Emrys felt lucky that things had gone as well as they had. He would eventually have to have a word with Caitlyn and explain his mother’s misconceptions about their relationship. For now, though, he simply wanted her there by his side, making jokes and enjoying everything the royal life could bring her.
Chapter Six
Over the next few days, Caitlyn found herself experiencing the spoiling of a lifetime. The kitchen brought her whatever she liked as quickly as possible when she made a request via the intercom. Heloise was available to her before meals or trips outside of the palace to properly arrange her hair and choose her outfits—from a wardrobe that seemed to be expanding by itself somehow—and Heloise had even brought in a seamstress to have Caitlyn’s clothes custom fitted. Almost every day, she found gifts waiting for her on her pillow or at breakfast. Once, she’d walked into the tea room to see an explosion of orange and gold daisies. Emrys had simply hugged her from behind and whispered that he knew she loved daisies.
It was true, of course. Still, she had no idea what the purpose behind all of this was. The tending from Heloise could’ve been passed off as the woman doing her job well. But each time she saw a new gift, Caitlyn felt more and more curious. What was all this lavish attention for? It wasn’t all from Emrys, either. The new clothing and one necklace had come from his mother, paired with the explanation that a woman in the company of a Sébire man must at all times look her best. Caitlyn knew that Emrys’s mother didn’t entirely approve of her, but at the same time, she seemed steadfast in her determination to make Caitlyn’s behavior conform to an unspoken, but impossibly high standard.
That morning, Emrys had been obligated to attend a Skype meeting regarding his next project and promised to meet with her later. Having finished everything on her to-do list for her web design clients the night before, she took Imelda up on her offer to go out to the market together.
Caitlyn arrived, freshly coiffed by Heloise, to find Imelda waiting, her long dark hair pinned up on her head as she made notes in a bound book. When she spotted Caitlyn, she slipped the book into her purse and rose.
“Ah, Caitlyn dear. Are you ready?”
“I am. What are you looking for at the market?”
Imelda chuckled and offered Caitlyn her arm. “Come.”
Caitlyn didn’t find the question all that funny, but she followed regardless, and as soon as they stepped out of the palace, a pair of guards flanked them. Well, of course, Imelda was heir apparent. Had to protect this one.
Instead of taking a car, Imelda took Caitlyn along a footpath and through a gate. As they walked, Imelda began a truly dizzying lecture on the running of Cabeau’s parliament, and how the monarch fit into that governmental structure. If they hadn’t been walking, Caitlyn might have taken a nap.
“I guess you guys don’t have Starbucks around here,” Caitlyn joked.
“Of course not. We’ll visit a stand once we reach the market. They always have the most exquisite offerings. You came to visit at a good time. All our farmers are bringing in their produce. The harvest festival is held the same day we have our ball in the palace.”
“That sounds fun. Will we go to the festival?”
“Oh, no. It’s too difficult to arrange that much security. But we can go out for the events leading up to it. It does the people good to see their royal family from time to time,” Imelda advised. “We are a small country, and the people are very attached to us. They’ll be watching our every move, so it is important to be respectable and worthy of their admiration.”
Caitlyn nodded and gave her a vague smile. Imelda was a little strange.
They approached the market, where the entire street had been taken over by vendors. The stalls sold vegetables, clothes, people’s homemade wares and artwork, and steaming plates of food. Everyone was wearing colorful sweaters and large, fluffy scarves. Caitlyn didn’t feel all that cold, though. She was the only one strolling along wearing sandals and a short-sleeved dress.
Imelda took her to a cart where the vendor seemed appropriately star-struck to be talking to her. The vendor, a middle-aged man, handed Caitlyn a large cup of coffee.
“There’s a hint of cinnamon in it,” he said. “I hope you like it.”
“Oh, I do like cinnamon.” Caitlyn smelled the coffee and smiled. “Thank you.”
The two of them walked through the market, and Caitlyn watched the people going about their business and enjoying the excitement. A pair of little girls bolted past the two of them, giggling and holding hands.
“This place is lovely,” Caitlyn murmured.