Daphne pushed through the door and stepped out into the dark hallway.
Despite the early hour, certain quarters of the palace were beginning to stir for the day. The PPOs, other security personnel, and the kitchens were probably well into beginning their workday. But the largely governmental sections of the building were still dimly lit by security lights. There weren't any telephones ringing or staff members rushing back and forth between offices to deliver new information or drafts of press releases for review. When she was a child, she had found this section of the palace creepy at night. Today, it was a small mercy not to worry about anyone else seeing her.
By the time she reached her apartment in the eastern wing of the palace, the sun had barely begun to creep over the horizon. Her room was dimly lit by an antique lamp on her bedside table, and she inhaled the familiar scent of the light, clean laundry detergent that the housekeeping staff had used for as long as she could remember. Even though her suitcases were still in Italy, someone had thought to put one of her favorite pairs of pajamas on the bed. Daphne dug her spare toothbrush and her face wash out of her go bag and padded into her bathroom. There was no way that she was going to go through all of the steps of her skincare routine, but she would at least make her dermatologist happy and do the bare minimum.
After a few moments of scrubbing and brushing, she stepped back and smiled at her tired reflection in the mirror. Privileged or not, she was still proud of herself for surviving this horrific day. She was proud that she hadn't allowed herself to be cowed by whoever had planned and executed the bombing.
What bothered her about her father and Jacob's request had nothing to do with helping to protect her family. She would do anything she could to make sure that her mother, father, brother, and sisters lived the safest life possible. The idea that Genevieve or Celia could have been on the red carpet tonight in her place or that there was a similar event waiting for either of them was enough to make her skin crawl.
It was the fact that the only reason that she was helpful in this plan was because of her position. They needed Daphne not because she had any particular skills, but because the end of her relationship had put her in the right place at the right time.
And because she was a member of the royal family.
If she was anyone else's twin sister, people would have shaken their heads at the spectacle of her breakup and moved on.
As much as she had felt a certain pull to Jacob as he sat in her father's office and explained how integral she would be in this mission, Daphne was very clear on the fact that he needed the princess first and foremost. He needed the literal doors that she could open for him. For her entire life, she had wanted to separate herself from the station she occupied. Now, even on the worst day of her life, she couldn't seem to shake it.
Is that enough of a reason to not help where I can? she wondered as she walked back towards her bed. Can I live with myself if I say no?
Deep in her heart, her decision was already made. Of course she would do what she could to help Jacob. Of course she would sacrifice anything she could for her family.
When she was seven, her father's mother, The Queen Mother, had pulled her aside and told her as much. "You are very young, Daphne, and your father will tell me that you are too young to know this, but I've never thought that age was an excuse to avoid difficult conversations."
The former queen stared down at her granddaughter over her silver glasses frames for a long moment, apparently trying to gauge how much to say. Daphne hadn't known how to react, so she said nothing, drawing herself up to her full height and trying to seem as grown up as she could.
When she didn't respond, the older woman had continued, "You are the first set of twins in our family history. You will most likely never inherit the throne, but your country needs you just as much as it needs your brother. He will be king, but you will protect our lineage. It will be up to you to make sure that Nicholas doesn't allow his wealth to make him wild and immoral. It will be up to you to make sure that he is always the prince that his country needs him to be." The older woman glanced sideways for a moment, ensuring that she wasn't overheard. "Sometimes that may mean covering up for him."
Even though she was too young to understand exactly what her grandmother was saying, Daphne remembered the weight of her new responsibility landing almost tangibly on her shoulders. The idea of her twin getting away with everything because he would be king rankled, but one never argued with the Queen Mother. "Yes, Grandmother," she'd said instead, swallowing a lump the size of a lemon in her throat.
The Queen Mother nodded, looking pleased with her response. "What people these days never seem to understand is that the crown is so much more than a single person. First and foremost, it is a symbol of strength. No man is ever truly worthy to lead an entire country on his own, but the more that he can project an air of confidence and wisdom, the better. You will be my eyes to ensure that your brother appears as wise and ready for this responsibility as he possibly can be."
Daphne shook her head to clear the old memory. If her grandmother was looking down on her somewhere, she hoped she wasn't too disappointed with her efforts. Nicholas was young and powerful – and had the delusions that accompanied that. The worst part was that he had never done anything to compromise his sister or his position, which only heightened Daphne's sense that she was unnecessary.
Maybe using herself as a human key to unlock doors for Jacob's investigion would provide some of the protection her grandmother intended.
She pulled on the soft pajamas, remembering with a scowl how Gustavo had nicknamed them her "old lady" pajamas and teased her when she wore them. The pang she felt was one of both annoyance and of sadness. Even though she should have known he wasn't right for her, she still missed him. She wished she could call him and fall asleep talking to him on the phone.
Unbidden, the picture of Adrienne Crane walking with her hand tucked in the back pocket of Gustavo's jeans flashed into her mind. A new feeling, mostly nausea, replaced the longing she'd had only moments before. Clearly, her feelings for him weren't mutual. She wondered if they ever had been.
She reached for her phone on the bedside table and scrolled through the dozens of text messages and missed call alerts from the last several hours. Normally, she didn't touch her phone for days after a big scandal broke. This time, she couldn't bring herself to look away. She finally put it down when she saw Gustavo's last text. I'm sorry.
Two simple words, and her heart was newly ripped in two again.
As she drifted off to sleep, she vowed that whoever she married would appreciate the value of comfy pajamas and of Daphne, the person, instead of Daphne the princess.
She hoped that such a person existed.
YOU ARE READING
The Elite (Romantic Suspense)
Romance"Keep your head down," he said. "I don't like what's going on in there." Daphne leaned forward until she was almost bent in half, cheek pressed against the satin skirt of her gown. "What is happening in there?" she managed after a moment. And who ar...
