The Royal Mess Read Free Page B

not to grin and failing. “I didn’t see much of her mother in her, to tell the truth. But I know it like I know how to gut a salmon: Nicole Krenski is my daughter.”
    â€œPure poetry as usual, my king. May I meet her?”
    â€œUh.” Al glanced at Jeff, who remained a stone. “Well, she refused to come with us.”
    Edmund, tidying still more paperwork, froze. This was the equivalent of anyone else yelling, “What the holy hell are you talking about?!?”
    After a long silence, Edmund straightened and put his fingers together, Mr. Burns style. The only thing missing was a drawn-out “Ehhhxxxceleeent.”
    Edmund took a breath and let it out. “She . . . refused?”
    â€œFlat out.”
    â€œBut she cannot. She may be royalty, but she is also your subject, and as such, she—”
    â€œNope, dual citizenship.”
    â€œDual . . . ah.” Edmund tapped his long, skinny fingers together. “But if she refused to return with you, then why did she bother to—ah. Perhaps her mother asked her to? A, erm, dying wish, perhaps?”
    â€œRight on the nose, Eddie.”
    â€œSire, if you call me that again I shall instantly tender my resignation, and then disembowel you.”
    â€œHe threatened the king,” Al told Jeff. “That’s worth prison time. My great-granddaddy signed the bill himself.”
    Jeff didn’t move, or speak. It was the rare week Edmund didn’t threaten to resign or slaughter the royal family, or both.
    â€œGod, what a kid,” Al continued, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. He sighed happily. “Got the drop on us, jammed that .38 in the back of Jeff’s head—”
    There was the dull thud as Jeff banged the back of his head on the wall, his eyes closed. Politely, Al and Edmund ignored it.
    â€œâ€”sassed me like you wouldn’t believe, then kicked us off her property. It was unbelievably wonderful.”
    â€œIt, er, sounds unbelievably wonderful.”
    Jeffrey banged his head again.
    With a worried glance at the head of his detail, the king finished, “Nobody’s talked to me like that since Christina joined the family.”
    â€œShe certainly sounds like a Baranov,” Edmund admitted. “Sire, it is vital we verify her bloodline. You realize the ramifications.”
    Al did. He wondered what his eldest son, David, would think about all this. What all the kids would think.
    â€œD’you think I should tell the kids now or wait until we have proof?”
    Edmund hesitated. “My king, I would not presume to advise you on such a personal matter.”
    Jeffrey made a strangled sound that he managed to turn into a cough; Al laughed outright. “Since when? You got a fever or something, Edmund?”
    Jeff cleared his throat. It sounded like gravel in a blender. “Let me go back, Majesty.”
    Surprised, Al glanced at his bodyguard. “What? Jeff? Did you hit your head too hard on the wall?”
    â€œSire, let me go back and try again.”
    â€œJeez, I dunno . . . I thought we’d give her a little space before trying again.”
    â€œMy king, you know that is unacceptable!” Edmund was as upset as Al had ever seen, and that was saying something. He had actually raised his voice. “We cannot let this sleeping dog lie!”
    â€œTry to resist referring to my kid as a dog.”
    â€œI require proof she is your kid, my king. And you know why. And you know we cannot delay.”
    The king shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Yeah, but—”
    â€œSire, forgive the interruption, but let me go back,” Jeff urged. “First thing tomorrow. I’ll switch detail with Reynolds. I can do this. Please let me do this.”
    â€œJeez, Jeff . . .”
    â€œWith all do respect, Jeffrey, if the king could not persuade her, I fail to see what—”
    â€œHush up, Edmund. Give me a second