Who are you? Brie demanded as she pressed her palm against the glass. What are you?

Then, despising herself, she gave in to her despair and wept.

Chapter 2

It wasn’t something she’d do again, Brie told herself as she stepped out of a hot, soothing shower. She wouldn’t bury her face in her hands and cry because things were piling up on her. What she would do, what she would begin to do right now, was to shift them, one at a time. If there were answers to be found, that was the way to find them.

First things first. Brie slipped into the robe she’d found hanging in the closet. It was thick and plush and emerald green. It was also frayed a bit around the cuffs. An old favorite, she decided, accepting the comfort she felt with the robe around her. But the closet had offered her nothing else. Decisively Brie pushed the button and waited for the nurse.

“I want my clothes,” Brie said immediately.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t be—”

“I’ll speak to the doctor if necessary. I need a hairbrush, cosmetics and suitable clothes.” She folded her hands in a gesture that looked commanding, but had more to do with nerves. “I’m going home this morning.”

One didn’t argue with royalty. The nurse curtsied her way out of the room and went directly for the doctor.

“Now what’s all this?” He came bustling into the room, all warmth, all good cheer and patience. She thought of a short, stout brick wall cleverly concealed behind ivy and moss. “Your Highness, you have no business getting up.”

“Dr. Franco.” It was time, Brie decided, to test herself. “I appreciate your skill and your kindness. I’m going home today.”

“Home.” His eyes sharpened as he stepped forward. “My dear Gabriella.”

“No.” She shook her head, denying his unspoken question. “I don’t remember.”

Franco nodded. “I’ve spoken to Dr. Kijinsky, Your Highness. He’s much more knowledgeable about this condition than I. This afternoon—”

“I’ll see your Kijinsky, Dr. Franco, but not this afternoon.” She dipped her hands into the deep pockets of the robe and touched something small and slim. Bringing it out, Brie found herself holding a hairpin. She closed her hand tightly over it, as if it might bring something rushing back. “I need to try to figure this out my way. Perhaps if I’m back where things are familiar to me, I’ll remember. You assured me yesterday after my … father left, that this memory loss is temporary and that other than fatigue and shock, I have no major injuries. If that’s the case, I can rest and recuperate just as well at home.”

“Your rest and recuperation can be monitored more efficiently here.”

She gave him a quiet, very stubborn smile. “I don’t choose to be monitored, Dr. Franco. I choose to go home.”

“Perhaps neither of you remembers Gabriella said the same thing only hours after her tonsils were removed.” Armand stood in the doorway, watching his delicately built daughter face down the tanklike Franco. Coming in, he held out his hand. Though her hesitation to accept it hurt, he curled his fingers gently over hers. “Her Highness will come home,” he said without looking at the doctor. Before Brie could smile, he went on, “You’ll give me a list of instructions for her care. If she doesn’t follow them, she’ll be sent back.”