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Chapter One
Princess in the Glass Tower
Princess Marisol Annette Maria Victoria Alonda Duvaingnon of Dalyasia spent her early ht in her father’s honor in her suite at the Grand Wedgwood Hotel The venerable establishment was one of the oldest and ritziest Manhattan residences that housed a wealthy international clientele
She didn’t have all the details of tonight’s event Her father was extremely busy on this rare trip to New York City and didn’t brief her on the particulars Her social secretary, Countess Guerin, was similarly thin on details, but Marisol was prepared to represent her country as was expected of her
This trip to New York was an unexpected treat Marisol was rarely allowed out of Europe Her father was even reluctant to let her visit the British Isles for some reason that wasn’t explained, but as part of the trip, Marisol was given a brand neardrobe of couture clothes froners
Maria, her maid, held up the custo Fashion week haute couture design It was hand-enerous proportions Her mother enes from an older and more voluptuous version of her th which accentuated length over width, and a hearty old, a color most women couldn’t wear, but Marisol’s dark skin color looked lu with the silver and black of the e She especially liked the extra-long draped sleeves that looked like folded angel wings and the elaborate embroidery down the front and the arms in motifs of Dalyasia’s royal crest
The shoes were handmade in the same color as the dress The heels were three-inch spikes, which added lengthening to Marisol’s aure Her ht’s occasion and as part of the treatold shimmer would be applied to her neck and face and ankles
“Oh, eous” Maria was usually over enthusiastic, but today she was nearly rabid “What wig shall you wear tonight?”
This was precisely what Marisol considered Her natural hair was kinky, thin, and all together unsuitable for public display Maria had pulled out a half-dozen hand-hboy in Marisol’s bedroom The princess looked over the different styles There were several styled in elaborate updos, one bob, and two long styles One was shoulder-length The other would hang to her shoulder blades
“The very long one, Maria”
“Are you sure It’s a dinner party and—”
“Are you second guessing me, Marie?”
“No, your Grace Sorry, your Grace”
“Fine, then put all this away for tonight”
“Yes, your Grace”
At thatit was her friend Antoinette, she answered
“I’ht now,” said Antoinette “Not only are you in fabulous New York City, but your father announced your engagement How dare you not tell me? Was it a state secret?”
“Excuse
“Are you not excited? Tristan Vattakov! He is so very handsoirl wants him”
Tristan Vattakov? Marisol knew her father was in negotiations with Tristan’s father, King Stepan Vattakov Both Vattakov men had reputations as womanizers She had no interest in the prince
“Not me”
“Why ever not? He’s a royal plu to be plucked You’re so lucky Can I be your maid-of-honor? It must be me I’ll die if you won’t let me”
“Where did you hear this?” Marisol was sure her ditzy friend ossip and blew it out of proportion
“It’s in all the news, silly It came out in today’s reports”
“Guerin,” Marisol snapped to her secretary in the next room “Get me a copy of the newspapers All of them!”
Antoinette prattled on until Marisol told her she had to go Guerin handed her several copies of today’s news, and she tore through the papers until she found ts items
One in the business section, with a picture of her father and King Stepan Vattakov shaking hands and s, announced the end of her country’s economic problems This was to be done with the influx of money froov, a former satellite of the defunct USSR
The na It wasn’t a republic at all but a representative monarchy Marisol was educated to know these fine differences She was, after all, a king’s daughter No, the will of the people didn’t rule Kreigov, but the power and influence of one ion of Kreigov stabilized with the return of the long-exiled royal family In the twenty-five years since Vattakov took over the reigns of government he transformed a small, poverty-ridden state into one of the wealthiest nations in the region
He did it with two things—oil and a ruthless approach to business
The second article was on the Society page Marisol shook with inchoate rage as she stared at a state publicity photo of herself and a similar photo of Prince Tristan Vattakov, heir to the throne of Kreigov The announceardens of Dalyasia
; No wonder the King was having the gardens overhauled She’d thought it a terrible expense for a country struggling to survive, but her father insisted it needed to be done Now she understood He had this, the trip, the new clothes—obviously a wedding trousseau—and the redo of the palace garden planned in advance No doubt there was a wedding planner in the wings waiting to fawn over Marisol Hell, her wedding dress was probably being worked on now
My father didn’t even tell me
She’d never e to do so The prince was al of lovers, elaborate, glitzy parties, ga If his father didn’t have a stranglehold on the oil production in his corner of the world, Tristan would be politely ignored Instead he was feted and lionized as the wealthy oil baron his father was
She stared down to the street watching the ain a ood on this day when the world shifted and tilted under her feet
Instead she stood her staring out of this , gazing at people she would never know, doing things that she would never be allowed to experience
Married Now she could expect no freedom of movement at all
“Is she?” said a fa room of her suite
“Yes, Highness,” replied Countess Guerin
Did she ietic? No The
“Yes,” she said
“Goodto speak, ah You’ve seen the news”
“Yes, Father,” she said coldly
“You’ll not take that tone with non Sometimes a monarch has to make some difficult choices”
“Yes,” she said bitterly “Like hter to a famous womanizer”
“I hardly think the prince is that bad Besides, his father assuresforward to e”
Marisol spun toward her father “He is nearly twice h to be my father”
“Thirty-eight isn’t old, Marisol, and there was a sie difference between your mother and me”
Yes, thought Marisol, but Mother u had spoken, and Princess Marisol was to follow his coain
You’ll attend secondary school in Switzerland, not America
You’ll take an extra language, not art
You’ll go to the Sorbonne, not Trinity University
You’ll vacation in the Riviera, not the Seychelles
The list of what Marisol could and couldn’t do stretched back to her childhood, far before her mother died when she elve It didn’t ht was her best interests It was intolerable
She turned, biting her lip, and looked down at the bustling New York City Street
My ht I have family here somewhere
The thought was tantalizing In her own country, despite the fact she was its crown princess, her dark coloring, courtesy of her mother, set her apart There was no face she could look at and say, “Yes, I’m part of these people”