Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,7
haired men were the brothers Urmas mentioned, the women their wives or intended. The pairings made sense and the men weren't security, which left Royals.
The petulant woman must be the sister.
“Those two there by the window are Mattias and the woman he dates, Viia. Mattias is second in line to the throne behind his eldest brother, Dare,” Allar murmured.
Chey now had a name to go with the man who exuded so much primal magnetism: Mattias. It suited him.
“The other male, with the green eyes, is Paavo. Third in line to the throne. His fiance there is Aurora. And the little beauty who is impatient to start is Natalia. All we await now are the King and Queen, then we may begin.” Allar straightened after he completed filling Chey in on who was who.
“Thank you,” Chey said under her breath.
Mollified to know she'd at least guessed the status, if not the rank, Chey fixed her attention on the equipment. Although it was already set and ready, she went over it again. Just to keep her fingers and mind occupied. She wondered if this was the way it would be for every shoot, with the security heavy and the Royals staggering in at intervals.
“Oh, and because you're American, you're not expected to curtsy to Royalty, but it would be a mark in your favor if you learned and displayed your lesser rank at some point,” Allar added.
Chey noted the men in the room had all at least bowed their heads in deference. She wasn't sure how she felt about curtsying to anyone, especially people who were not of her home country. Curtsying wasn't a custom anyway in America—why should she do it here?
When in Rome, do as the Romans do, she reminded herself. It sat ill with her, as well, hearing of her lesser rank. Mildly irked, she hid it behind a professional veneer.
“I'll take that into consideration.” Chey kept her voice low, like she worried she might disturb the waiting Royals.
“Excellent.” Clearly, Allar approved.
A disturbance in the hallway alerted Chey to the arrival of the King and Queen. They entered with a surprising air of normalcy. The King, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and a neat mustache-goatee combination, held himself with importance but also nonchalance. Dressed in a sharp suit of navy pinstripes, he wore a draping mantle of fur around his shoulders, denoting his status and title. His wife appeared almost bored, but not rudely so, dark hair swept up into an intricate coif held with tiny pearl pins. Her eyes were the exact same color as Mattias's. She wore a dress in gray so light it was almost white. The beaded lapels matched the three inch cuffs.
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to either bow or curtsy.
Chey felt out of place and diverted her attention back to her camera. She didn't want to stare and be reprimanded nor did she feel comfortable attempting an awkward curtsy. She had trouble getting past the notion that these people ruled an entire country, had ruled it for generations. It was incomprehensible that someone had so much power and influence, even though the rational part of her mind understood that this was the way it had been in many countries for centuries.
The moment passed as quickly as it had arrived, much to her relief. She watched the pomp and circumstance, all the people coming and going that had some sort of duty to the Royals, with no small amount of subdued awe. One staff member approached the Queen carrying a pillow with a gilded staff nestled on top. The Queen picked it up with care and tucked it regally into the crook of her arm like a mother with a newborn baby.
“And that, of course, is King Aksel and Queen Helina. You will be doing several sittings with just them in the coming days,” Allar explained in a low voice at her ear.
“I imagine so, considering their status,” Chey whispered. After all, she was here to capture their likeness for the history books and future generations.
“How would you like your first pose?” Allar asked.
Chey didn't need to stop and contemplate. She pointed to chairs and sofas and added names to go along with them. Women in the front, Queen in the center, the men standing behind.
Allar stepped away and approached Urmas, relaying the information. Urmas, in turn, began gently suggesting seating, brisk and businesslike.
Chey stepped behind the camera to size up the scene. Maids hurried in to