And just like that, concern replaced his annoyance. “I’m fine, princess.” He must’ve seen the doubt in her eyes, because he came back to her. “You don’t have to apologize for your life. You just need to give me a little time to find my way here. I promise you, before long, I’ll have a couple projects going and everything will be good.” He kissed her mouth and walked out the door.

But he was wrong. It wouldn’t be good. They were both dying here.

Something had to change.

She knocked on her parents’ bedroom door. “Mama?”

“Yes, dear. Come in.”

She found the prince and princess of St. Christophe tucked into their big bed under a deep blue comforter. Wearing silk pajamas and reading glasses, they both had piles of paperbacks on their nightstands, and each was engrossed in a book. Her father, a science geek like her, was reading about mineral deposits in the Alps, while her mother read something for her book club.

Her father lowered his reading glasses. “Everything all right?”

“I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a pickle.”

“Americans have the strangest expressions.” Her father sounded amused.

“They do. So, you know I meant every word I said to parliament, and I’m honored and so pleased the vote came out on the right side of justice.”

“Yes, and we’re just so very excited for you to become Head of State,” her mother said. “So excited, that your father’s decided to retire early.”

“Tomorrow, in fact,” her father said. “I’ve enjoyed this six-week hiatus so much, and you’ve done such a bang-up job handling everything in my absence…you might as well carry on.”

“This isn’t funny.” They were joking, right? He couldn’t just retire and leave her to run a nation.

“Quite the opposite,” her father said. “It’s invigorating, really.” He tipped his chin, peering at her over his glasses. “Do you mind if I take over the lab? I’d like to turn it into my man cave.”

Her mom elbowed him. “Get a big screen TV so we can watch the rest of that BBC series we started.”

“Already ordered. I’d like a Barcalounger myself, with cup holders.” He nudged his wife right back. “You?”

“Do they have ones with coolers? I do hate when my wine spritzers grow warm.”

Rosalina grinned. “You two are nuts.”

Her mother set down her book. “Darling, this life is not for you.”

She perked up. “Is that terrible?”

“Do you think we know you so little?” Her father set his book down. “Come.”

She crawled onto the mattress, the way she’d done so many times as a child. Settling between her parents, she breathed in the most familiar scents in the world. Her mom’s hand lotion had hints of lavender and vanilla, and her father’s spicy, rich, masculine soap scent infused his pajamas.