“Well, don’t waste the woo on me. Not that it’s not a really nice offer. Because it is!”
“So. Why won’t you?”
“Because, frankly, being queen sounds like a gigantic pain in the ass.”
“I offer you a country and you tell me it’s a pain in the ass?”
She stared at the ceiling, then nodded and said, “Yeah, um…yeah. I’m going to stand by that.”
“But you don’t have anything!” he exclaimed. “My father said you’re all alone in the world and you—uh—” Don’t have anywhere to go, and are entirely dependent on the kindness of strangers. Never mind. That wouldn’t do.
She jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest. “I’ve got myself, pal. And that’s more than a lot of people have. Why should I submerge my identity with your family’s? I can hop a boat or a plane and go anywhere in the world, for as long as I want. You know, if I had any money. Can you?”
“Theoretically.” After the king approved, and the bodyguards were lined up, and the arrangements made, and security triple-checked everything, and—
“Right. Pass. No offense. But thanks for asking. Again.”
“Well, you can at least have dinner with me. You know, to let me down gently.”
She laughed. “Sure, you’re soooo crushed. You don’t even know me! Another excellent reason to say no, by the way. But all right. We’ll have dinner.”
“Scrambled eggs and bacon. And oysters with cocktail sauce.”
“You can skip the oysters. And I like ketchup on my eggs.”
He managed to conceal the shudder as he bowed, and took his leave of her.
“Hey!” she yelled after him. “I’m not gonna have to curtsey, am I?”
“We don’t curtsey in Alaska,” he called back. “We only bow.”
“Well, good.”
Chapter 7
Christina started to get a bad feeling when the smell hit her. Bird droppings and dead fish. The last time she’d smelled that, she was in Boston visiting the New England Aquarium.
But in the palace? What the hell? Sure, she was on the farthest west end of the palace…much farther and she’d be out on the lawn, but that smell…ugh!
She tapped on a door marked P, P, for P and at David’s “Come!” entered cautiously.
“I knew it!” she said as the smell assaulted her anew. “You’ve got penguins in here!”
He straightened up from where he’d been leaning and tossing fish into the water. He was dressed in navy shorts, belted at the waist, a billowy white shirt open at the throat, and sandals. His big blue eyes gleamed at her in a friendly way, and stubble bloomed along his cheek. It was almost enough to distract her from the reek.
Almost.
“Hello again. Forgive my appearance, but I had the distinct impression you wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t in a suit. Aren’t they charming?”
“Bleah, no!”
He froze in the act of dropping another dead fish, and nearly lost the first two fingers on his left hand to a particularly hungry penguin. “What?”
She threw up her hands. “Jeez, Dave, you are so spoiled! This whole crown prince gig makes things really easy, doesn’t it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but in five minutes you won’t notice the smell. Now, I’m having our dinner delivered up here in ten minutes, but there’s champagne in the—”
“Ugh, we’re eating in here? Amid messy birds and fish scales? What is wrong with you? A normal guy would never, ever get away with this. But you can bring girls to this stinky room and they actually pretend to be into it, don’t they?”
He cocked his head—just like the penguins were doing!—and said sharply, “Pretend?”
She folded her hands over her breasts and looked adoringly at him. “Oh, Your Highness, they’re so cuuuute! And they swim so fast! And look, they’re eating right out of your manfully royal hand! And they don’t smell like fishy shit or anything!” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, then had to stop when it made her dizzy. “Seriously, Dave. That whole, ‘Hi, I’m going to be the king of Alaska someday…how you doin’?’ thing works pretty well for you, doesn’t it?”
“What is wrong with a hobby?” he demanded, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.
“Hobby! There’s gotta be a hundred of the little buggers in here. So you, like, kidnapped them from Canada or wherever—”
“Antarctica,” he said sourly.
“—then shut them up in your little palace of horrors—”
“I did not!” He angrily shook his head. “By that I mean, they have plenty of room, they’re happy, and they’re in no danger of being devoured by a killer whale or a walrus in here.”
“No, they’re just in danger of making guests pass out from the stink. But I guess that’s okay.”
“Well, I’m not getting rid of them,” he shouted, “no matter how many freckles you have!”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Well, I’m not eating in here.”
“You certainly are, Christina!”
“Oh, that’s supposed to be a royal order or something? Fact check, Prince Penguin, I’m an American citizen. You can’t make me do shit.”
“Then go away,” he snapped.
“In a New York minute, pal! If I see one more bird shit on those rocks, I’m going to yark. Not that you’d notice the smell. And what’s P, P, for P?”
“What?” He was very red, but took a deep breath and seemed to recover enough temper to answer the question. “It’s Privacy, Please, for the Penguins.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Oh, I’m gonna puke right now,” she finally decided, and let herself out.
The moment she left, David hurled the contents of the last bucket into the water, and watched moodily while the cleverest, most charming creatures on the planet devoured the last of the fish.
“Well,” Edmund coughed, emerging from one of the storage areas, a hose coiled over his shoulder, “that went well.”
David nearly fell into the penguin pond. It was absolutely uncanny the way Edmund popped up and disappeared, never being heard or seen unless he chose to. “What are you doing here? If the rocks need to be washed off, I’ll take care of it.”
“I was merely anticipating your needs, sir, as any good assistant—”
“Eavesdropper!”
“—would do. It’s just as well.”
“What?”
“Well, the last thing in the world you need is a wife and partner who will tell you the truth, no matter how unpleasant. You need a flatterer, a panderer, a—”
“—woman like my mother, no thanks.” He stared gloomily into the water for a long moment. “Well, I’m not getting rid of them, and that’s that.”
“As crown prince, you don’t have to do much you don’t wish to.”
“The biggest lie of all,” he sighed. “But I suppose you’re right. She’s—well, refreshing,