Page 31 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps, given that my schedule is clear today, Miss Porter wouldn’t mind joining me for a cup of tea.” She smiles at me, and the corners of her eyes wrinkle.

I can’t say no, and she knows it. Not only would it be incredibly rude to refuse such an invitation from Her Majesty the Queen, but professionally, it would blacklist me.

But really, my photos have nothing to do with why she’s asking me.

She’s asking because she recognises me.

I have my miracle.

I swallow the lump in my throat and offer her a gentle smile. “It would be my honour, Your Majesty.”

“Very well.” Her smile reflects in her eyes. “I’ll let you pack up, and I’ll have someone come and get you shortly. Finley, you’ll be joining us once you’ve changed.”

He hesitates, then nods his head. “Of course, Mother.”

“Fabulous.” She claps her hands together in front of her. “I’m looking forward to it.”

CHAPTER SEVEN – HATTIE

“You don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable,” Crown Prince Finley says, looking at me over the top of his cup. “I’m sure you have other things to do. You did say you have to be somewhere this afternoon.”

“It’s fine,” I reply, staring at the green tea being poured into my cup by the maid. “It’s only a personal thing. I can do it another time.”

“Are you sure? My mother won’t mind. You seem a bit nervous.”

“Forgive me, but I was unexpectedly spirited away to the Royal Palace, told that Flynn is actually the Crown Prince of this country, and got invited to tea by the Queen. It might not be strange to you, but for some of us, it’s quite the whirlwind.”

He catches my eye and smiles. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“You’re not upsetting our guest, are you, Finley?” The Queen sweeps into the room with the kind of elegance that can’t be taught. A man who must be pushing his late sixties follows her, and she offers me a wide smile. “Miss Porter, this is my Chief Aide, Rowan. Rowan, this is Hannah Porter. She’s just taken the most wonderful photos of Finley for his birthday.”

I stand and shake his head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“And you, Miss Porter. I look forward to seeing the photos—Her Majesty seems particularly thrilled with them.”

“I’m very pleased to hear so.” I smile, taking my seat again. “Thank you for this invitation, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, of course.” She smiles to the maid who’s pouring her tea. “You may all leave us.”

Everyone other than Rowan filters out of the room, leaving the four of us alone. A hint of awkwardness fizzles through the air, and I reach for my tea. One sip tells me this is bloody good green tea, but my mouth feels too thick to ask which kind it is.

“So, Miss Porter—oh, may I call you Hannah?” Queen Beatrix asks.

I swallow. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Her nose wrinkles with her playful smile. “When did you get into photography?”

“Oh, um.” I pause and set down my teacup. “I was around twelve years old and was given a camera by a… family friend,” I say carefully. “They taught me basic functions, and I fell in love with photography.”

It isn’t a complete lie.

The family friend was less of a friend and more of a creditor to the woman who looked after me and the other kids, and while I did fall in love, it certainly didn’t happen overnight.

More like after I’d taken over a thousand photos to be sold as postcards for a pittance to help Sayana pay back her loans.

The Queen didn’t need those details, though.