mind, this one, done up in its full banquet finery, beat even the throne room.
“I never thought I’d say it, but…this suddenly feels right, in here.” Kelsey tapped the sides of her tiara with its alternating ovals of amethysts and diamonds. “I’m glad I’m wearing it. Almost as glad as I am that Gran loaned you one, too.”
Mallory’s fingers drifted up to the spear of double emeralds at the center of her tiara. The grand duchess had insisted she wear the entire parure including the necklace, earrings, and bracelet. It had felt like playing dress-up, like the beautiful gems couldn’t possibly be real. But in this room, it felt natural.
The Persephone Ball had been more…fun. More of a Cinderella moment. This state banquet for the Swedish crown princess was something altogether different. It was full of royalty from multiple countries, ambassadors and nobility, with overlaps of the crème de la crème of business, culture, and politics.
Much more formal.
It was the kind of affair where if you picked up the wrong one of the six glasses at your place setting, all 159 other guests would gasp in shocked unison. But she and Kelsey were determined to fit in, to integrate, well, if not seamlessly, then at least with as little attention as possible.
Mallory had a work plan for tonight, too. A thorough scouring of the guest list had yielded several people on tap to attend the orphans gala; people who had not yet committed to their donation. Duchess Mathilde had urged her to use her palace connections to shake people down.
What better place than this gleaming jewel box of a room to remind them that Princess Kelsey was the official patron and, by the way, how much could they be counted on to give to this oh-so-worthy cause?
“Well, we may look the part, but we don’t want to give away that we’re just girls from small-town Michigan. Don’t forget why we came in here.” Mallory brandished the small plate piled with appetizers. “To try the weird food where nobody could watch us react.”
“Thanks for humoring me.” Kelsey gave her a one-armed hug. “I know you’ll probably love all of it.”
“What can I say? Food is fun. I haven’t sampled a single thing in Europe that hasn’t been delicious.” The new tastes and smells and sounds and experiences had all been wonderful. Exciting. Interesting.
Aside from getting shot.
Kelsey swiftly pulled off a white glove. “Yes, but that thing? It’s fish mousse…mousseline? It’s grayish tan and speckled. Slimy. It looks all wrong.”
It was the least appetizing thing on the plate. “We’ll save it for last. Start with the caviar toast point.”
“Why so much fish? Why can’t there be Swedish meatballs? Or buffalo chicken dip?”
Ah.
Now Mallory got it.
The deliberate mentions of some of their family’s most beloved tailgate apps gave her away. The unfamiliar food, the pomp and circumstance, the wholly unfamiliar clothes and jewels and people—Kelsey was having another wave of homesickness. They came far less often these days, for both of them.
“Chew,” she ordered. “It’d be too meta to serve Swedish meatballs to the Swedish guest of honor. What if the chef got it wrong?”
“Oh, no. What if the Swedish contingent sounds just like the Swedish chef on The Muppets?” Kelsey put her hand over her mouth as she giggled. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep a straight face.”
Damn it. Now she wouldn’t be able to, either. Thanks a bunch.
But at least Kelsey had swallowed the caviar without comment. “Um, maybe they’ll just assume the champagne went to your head? Try the shrimp next.”
This time Kelsey didn’t scowl at it. Just popped it in without comment. “I’m having a brainstorm. What if you and I throw a party? Where we serve our favorite appetizers? Not this big, obviously. I think our limit should be a handful of royalty.”
It was a great idea. Mallory pulled off her own green satin glove and sampled a stuffed calamari. Then it hit her. “I’m taking it up a level. What if we do it for Thanksgiving?”
“Moncriano doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Sheesh. That five you pulled off on your AP American History exam doesn’t sound so good when you can’t remember that it’s a holiday started by the Puritans.”
They were definitely retreading familiar territory now. “You’re still bitter because I scored higher than you? Well, news flash: now you’re a freaking princess. I think you officially have come out on top in this sisterly rivalry.”
Kelsey swished her skirts back and forth, channeling Anna from Frozen. “Yep.