CHAPTER 53
“CAMILLA, what kept you?”
Was surprised she was here, but I shouldn’t have been. After all, I’d asked for her by name. I’d just asked what seemed so long ago in terms of experience that I’d forgotten she was coming along.
She snorted. “Oh, just the usual crap you royals create in your wake. Your husband requests that you behave, Mister Reynolds requests that you not do something we’ll all regret, and your father-in-law, also known as Prince Alfred, says to do what you do best and not let the turkeys get you down. So to speak. I take direction from all three of them, but you get to guess who has the most authority as far as I’m concerned.”
Camilla was that rarest kind of A-C—one who could lie believably and at the drop of a hat. Alfred, being a good father, had assigned Camilla to protect Jeff and his family the moment I’d gotten pregnant with Jamie. As with Buchanan, who’d been put in place by my mother with the same directive, there wasn’t a day I wasn’t grateful for Camilla’s service.
She didn’t hang out with the rest of us all that much. The Official Liars had their own club, similar to Fight Club in that you could only find it if you knew about it and its first rule was that you didn’t talk about it. But since we’d been moving higher and higher up the political food chain, with more and more chaos circling around us, we’d seen her with greater frequency.
“Alfred is my guess and my favorite.”
“Got it in one, though I never had a doubt.”
“I’m flattered. But what’s up with the ‘you royals’ bit? Did Muddy talk to you or something?”
“No. I talked to him. He’s right. And I heard about Emperor Alexander’s sharing reality with all of you. He’s right, too. Time to play up the fact that your husband is royalty, Queen Katherine. I’m your lady in waiting, by the way, so expect me to be glued to your royal side for the duration.”
“Gotcha. What do I call you?”
“My name works. No one will pay attention to the servant.” She looked over at Mona. “Isn’t that right, Ambassadress?”
Mona laughed softly. “Queen Katherine, your servant appears to have forgotten her station.”
“Wow. You’re all so much better at this crap than I am.”
“We are.” Camilla looked around and waved her hand in a way I knew was a signal. Rahmi and Rhee zipped over. “Your other ladies in waiting need to stay near you as well, Queen Katherine.” Clearly Camilla was allowed to change the plan as she saw fit.
“You’re enjoying this title thing a little too much. You know I’m going on this tour as the First Lady, right? You did get that memo?”
“I know that royalty has a lot more cachet where we’re headed. So, however the Ambassadress refers to you, you go with it, including if she refers to you as the First Lady and as a royal queen by marriage in the same sentence. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.”
Would have said more but the floater gate shimmered into view and the first line stepped through. Mona put her arm through mine. “I understand these are unsettling for your stomach. I don’t care for them that much, either. So we’ll suffer through together.”
“Works for me.”
Would have liked to have kept a hold of my rolling bag, because it would have given me something to clutch with my free hand. But I didn’t have to think about it long, because Camilla took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Just focus on me and Mona and you’ll be fine.”
We stepped through. And it was pretty damn horrible, because Bahrain was far away from D.C. I wanted to close my eyes, but knew the worst thing in the world would be to step out in front of whoever we were going to be seeing with my eyes squeezed shut. Basically had a death grip on Camilla’s hand and was clutching Mona’s arm to me for the entire time.
Wasn’t quite as long a trip as it was to Sydney Base, but I was holding my breakfast down with all my might by the time our feet hit the floor in Bahrain. And we were definitely in Bahrain.
We’d landed in a large room that had high windows with yellow drapes, some very official-looking carpet with what might have been a royal crest pattern, and a lot of chairs placed around the room, backs up against the walls. There was a man in every, single seat. They were all in traditional dress and, based on what little I knew, were likely all sheiks or high-up government officials. Not one of them looked inviting or happy to be here.
We’d exited the gate in the middle and there were no chairs or tables or anything else. Well, there was a Bahraini flag at one end, standing next to the comfiest-looking chair in the room. Took a wild one and guessed that the flag was next to the king. We were facing him, and I really focused on not throwing up.
He was sitting, but he didn’t look very tall. He was also a little chubby, though on the cute side of chubby, like a teddy bear. He was wearing robes over a military uniform loaded with medals, the kufiyah he was wearing resembled a red and white checkered tablecloth, and he was also sporting a really 1970s moustache. Focused on his eyes—presumably gingham was a sign of royalty in this country, and maybe he was a huge Magnum P.I. fan.
Camilla and Mona moved us forward so the next people could come through. Then Camilla let go of my hand, though Mona didn’t release my arm.
Mona waited until the man I was now certain was the king nodded to her. Presumably he nodded once our people were in the room, because it was a good minute or more of waiting. She walked us forward. Then she let go of my arm and curtseyed. “Your Majesty, thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
The king looked at me. No one had bothered to tell me if I was supposed to bow or curtsey or whatever. My first move, for what would literally set the stage for this entire endeavor, and I had no freaking idea of what to do.
And now I was unintentionally having a staring contest with the King of Bahrain.
“Well, woman?” he said as we stared at each other. “Why do you stand there unmoving?”
I’d been a feminist all my life, well before it had become cool again. Rage nudged in and mentioned that while I was representing the United States I was also, clearly, representing my gender here. At least based on that greeting. And, I still had no idea what I was supposed to say, though I had less worry about it now.
For whatever reason, what Camilla had relayed from Alfred—to do what I did best—registered, along with what Muddy and Alexander had been imparting. What I did best was not kowtow to anyone, no matter how important they thought they were. And the Queen of the World curtseyed to no one.
She also didn’t have to wear a hijab.
Keeping eye contact with the king, I removed the hijab, ignoring the quiet murmurings from around the room. Folded it neatly. Then handed it behind me, still looking at the king.
Thankfully, Camilla took the hijab so I didn’t have to drop it on the ground. Then I walked closer and pulled myself up to my full height, so that I was definitely looking down on the king.
And then I ensured that I did something else—I channeled Mom’s Voice of Authority and everything I’d ever learned in the dreaded Washington Wife class, including how to speak as if I’d actually paid attention in the Washington Wife class.
“I am Katherine Sarah Katt-Martini, the First Lady of the United States, the Queen Regent of Earth for the Annocusal Royal Family of the Alpha Centauri Empire. My husband’s lineage goes back tens of thousands of years. His ancestors were exploring the stars before yours had learned to read or write. You will address me as either Madame First Lady or Queen Katherine, and you will never, ever speak to me disparagingly or in that tone of voice again, or I will gladly declare war upon your entire region.”
“You would set the U.S. against us for so minor a slight?” another man in the room asked.
Didn’t look at him. Kept my staring contest with the king going. “No, you utter fool. Not war from the United States. War from the stars. I will ask Emperor Alexander, he who I put on the throne, to avenge this insult in a way that ensures that no one else will ever dare be rude to any one of my people ever again. Now, you have exactly one second to decide what happens next.”