Chapter Fourteen
Her bodyguard stood a good distance from her (odd how these guys disappear and re-appear at the author's convenience, huh?) but he was there. He waited patiently for the girl.

Possession and distribution of narcotics.
"Why Greg?" Laura asked. The phone device used to talk through the sound proof glass was held to her ear by a french-manicured hand.
She bit her lower lip and will him to look at her. He seemed to have grown older in the few hours since the pizza parlor. His hair a bit untidy. The thin gray uniform hung limply on his body. A shadow over his face. He was right in front of her. Why did he seem so far away?
Greg rubbed the tip of his finger on a spot on the counter. His eyes stayed focus on that spot. "When you have to look out for yourself you learn to survive anyway you can. I learned to survive this way," Greg told her. Rub. Rub.
This isn't your way, Laura wanted to tell him.
What was that look she was giving him? Those thin elegant eyebrows raised to meet the other in the middle of her forehead. Her delicate lower lip, glistening with gloss, pouting in a frown. As if she knew what it was like to need money? How dare she look at him like that! Rub. Rub. Rub.
Laura didn't know what to say. If only he'd look at her.
Greg raised his head. Those eyes searched him with female sensitivity.
He was blinded by the whiteness of her dress. He began to notice the specks of dirt under his fingernails and he stopped rubbing.
How could he ever have thought that there was a connection between the two of them. He crossed his hands over his chest and looked away. She was probably just having her fun with him. He could just imagine her going to her snob friends in her expensive school and them giggling in a circle. She'd go home and laugh with her brothers about how a peasant like him was stuck in this stinkhole...
Laura angled her head. Was he going to cry? Don't cry, Greggie. Please don't. She raised her hand to touch him... then remembered the glass.
Greg let out a breath. He looked at her again. Why didn't she leave? Didn't she have some starving orphans to pose with or something?
The hand that held the reciever shook slightly. Her tongue moistened her dry lips. "Do you --" She began. "-- Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"What?" Greg's hands dropped from their defensive position. What kind of a question was that to ask at a time like this? He looked around the room.
Laura stayed mute.
Greg sighed, giving in. "I have a -- was supposed to have -- a sister."
Me, Laura thought, looking down, then back up.
" -- But she died before she was born."
"Your mom..." Something in Laura was afraid but she went on anyway.
"What does your mom say about this?"
Hesitation. He threw up his hands. "What is it about you and my mom?"
"I want to know," Laura said simply, bracing herself. Death during labor...?
"She's dead --"
Laura closed her eyes.
"-- She's been dead for over eight years. A car accident and --" he stood up, "Hey!  You said you wanted to know!" he called to the princess fleeing from the room.
Greg sat back down in the hard wood chair. Maybe he shouldve been nicer to her... After all she did come to visit him... No. He was a commoner. One with a record to boot. She was England's princess. It never would've worked out.
The cops re-entered the room. Greg stood back up again, turned around and held his hands behind him for them to handcuff. He was led away to his cell. He shook his head. "Royals," he mumbled.

Laura ran and didn't stop till she was out of the building. She coughed and choked London's cold air back into her lungs. She found herself holding onto a street lamppost for dear life.  The harsh pungent metal dug into her skin. Her cheek rested against it and she slid down onto the pavement. It couldn't be true! It couldn't be true! What Greg said about their mom...
"Are you all right, Princess?" he bodyguard came down the front steps after  her. He held her forgotten shawl in his hands.
Laura lifted her head up to the familiar face.
The guard stood near her and bent down. He saw her red eyes and streaked face. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his jaw tightening. He looked back at the building. "If he did I promise he'll pay for disturbing you so greatly. I--"
Laura slowly wobbled onto her feet. She shook her head violently and wiped her tears away with stiff fingers. "No. No." She sniffled. She took her shawl from him. As regally as she could she said, "Please, just take me back to the Palace."
"All right. All right," the guard escorted her and gently placed her in the car. "I'll bring you home."

