Roman

“Your Majesties,” Lucille and Isabella said in unison with curtsies as we entered the family dining room. The two ladies turned to me. “Your Highness.”

My gaze lingered on Lucille’s stare as a rosy hue filled her cheeks.

Before anyone could respond, Mum stepped forward, her eyes on Isabella. “Oh heavens,” she said, opening her arms to her daughter. “Why wasn’t I told you were back in Molave ...