H.R.H.

Sylvie was with her night and day. Max and Sam were glued to her. The heavy security had not yet changed, and when Victoria called and said it would be fun to visit her, Christianna told her bluntly she couldn't come. Her childhood days were over now, she had serious things to do. She began her day in her father's old office at seven, and went straight through until late at night, just as he had.

The only thing that had changed was that Parker was able to call her now. But there was no way she could see him, even for a friendly visit between two old friends. She was single and a reigning princess, and every breath of scandal had to be kept as far away from her as possible. She told him that he couldn't come to visit her, not even for an informal dinner as an old friend she had worked with in Africa, for at least six months.

He wasn't pressing her, in fact he was a constant source of support for her. She called him every night when she finished work, sometimes at midnight for her, which was only six o'clock at night for him. He made her laugh sometimes, and she shared no state secrets with him. As much as the man she loved, he had become her best friend.

The press was also fascinated with her, and took photographs of her every time she left the palace. She found it wearing, but also realized it was part of the landscape for her now. Everything in her life had changed. The only thing that hadn't changed in the past month was the presence of her ever-faithful dog. Charles had become an office fixture now, and the staff jokingly referred to him as the royal dog. He was every bit as mischievous, boisterous, and sometimes badly behaved as he had been before. It was only his mistress who had changed. She worked endless hours, missed her father constantly, and had no time to play or relax. All she could think of now was representing her country and its citizens in the eyes of the world. She began to understand more and more the overwhelming sense of duty her father had felt, and each day she thought of him with ever greater respect and love.

And when she wasn't performing tasks of state, in the weeks after her father's and brother's awful deaths, she had to face painful tasks like going through their personal effects. Her brother's cars were quietly sold. All her father's personal things were stored. She hated walking past his empty rooms, and still felt like an interloper in his office, but she was deeply grateful to his staff for their invaluable support and assistance.

Two days before Christmas she was talking to Parker on the phone, and he had never heard her sound so tired.

“Aren't you going to do something for Christmas, sweetheart? You can't just sit there all alone.” Just hearing the loneliness and exhaustion in her voice made him sad. She had become the lonely princess in the palace in Vaduz. She had no one to spend Christmas with, no family left to be with her. And when he asked her about it, she said that all she was going to do was attend midnight mass. Other than that, even on Christmas Day, she was going to work. She had so much to learn, so much to do, so many things she needed to understand, in order to do an ever better job. She was driving herself too hard, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to help, other than talk to her every night. Their time together in Venice seemed a million years away. The only reminder of it was the little emerald band she always wore.

Parker was spending Christmas with his brother in New York that year. He was too busy with his research project to go to California over the holidays to see his father. And on Christmas Eve, she hadn't had time to speak to him that day. She was planning to call him after midnight mass that night.

She ate a quiet dinner alone, with the dog next to her. Thinking of her father and brother, and the happy times they'd shared, she had a heavy heart and had never felt as alone in her entire life.

Max and Sam went to mass with her, they were always with her now. They had become her personal bodyguards. They were with her in the car as she drove to St. Florin's. In Vaduz that year, it was an icy-cold night. There was snow on the ground, but it had been crystal clear all day, and the air was like needles in her lungs as she got out of the car and walked to the church, wearing somber black and a heavy black hooded coat. Only her beautiful face peeked out.

It was a beautiful mass. The choir sang “Silent Night” in German, and as she listened, tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. It was impossible not to think of the overwhelming losses she had sustained, and the shocking changes in her life in the past month. Even Parker was almost a distant memory now, his existence unreal, a disembodied voice on the phone. He was still the man she loved, but she had no idea when they would meet again, and lying in bed at night, she still longed for his touch.