"Where have you been!" Charles yelled once she stepped through the door.
She locked the door behind her. Oh, Papa, she thought and tried to go to her room. "I don't want to talk about it..."
"Oh, yes we will talk about it!" the father figure commanded. "You are not the only member of this family, young lady!"
Upon hearing that their sister was home Harry and William ran out of their rooms.
William looked at Laura worriedly, "Papa, go easy on her."
Charles shot him a look.
William bit his lower lip and Laura knew he wasn't going to defend her anymore for the night.
"Where were you?" Charles demanded his daughter once again.
Laura sighed, but said nothing. She was just going to stand and absorb whatever was being said to her. She didn't have energy for anything else.
"I told you to come straight to the Palace. What were you doing? Who were you with? You didn't go visit that boy did you? Because I don't think my daughter would do an utterly ridiculous move. Not after what I saw tonight on the news..."
Damnit, Dad! I guess me arriving home safe doesn't count for ANYTHING? Laura thought.
Charles lecture was cut off as the front door opened and an angry Diana stormed in.
"Mum," William spoke up. "I thought you were in France."
Look at this. The family together again, Laura thought wryly.
"Terrific parenting, Charles," Diana hissed at her husband.
"At least I was here," the Prince retaliated. "In the words of our eldest child, Diana. Weren't you in France?"
"I leave my daughter with you and in less than two weeks and you have her going out with a drug dealer!" Diana shouted at Charles.
"She gets her bad taste in men from you!" Charles lashed out.
"Bad taste indeed! I married you, didn't I?"
"Too bad we're still married."
"Is that a problem Charles?" Diana screamed. "Let's see -- Christmas is when? Two weeks? Well, Merry Christmas, my darling husband, we're getting divorced!"

Chapter Fifteen
Years later.
A 20-year-old William walked into the Paris restuarant. He took off his hat and coat (disguise as well as protection from Europe's autumn weather) and hung them at their respective racks near the door. His off-white winter-scarf remained untied over his shoulders.
The place smelled of classic cigarettes and ripe wine. William had his hands in his pockets and searched the well-dress crowd for the face he was looking for.
Laura waved to him from the bar. She was wearing a short designer black dress and her stockinged legs were crossed and swaying from the edge of the barstool temptingly. An enchanting smile was her greeting.
She doesn't know how dynamite she looks, William thought coming towards her.
"Hello," Laura brushed against his face and made a kiss noise when cheek contacted cheek. "Missed you so!" A cocktail glass was held in one hand. "Where's father?" She brought him to their reserved table.
"Papa couldn't come," William apologized, sitting in front of her.
"...Because he thought mum was coming," Laura completed the sentence.
She called a waiter over and ordered a drink for William. "Chilled glass, no ice."
William looked over Laura's shoulder at the direction of the powder room. "Is she?" he raised one eyebrow.
Laura shook her head.
"Because she thought Papa was coming," William sighed.
Laura shrugged, as they exchanged consoling smiles.
"Harry has exams in Uni, so it's just us." William thanked the waiter for his glass.
"So..." Laura fought for words, her bare shoulders raised as she leaned closer. "Mum is getting married."
"I know... read it in the paper." William smiled sheepishly. He mocked questioned. "Am I invited?"
At this, Laura giggled, raising one hand to her lips, yet not covering her smile.
She acts so much like mum, William thought, taking the table napkin and placing it over his lap. Using another tone he treaded carefully. "Are you seeing anyone at Uni or are you still hug-up on that Greg from years back?"
Laura caressed the neck of her glass. When Greg got out, she had hoped he'd ring her and they'd start anew. He didn't. She had written him letters though she never got a response back. For a while tabloids juicily supplied the public with headlines such as "Royal Bird in love with Jailbird" and "Paper-torn Love Letters; Heart-torn Princess."
William looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Just in case, he came closer to Laura and lowered his voice. "Not every guy you date is going to be Greg. You know that don't you?"
"... Or Robert? Or Jonathan?" Laura enumerated.
"So long ago, Sis."
Laura returned the uncomfortability. "How about you, Bro?" she demanded.
"You call being with a Barbie lookalike every two weeks being with someone?"
"Hey," William defended, leaning back. "At least I put myself out there."
To this, Laura had no retort for. She played with the plastic straw. Up and down. Up and down it bobbed in the drink. "C'mon, Bro," Laura sighed. "The only guy who'd be able to treat me straight with all this protocol BS would be you."
William winked jokingly. "I guess you're just gonna have to marry me then."
"Oh, William..."
The waiter returned and brother and sister ordered.

