Once Upon A Tiara: Once Upon A Tiara / Henry Ever After. Carrie Alexander

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      “AM AW WIDE,” the princess said.

      “She’s all right,” Mrs. Grundy translated.

      “I’b nod awwergick.”

      “She’s not allergic.”

      “Got that one,” Simon said. He’d hustled Lili into the museum to tend to her, leaving the mayor outside to marshal her forces and continue the tea party without the guest of honor. Lili had insisted, smiling a brave smile even though there were tears in her eyes.

      “Here we are,” said Edward Ebelard, who was an RN at the Blue Cloud Medical Clinic and had accompanied them to Simon’s office. He held up an ice pack made from a plastic bag and two pounds of ice chips taken out of the soft-drink machine in the museum snack bar. “Stick out your tongue, dearie.” Edward was thirty, six-three, two-fifty, bearded; to compensate, he spoke like a nurse of the old school.

      Lili stared up at the towering RN with big dark eyes. She looked at Simon. He shot her a thumbs-up. She gave a watery hitch of her chest, then squeezed her eyes shut and stuck out her tongue. The tip was fiery red and swollen to twice its normal size. Or at least what Simon assumed to be its normal size.

      Edward tsk-tsked as he peered at the tongue, poking it with a pencil he’d liberated from the holder on Simon’s desk. He plopped the ice pack on Lili’s tongue.

      Her head wobbled under the sudden weight. “There we are. That will soon take the swelling down, Princess. We’ll be better in no time.”

      Mrs. Grundy grabbed the bag of ice and applied it more gingerly to the princess’s tongue. Lili whimpered softly.

      “Is that all you can do?” Simon asked the RN.

      Edward shrugged. “Yes. Unless she wants to go to the clinic for a shot. But you really only need that if you’re allergic.”

      Lili waved a hand, the lower half of her face obscured by the lumpy bag of ice. “No shaw. No shaw.”

      “No shot,” Simon and Grundy said in unison.

      “She’s not awwergick,” Simon added. The princess crinkled her eyes at him.

      “It will be sore for a few hours, but there should be no lasting effect,” Edward said as Simon showed him out. “I could stay, just in case. I’d be happy to. It’s not every day I have a princess for a patient.”

      “I’ll handle it from here.” Simon shook Edward’s hand. “Thanks for all your help.” He lowered his voice, imagining the lewd spin the tabloid reporters could put on a story about the princess’s red, naked, swollen tongue. “If the reporters ask, you can tell them she was stung by a bee, but keep the details to yourself.”

      Edward inhaled. “Of course. I do have my professional ethics, you know.”

      “Indeed.”

      The RN looked with reverence at the pencil in his hand, the one he’d used on the royal tongue. “Mind if I keep this?” He put it in his shirt pocket. “For a souvenir.”

      “Help yourself.” Simon thanked Edward again, then closed the door behind him and turned back to Princess Lili. She sat on the couch placed against the paneled wall of his office, her head thrown back against the cushions as Mrs. Grundy applied the ice-chip pack to her open mouth. It was already melting. Droplets of water leaked onto her white lace collar, spreading in a large wet patch. There had to be a better way.

      He got a paper cup and plastic spoon from over by the coffee machine in the reception area. Lili was pushing the ice pack away when he returned. “Maw howe mowf—”

      “Your whole mouth is frozen,” Simon said, sitting beside her. “Let’s try this.” He scooped some of the melting ice chips into the cup and fed Lili a spoonful.

      She opened her lips as obediently as a baby bird, looking at him with glistening eyes. “Thank ooh.”

      “You’re welcome. Hold the ice against your tongue until it melts. Is the sting still painful?”

      “Naw so much.”

      “Will you be able to return to the reception, Princess?” Mrs. Grundy asked. “There are a hundred guests waiting to be greeted.”

      Lili nodded dutifully.

      “Give her fifteen minutes,” Simon said. He looked at the older woman, nudging her along with a head bob. “Maybe you could go and report to the mayor? I’m sure Cornelia can delay the program for another fifteen minutes.”

      Mrs. Grundy glanced from one to the other, squinting a skeptical eye. “Princess?”

      Lili shooed her.

      She hesitated. “Rodger’s right outside if you should need his assistance.”

      Simon fed Lili another spoonful of ice chips. “I’m a mild-mannered museum wonk. I assure you, the princess is safe with me.” Grundy, mollified, finally left.

      Lili looked at him and smiled through the ice melting on her tongue. “They thay ith alwayth the quiet one.”

      He waggled his brows, knowing no one with a cowlick and a metallic King Tut tie could ever look dangerous. “You’re talking better. Swelling going down?”

      “Yeth.”

      “More ice?”

      “No, thank you. Already feel like an iceberg.”

      “Would that make me the Titanic?”

      She blinked. “How?”

      “We’ve had one encounter and already you’ve torn off a vital piece of my heart.”

      She was quite fetching when she giggled—her eyes slitted, her cheeks plumped, her wide smile infectious. СКАЧАТЬ