How to Catch a Queen (Runaway Royals #1) - Alyssa Cole Page 0,49
I’m doing some job hunting, though Johan has told me to wait until I can benefit from nepotism at the nonprofit he’s setting up here.
Shanti: Bootstraps are for suckers; get in at the nonprofit!
Shanti: I’m scanning documents in the Royal Library. It’s not the most glamorous job, but it’s important to preserve the history of a kingdom.
Nya: You like history? Hold on!
~Ms. Portia Hobbs, Basically Duchess of E If Ya Nasty~ has entered the chat.
Portia: Did someone say history?
Nya: Shanti, this is my friend Portia! She’s a history fanatic and she’s engaged to the Duke of Edinburgh!
Portia: The Duke of Edinburgh is engaged to ME.
Nya:
Yes, Shanti had followed Portia Hobbs’s exploits in the newspapers, in part because the woman was best friends with Princess Naledi of Thesolo. She’d also wondered how Portia had been lucky enough to accidentally land herself a duke and hadn’t yet married him. But Portia was rich and seemed to have plenty of power on her own; she didn’t need a title to make people listen to her. Also, dating someone for a few years before marrying them was probably more common than marrying them sight unseen.
Shanti: Hello, Portia. It’s a pleasure to virtually meet you.
Portia: Hi! Okay, first, I loved the dress you wore to your wedding ceremony. Second, who is doing your PR because I haven’t seen any other photos of you and I’d love to know how you stay out of the papers.
Shanti: Thank you! And I’ll ask the palace press secretary about who does PR.
Shanti had no idea who the palace press secretary was. No one had ever even asked her to do an interview.
Portia: Great! So you’re archiving Njazan history?
Portia: Where are you uploading the info? Is there a website?
Portia: I don’t know much about Njaza and I’d love to learn more!
Shanti stared in disbelief as more text bubbles popped up, one after another, sharing resources about the best scanning techniques, exercises to keep your back and wrists from aching, questions about Njazan monarchy, and then facts she’d clearly started to pull up on the internet herself before Shanti could answer.
Shanti laughed out loud—not at Portia, but with a surprised delight. She’d imagined Portia Hobbs as some stuck-up socialite from how she was portrayed in the tabloids, but the woman was clearly just a huge nerd. People always thought Shanti was stuck-up, too, so she should have known better than to pass judgment.
Portia: They worship a warrior god there? And a wisdom god? Interesting.
Nya: I knew she’d be excited. She’s already down the rabbit hole like Alison.
Nya: *Alice
Shanti: Here is an example of what I’m scanning.
She sent through a picture of a reenactment of Omakuumi’s Rebellion, which was when the ancient king had ascended to godlike status with Amageez at his side. The photo showed spear-toting reenactors of warriors clad in traditional robes, their chests glistening with sweat.
Portia: First of all, I think it’s fascinating that their traditional outfits look and are worn similarly to the Scottish plaid? And aren’t Njazans technically Highlanders, too? I wonder if anyone has researched that sartorial connection. Second of all, !! Do all the men there look like that? Because I have airline miles.
Nya: And what about the duke who’s engaged to you?
Portia: Hey, he can come too. I could be the filling in a bicontinental Highlander sandwich.
Nya: Omg! And pardon me, but isn’t that impossible since . . . there can be only one?!
Shanti giggled, feeling oddly light. A week ago, she’d been friendless, and now she had one confirmed friend and one potential one making her laugh even though they were thousands of miles away.
“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Playing on your phone?”
Shanti looked up to see Josiane and Gertinj staring down at her, a scowl on the old woman’s face and no expression at all on the slightly younger woman’s.
“No. I just received an important email,” she said politely as she put the phone down with the screen toward the table.
“Humph. What should I expect from a Thesoloian? Think you’re too good to work, I imagine. Or even to go line up for the king’s speech today?”
Shanti stiffened in her seat. The words didn’t hurt her but the disrespect infuriated her. She wasn’t allowed at the king’s speech; it was yet another one of the bizarre traditions that bound a queen. If she were to go, she’d have to sneak in, and she was doing enough sneaking around as it was.