*         *         *

Harry looked at the clock on the wall then back at the thick open book in front of it. He had been staring at the same page for the last fifteen minutes and the words were begiining to swim. He re-scanned the last six pages and couldn't forget what he read from any of it. "Forget it," he mumbled, running his fingers through his red hair.  He closed the book and it slammed shut like a tomb closing.
He yawned, stretched his long limbs, and went to bed.

*           *            *

Diana looked over the wedding magazine andd gazed at the dresses.
On the TV a late night soap was on which held her attention till the next commercial break came on.
Dodi was in another room on the phone.

*          *          *

Charles took off his glasses and shoved the papers that held his speeches for the next day. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a leftover chicken leg and knawed on it for a midnight snack. He thought about Henry the Eighth. He looked down at his belly, worried. He finished it to the bone, threw it in the trash, then washed his hands. He called Camilla and they said their fond goodnights and he headed towards his bedroom to retire for the night. The phone rang and it was his mother. This resulted in him staying up another half hour listening to some gripe she had about Prince Phillip's arthritis.

*            *            *

William winked at the girl in the other table and smiled when she blushed.
Laura stared at the dessert on her plate. A thin slice of rich chocolate cake. She pushed it away.
"Why are you like that?" William asked.
"Like what?" Laura asked distractedly. At his look she answered, "I just think you deserve more than a tryst."
There was that expression again. The kind girl-fans threw at him here and abroad. William decided to be straight with his little sister. "Look Laura, you're a great sibling and a good friend to me..."
Laura's brows went together. What was he getting at? Laura laid her napkin beside her plate.
" -- But we're brother and sister."
"What?!"she lowered her voice. "What?"
William rolled his eyes. "I know you've been hurt by guys and I know I'm... attractive to the opposite gender." he added. "So are you--"  The fusion of brows became more intense. He was losing her. "But we can't think about inter-family relations. Sure, Mum and Papa are fourth-cousins but this is getting a bit taboo."
"Are you talking about --" She looked around. This was a weird coversation to be eavesdropping on.
"I'm worried Laura. Should we get you therapy?"
Damn that wine that was loosening his tongue to this extent. "Wills, it's not like that," Laura protested.
"Then what's it like? I see the way you look at me." The voice of Harry entered his mind. 'You're so conceited Wills!' He sighed.
"What am I supposed to think?" He grasped her wrists. "We'll find a private facility--"  He had a desperate, confused look in his eyes.
Laura grabbed his hands away. She blurted out. "Oh how I wish you could understand!"
In a split second the expression on Wills face changed. He blinked and pushed his chair back.
Laura placed a hand over her mouth. "Oh my! What have I done?"
Meanwhile, Wills looked down at the floor. Then at Laura. he repeated this action several times."Y-you're not really my sister..." were the first quiet words out of his mouth.
Laura shook her head. Her hand dropped to lap.
"You made a wish..." Wills continued slowly.
Laura nodded.
"Your mother. Your brother," Wills said. He knew of their tragic fate.
"Yes."
Wills hugged her tightly. Not a hug a brother gives a sister. "You gave up your life for me?" he looked into her eyes. "Why Laura? Why?"
