Princess - A Love Story

Chapter 7

It was another two weeks before a meeting could be arranged with Lord Stylianou. A lot of it was posturing on Philip's part to show that that the Princess-to-be was not available at Lord Stylianou's pleasure. Finally, the day arrived. Emily was a nervous wreck. A little before three Marie escorted her to meeting room. It was an ante chamber off the Queen's study where she typically received important members of the government or the aristocracy. She was escorted to the library first where Philip awaited her.

She was wearing a blue printed skirt with a simple black blouse with a Chinese collar. She had tied her long hair into a neat French braid, the austere style making her look effortlessly elegant. He took her arm to put on his to escort her to the ante chamber when she snatched her hand back. "I can't do this," she moaned. Firmly placing her small hand back on his arm Philip stated, "You can."

"I feel sick," she whined.

"That's probably because you skipped breakfast and lunch," he told her unsympathetically.

"What if he hates me?" she whispered. Philip stopped and turned to look her straight in the eye.

"Have no doubt on that count Emily. He does hate you. You are nothing more than a blot on his lineage and he hates more than anything else that you are now going to be part of the House of Kristakis. He is a bitter, power hungry man who will stop at nothing to be the most powerful man in the country."

"That doesn't make me feel better," she whispered as she allowed him to lead her.

Lord Stylianou was seated on a floral upholstered chair. He looked stern and forbidding and when he rose to greet them, Emily instinctively took a step back and would have stumbled over Philip's feet had his hands not come down on her shoulders to steady her. Gently he squeezed her shoulders "You're all right," he said in a low voice, more as a command than a statement. Yes, actually she was. Why was she so afraid again? She, Emily Stylianou, had survived on her own for so many years. What was one old grumpy man? She took a step forward again and regarded him silently.

His first words were addressed to Philip over her head. "I would speak to her in private."

"I am afraid I cannot allow that unless expressly requested by Emily."

Imperiously he flicked his eyes towards Emily and glared at her. When she said nothing, he said, "Well, tell him girl." She stared back for a few moments then said, "No. He stays," she said firmly. Lord Stylianou looked at her unblinkingly while he contemplated his next words.

"You have the look of your mother."

"So sorry to disappoint you," Emily said flippantly.

"I'm surprised to hear of your presence here." Thoughtfully, he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. "You came here to be His Highness' wife. In exchange, you get to be Princess and leave your poverty ridden life. In this country, there is a word for that." His voice was quiet, every word hitting like a bullet, as was his intention. Emily drew a sharp breath but Philip cut her off with a hand on her shoulder.

"Lord Stylianou, I would be careful with my words. You are addressing a member of my Household."

"She isn't a Kristakis yet."

"The only one who doubts that she will be, is you."

Lord Stylianou's lip curled in disgust. "I have seen all I needed to." He stood up. "Your Highness," he said bowing with the barest incline to his head. Turning to Emily, "I wouldn't get too comfortable here if I were you," he sneered then strode out of the room.

Emily let out a breath she hadn't even know she was holding. She also realized, to her surprise, she was shaking. With rage.

"Emily..." Philip began. "Not one word out of you." She said through gritted teeth. Her throat ached with the effort to not scream at him. She moved to leave when Philip held her arm to stay her departure.