The Royal Pain. MaryJanice Davidson

hairstyle. “You need a trank, among other things. And if you think that got you out of the ceremony, think again, missy.”

      “Where am I?”

      “East parlor,” Edmund replied. “First floor, east wing. It was the closest couch we could find, Your Highness.”

      Alex started to prop herself up on her elbows, only to feel Dr. Pohl grab an elbow and pull her back down. “How long since you’ve had a full night’s sleep?”

      “Last night.”

      “Liar,” Christina said. She was cradling the baby and looking down at Alex just as anxiously as the others. Only Dara seemed unmoved; she had nodded off on her mother’s shoulder, a tiny thumb corked in her mouth. “It’s been months.”

      “It hasn’t been that long,” Alex protested. “Will someone let me up, please?”

      “After the doc gets done. And Jenny’s bringing a tray. Maybe you can get up after you eat every bite.”

      “She was worried sick,” Prince Alex bragged, slicking back his already-slicked back hair with both hands. “Fainted like a teeny girl. What a big loser.”

      “I was not! I was just wondering where you were.”

      “You really did faint like a—well, a princess, I guess. If you read the fairy tales,” Kathryn added.

      “I did not faint! I lost my footing for a second and the rest of you overreacted.”

      “You passed out,” Dr. Pohl corrected, putting away her stethoscope, “due to a combination of fatigue, stress, and malnutrition. In fact, I’d say you’re at least ten pounds under your ideal weight. Why haven’t you been eating?”

      “For the last time, I’m fine. Now take your hands off me.”

      Dr. Pohl let go of her like she was hot.

      “Girly-o,” her father said, his eyes slits of blue and the usual smirk nowhere to be seen on his face, “sick or not, you’d better apologize or you’ll be unconscious again.”

      “I’m sorry, Dr. Pohl,” she muttered.

      “It’s fine, Your Highness. I’m used to being screeched at by royalty. Oh, the things I could tell you if not for doctor-patient privilege.”

      “Hey!” Christina yelped.

      “Besides, we can discuss that and—other things—at your appointment.”

      “What?” Alex cried, and nearly fell off the couch.

      Chapter 3

      “Everything is really fine,” Alexandria said, looking Dr. Pohl straight in the eye with as open and honest a gaze as had ever been on a face.

      “With all due respect, Your Highness, you’re full of shit.”

      “You sounded exactly like Princess Christina when you said that,” she commented. “I must protest. How about a little respect for a member of the royal family?”

      “How about a little respect for me?” Dr. Pohl replied quietly. She was an attractive, pale woman in her early sixties, with the curly white hair of a cherub and the piercing intellect of a Nobel Prize winner. Which she was. “It’s quite obvious you aren’t sleeping well. It was obvious before yesterday’s incident.”

      “At least we got the ceremony done. Thank God the press wasn’t there anymore.”

      “Yes, that’s exactly the thing we should be worrying about right now. You’re a beautiful woman, Princess Alexandria, but you’ve got bags under your eyes the size of tea cups.”

      “Partying,” she suggested. “The wild royal lifestyle.”

      “Nice try, but you weren’t anywhere in that issue of People.”

      Alex shrugged and looked around the large office. “It’s not a problem for me. It’s just…how things are now.”

      “I disagree.”

      “There is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

      Dr. Pohl raised white eyebrows.

      “It might seem personal.”

      “Try me, Your Highness.”

      “I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring it up for months.”

      Dr. Pohl leaned forward. “You’re safe here, Princess. You can discuss anything with me.”

      “What’s with all the ducks?” There were pictures of mallards on the wall, wood duck statues, antique painted duck decoys, pinheads, spoonbills, and mergansers. Two framed duck prints from America. “I’m having waterfowl overload. Is it a special thing with you? Were you raised by mallards?”

      Dr. Pohl settled back, admirably masking her sigh. She ran a hand through her white curls, adjusted her glasses, and put her pencil down. “You’re changing the subject, Your Highness. Not surprising, given what happened yesterday, but not helpful, either.”

      “Well, I can if I want. I can talk about anything in here I want. I’m safe, remember?”

      “You say that like you don’t believe it.”

      She looked away. “Like I said, I can change the subject to whatever I want.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, striving not to sound like a spoiled palace brat, and failing. “Current events. Waterfowl. The state of the Union. Prince William’s upcoming marriage, which my dad actually thinks he’ll be invited to. My niece. She’s brilliant, you know.”

      “So you’ve said. Your Highness—”

      “She’s already talking and she’s only one.”

      “Yes, Your—”

      “She’s practically toilet training herself and she’s only one. Isn’t that amazing? Don’t you think that’s amazing?”

      “Fortunately, she won’t ever have to worry about Devon.”

      Alex felt herself tighten. “That’s a little obvious for a supposedly subtle analyst, isn’t it?”

      “I suppose.”

      “And there’s always a Devon,” she said bitterly. “Always.”

      “So your niece isn’t safe? Your brother? Your father? If someone turns up late, they’ve been kidnapped?”

      “Look, I overreacted yesterday, okay? Let’s move on.”

      “You’re not,” Dr. Pohl said quietly, “or we would.”

      “B-besides, when has safety ever been a guarantee? For anyone, never mind someone in the public eye? Even for the good guys? My family didn’t take this country from Russia by being nice. I’m sure felony assault was involved.”

      “So this is how it’s supposed to be? You’re a closed-off wreck who can’t sleep because people aren’t nice?”

      “But my family’s okay for now. If that’s the trade-off, I’ll take it.”

      “Princess Alexandria, it wasn’t a deal.” Dr. Pohl was leaning forward, her gaze so compassionate Alex had to look away again. “In fact, it’s not a trade-off. Why shouldn’t your family be alive and well—all respect to your late mother, the queen—and why shouldn’t you have a happy and fulfilling life?”

      “Well, for one thing, if I did, you’d be out of business.”

      “Hardly,” she muttered. “Your sister-in-law keeps me on my toes.” Then, louder, “How is the medication working for you?”

      “Fine.”

      “It’s amazing,” Dr. Pohl said, amused. “You look like a perfect