"I-It wasn't- It wasn't just for you," Laura struggled to explain again. "The world I knew- So many bad things happened. I thought if I stayed here I would be able to prevent it. I thought it was my duty."
Wills smiled at her. "You're more Windsor than you realize." He looked at her again, still stunned from the secrets he now knew.
She had been willing to burden herself with the weight of the world so that other people would still believe in the fairytale. "I love you," he expressed.
Laura was taken back. "Wills, you're not thinking straight. You-"
The rest of the sentence was dissolved in a kiss.
He kissed her on the lips. It was crushing and deep. And it let go of emotions Laura had been hiding too long. Far too long.
This was wrong. This was wrong, a part of her brain told her. He's your brother! But it was quieted by this need to be held by Wills. To be kissed by Wills.
They drew apart.
They looked in each other's eyes.
It was right, they knew.
Then a photographer's camera flashed.
NEW MEANING OF BROTHERLY LOVE! was the excitedly hoped for headline.
Wills cursed beneath his breath.
Laura was still in a trance from the kiss she wasn't thinking straight. "W-what?"
Wills grabbed her hand. "C'mon!"
They ran so fast through the restaurant they lost thier bodyguards.
They went out the back exit, Wills grabbed the keys from the shocked valet,  and Laura and Wills hopped in the car. Wills drove off.
Laura looked behind them. There was the paparazzi on motorcycles.
She suddenly felt fear. Why did this seem all familiar?
"Damn!" Wills cursed, increasing the car's speed. "I have to lose them."
Why was it all familiar? Why was it all familiar? Laura thought panickedly. She must remember. Something in her knew it was important.
The restaurant... Paris... being chased by the paparazzi...
"You can't change fate," a voice said beside her.
"Ack! Jory," Laura noticed him. She wondered if Wills was going to look at her weird for talking to herself again. but he was concentrating on getting away from the photographers.
"The rise of Windsor will fall, and it will only be redeemed by a death of one of its members," Jory repeated what he said long ago.
Laura understood now. It was going to happen on this night. The same way it happened in another time. "Who?" she demanded. "Who? Me or Wills? Me or Wills? Jory, tell me!"
But he disappeared.
"Great," she muttered. She realized they weren't wearing seatbelts.
She immediately put hers on. "Wills, put on your seatbelt!" she ordered.
"I'm driving at ninety miles an hour and you expect me to put my seatbelt on?" he yelled. Laura worried at the most trivial things.
Her eyes went to the speedometer. "Slow down then!" Laura pleaded.
"If I slow down they'll catch up to us!" Wills yelled.
They were approaching the tunnel. That fateful tunnel.
"Wills-"
They crashed into the post.

"Laura...Laura..." a voice called.
It was Diana's voice.
Laura opened her eyes slowly. She slowly looked around the room.
Everything was so hazy. Her eyes focused on the face above her. Diana. Laura blinked.
"She's awake," Diana informed the people in the room.
Charles leaned, concerned over the bed. His wife and he had set aside their differences for this time. "How are you, Honey?" Charles stroked Laura's face. "Are you all right?"
"Laura," Harry whispered her name. He only looked at her. There was love and sadness in his eyes.
Wills! Wills! Laura tried to say but because of the tubes in her mouth she only managed a gurgle.
"What is it? What do you need?" both parents rushed to her aid.
The tears in her eyes sent the message when words could not.
Charles and Diana looked at each other.
It was Diana who spoke. "Wills didn't make it. It happened instantly--"
No! No! the word screamed in Laura's mind. She silently begged Diana not to go on.
"Laura, your brother's dead."

