yes, I am listening. I do understand.”

“Elli, he gave me his word , all those years ago. He kept my sons to bring up as kings. And I got you girls. It was a vow, between us—that neither would ever try to reclaim what was lost. And you know how highly a Gullandrian holds his vow. But what’s happening now?” Her voice gained power—and volume. “Our sons are dead. And he wants his daughters. His vow is nothing. He’s a liar and a cheat.”

Elli could see Hauk. He stood very still, in profile to them, presumably looking out over the side yard. He had heard every word, of course. And he revered her father. Elli had the sense that if anyone else but his king’s runaway queen had dared to utter such slanders against the ruler he served, Hauk would have been on them and it would not have been pretty.

Her mother had more to say. “Osrik and his Grand Counselor, Greyfell, have been plotting. I know it. I can feel it in my bones. Something more than a father-and-daughter reunion is up here. Something political. Something to do with who will end up on the throne. And you are the pawn at the heart of his game. That’s why he wants you, why he’s taking you away.”

“It’s a visit , Mom. Nobody said anything about taking me away.” Well, actually, they had . Hauk, after all, had started out to kidnap her. But no way Elli was going into that part of the story—especially not now, with her mother looking so desperate and wild-eyed.

Ingrid let out a cry. “Oh, my God. What about Brit and Liv? Is he after them, too?”

“No. Absolutely not. He hasn’t contacted them.” Ingrid glared down at her. “How do you know?”

“He told me so.”

Her mother made that scoffing sound again. “And you believe him?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then you are stone-blind.” Ingrid gestured at the phone on the side table a few feet away. “Give me that.”

“Mom—”

“Give me the phone.”

With a long sigh, Elli rose and got the phone and handed it to her mother.

Ingrid punched a number from autodial and pressed the phone to her ear. After a minute, she demanded, “Liv? Is that you?” She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Well. At least she answered.” She spoke to Liv again. “Yes… No… I just… Oh, Livvy, Elli’s here. Your father has contacted her…. Yes. That’s right. That’s what I said…. He wants her to visit him in Gullandria. She tells me she’s going. She’s got some big Gullandrian savage with her…. Yes, yes. Insane… You’re so right. And I need to know. Have you heard from him? Has he summoned you, too?” Ingrid let out a relieved-sounding breath. “Thank God for that, at least.” Ingrid cast a sharp glance at Elli, then said to Liv, “Yes. I told you. She’s right here… All right.” She held out the phone. “Talk to your sister. Maybe she can make you see reason.”

Elli took the phone. She tried a light approach.

“Hey, there. How’s torts?” Liv was a law student at Stanford.

She was also ever the “big” sister, at fifty-nine minutes Elli’s senior. She started right in with a lecture. “Ell, are you crazy? There is no way you can do this.”

“Liv—”

“In the first place, you’ll break Mom’s heart if you go. And why would you even want to go, to take off out of nowhere for that throwback misogynistic block of ice in the Norwegian Sea? Step back. Get a grip on yourself. Ask yourself what’s really happening here. Who’s to say what that long-lost father of ours has in store for you once he gets you there and under his control?”

“Liv—”

“I don’t like this. It scares me. It—”

“Liv.”

“I don’t—”

“Liv!”

There was a silence, a hostile one. Then Liv finally grumbled, “What?”

“I’ve talked to Father. And I’ve made up my mind. I want to do this. I want to meet him.” She sent a glance at her mother, who stared back at her through anguished eyes. “Mom is going to accept this, eventually.” Passionately, her mother shook her head. Elli said slowly and clearly, “I don’t believe for a minute that Father would ever do me—or any of us—harm. I’m going to be fine. I’ll be back in three weeks and I want you not to worry.”

Liv swore under her breath. “You’re so easy most of the time. It was always Brit and I fighting over who got to run things. You’d just go along. But every once in a while, you’d decide to take a stand for your own way. And whenever you did…”

“That’s right. You two couldn’t budge me. One time in a hundred, we’d do what I wanted. And this is that one time.”

“It is strange, you have to admit it. He doesn’t know any of us. He’s made no effort to know us. Why now—and why did he pick on you in particular?”

“Why now? I think it’s obvious. With Valbrand gone, he can’t help but think of the daughters he’s never known.”

“Then why you?”

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out, I promise you that.”

“If anything happens to you in that place, I swear I will kill you.”

Elli couldn’t help smiling. “I love you, Livvy. I’ll be fine.”

“You’d better keep in touch on this.”

“You know I will.”

Ingrid took the phone again to say goodbye. The minute she disconnected the call, she tried Brit’s apartment in L.A. Brit’s machine answered. Ingrid left a message. After that, she dialed Brit’s cell, and then her other cell—Brit was forever losing her cell phones.

Increasingly frantic, Ingrid tried the numbers she had for three of Brit’s friends. The third one finally picked up the phone. She suggested Ingrid try to reach Brit at work.

Brit was a licensed pilot. She’d eaten beetles and jumped from a skyscraper on Fear Factor . She’d trekked the Amazon and the New Zealand wilderness. She’d also dropped out of college after only two years. Like Elli and Liv, Brit had a hefty regular income from a well-managed trust, but Brit was forever giving her money away and inevitably ran short before the next check came in.

So she worked. At a series of menial jobs.

Currently, she was waiting tables at an Italian restaurant on East Melrose, where the owner was Greek and all the cooks were from south of the border. Everybody hated to call her there. The owner did a lot of shouting whenever Brit used the phone.

But Ingrid was desperate. She dialed the number—and sighed in relief when Brit came on the line.

Ingrid asked her youngest daughter the same questions she’d asked Liv. She got the same answers. Brit was fine, too. No sign of any Vikings in her life. And she wanted to talk to Elli.

So Elli took the phone and explained what she’d already explained to Liv, while in the background, the owner of the restaurant yelled at Brit to get to work and Brit had to pause every couple of minutes to shout at him to get off her back.

“Just stay in touch, okay?” Brit demanded, echoing Liv.

“I will. I love you. Don’t work too hard.”

“Hah. Like I’ve got a choice in this place. It’s a hellhole, I’m telling you.”

The call to Brit seemed to get Ingrid more upset than before. But Ingrid always got upset when it came to her underemployed, fearless, free-spirited youngest daughter.