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made short work of the meal, not even pausing for
conversation. He seemed content to watch her, and she found his eyes constantly
on her to be comforting instead of disconcerting.
    When Anca pushed away her tray with a sigh,
she said, “Thank you. I wouldn’t have known what to order.”
    Demi inclined his head. “I live to serve
you.”
    She jerked at the unexpected phrase, echoed
from her dream. “What?” she demanded stridently.
    He frowned. “Have I offended you?”
    She crinkled the napkin still on her lap
with her fingers. “What made you say that?”
    Demi shrugged. “It’s a common phrase in my
country. People have been using it for thousands of years, in response to
requests from the royal family.”
    Anca sighed with relief. He hadn’t been
mocking her dream. She must be losing her mind if she really believed he had
somehow eavesdropped on the images parading through her brain during her nap.
“I see…” She trailed off. “Do you work for the royal family?”
    He hesitated, and then nodded. “In a manner
of speaking. The king fostered me as a child. I have been,” his brow wrinkled,
as if he was searching for a way to explain, “adopted into the family, I guess
you could say.”
    Anca nodded. “It must be a habit, huh?”
    Demi looked confused. “Pardon, Anca?”
    “To use that phrase.” She grinned at him.
“I’ll have to remember it if we see any royalty during my visit.”
    His eyes widened, and he blinked several
times. His mouth opened and closed, and he took a deep breath. Demi cleared his
throat. “There has been confusion, I think.”
    “How so?”
    “I live at Castle Draganescu, Anca. I serve
your father, as do all Corsovan citizens. In return, he shepherds and guides
us. He is the Protector of our way of life.”
    She shook her head, confused by his flowery
speech. “I don’t understand.”
    “Your father is the ruler of Corsova. Your
mother is the queen, living in exile by her own choice. You are heir to the
throne.”
    Silence filled the compartment as he stopped
speaking. Anca knew her mouth had dropped open, but she couldn’t seem to
concentrate enough to close it. Her eyes felt as though they would bug out of
their sockets. She shook her head. “Uh…”
    “Anca?” His tone was full of concern.
    She shook her head more vigorously. “That’s
crazy.” There was a shrill edge to her voice, and she struggled to restrain it.
“I’m not the heir to anything. I own a tea shop, for goodness’ sakes.”
    Demi spread his hands apart in a gesture of
helplessness. “That may be, but you are also the princess of Corsova, and the
next in line for the throne.” He frowned. “I can’t believe Katrine never told
you.”
    A sharp laugh escaped her. “Mother said my
father was a shepherd.” The laugh changed to a giggle that held a note of
hysteria. “I guess she wasn’t lying completely,” Anca said when the urge to
laugh faded.
    His frown deepened. “I’m certain she had
reasons for not telling you.”
    She shrugged, unable to come up with one or
deal with what she had just learned.
    “It’s better you learn this now, no?”
    “No!” She didn’t have to hesitate. “I don’t
want this kind of burden. Jesus, Demi, don’t you think it’s stressful enough to
meet my father for the first time, without knowing about this added BS?”
    He shook his head. “BS?”
    “Bullshit,” she said very clearly.
    “What does bull excrement have to do with
the situation?”
    The urge to laugh almost overwhelmed her
again, but Anca feared her control was so tenuous that if she gave in, it would
never stop. She would end up booked into a room at some Eastern European
sanitarium. “Never mind,” she said impatiently. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
    “Ah.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you don’t think
I’m here to take over for my father, or some such nonsense. I don’t want any
part of this.”
    “But—“
    Anca pressed on. “I’ve come to meet this
Valdemeer,