Chapter Sixteen
Laura stayed in the room reserved for her at Buckingham and waited for them to call her to the gate.
She could hear the mumrmurs of people at the fence. "Can you see them?" "No, not yet." "When will the be coming out?" "Soon I hope. My feet are killing me." "Same here. Want a bite of my burger?" "Thanks. have some of my soda."
Laura looked at her own black heels. For fashion's convenience Diana, Charles and Harry were going to ride in an open carriage. The cast on her left arm was heavy and hung on the sling that looped around her neck. The simple black dress made by the most recent designer and chosen by Diana had short sleeves that stopped half-way down her upper arm. A black jacket was over her shoulders worn like a shawl. Laura stared ahead and blinked.
She had experienced a world without Diana. Now she was experiencing the world without Wills. Her thoughts transferred from what she had seen and what she was seeing. She had heard about Diana's death at school. She had heard about Wills's death in that hospital bed as she was fighting for her life. She had been one of millions caught up in a shared understood loss. Now she felt alone and felt that no one could understand; not even Harry who was supposed to be closest to her, being her twin. Before she had watched the funeral, waiting anxiously cross legged on a rug in front of a TV eating ice-cream.
Now? Now she was going to have to go through those double doors and into that carriage that would take her to Westminister Abbey...
Harry walked into the room. "Laura?"
Laura looked up, mute.
"It's time."

Umbrellas were used to protect the royal family from the light rain pouring from heaven. How different it was from that sunny day of another time that only she could remember... It would've been more practical to use a closed carriage but then again, so would having a private ceremony instead of this public display.
Laura had chosen to take the seat looking away from the lead-lined black coffin. It was being rolled on an old-fashioned army wagon. The wheels audibly creaked as it rolled down the road in calculated pace. Laura would've liked to wince at the agonizing sound but that wouldn't look very good on camera, would it?
If she turned around she knew what she would see. Long stemmed purple irises laid diagonally across the sleek curved top. Not fanned out white lillies.
An envelope with cursive declaration of: My Son -- made wet and spidery from the unforseen droplets. It contained a card which only Diana knew the contents of. Not the simple print of a child's hand child: Mummy.
Laura made the mistake of looking up.
Flash! came the familiar snap.
Laura blinked and had the great urge to rub out the red dots floating in front of her.
The carriage stopped.
They had arrived at Westminster Abbey.

Laura took her seat in the front pew.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Diana made sure Laura was comfortable with her cast.
Laura nodded. Her eyes surveyed the historic building. She could've sworn she saw Jory. In the first row of pews in the right wing. Or was it the row of pews behind them? Laura shakily sat down.
"Honey, you're looking pale," Charles was already seated. "Harry, help your sister."
Harry obeyed.
The choir stopped singing the entrance hymn. The bishop stood in front and began the sermon. The entire world watched.
When the time came, Diana took her place in front of the church and said the eulogy. "Charles wanted the name Arthur. I wanted the name William." Diana smiled at the memory. "I won."
Polite laughter.
She stalled before heading on. "His nickname became Wills. Quite appropriate of due to his willful nature and willingness to participate in the challenges of his life." She looked at the front row where her other children stood. The sight of them gave her much needed stength.
"William," Diana said his name clearly, "is indescribable. Indescribable in the sense that anything I tell you about him would not even give you a glimpse at what a wonderful person he is. Instead I chose a poem. It's by Rudyard Kipling and I hope that I give William justice in describing him this way:"

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowances for all their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
and yet don't look too good, nor talk to wise;

How the poem did fit, Laura thought.
Keep your head -- William never losing his cool and being strong for her and Harry when he himself needed someone to be strong for him, and there was no one.
Trust yourself when all men doubt you -- in school and in polo games.
She heard the jealous ignorant voices whisper around her brother, "They'll only let him in because his last name is Windsor."  "They'll let him win the match because he's a prince." Then he'd go on the field and on stage and shine by his own merit.
Waiting -- waiting for a crown. Waiting for fate. His destiny.
Lies -- Rumours. All those tabloid rumors.
Look too good -- Laura thought of his blushing cheeks and shy smile.
Or that cocky smile... Our apologies, Kipling. It couldn't have been helped.
Nor talk  wise -- with a mastered British accent could this be achieved?

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools;

Bear the trusth youve spoken/ Twisted by knaves -- The tabloids again.

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force you heart, and nerve, and sinew
To serve your term long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except that Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

Chile, Laura thought of his gap year. And his conversations with Mum about her charities...

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;

That bastard of a friend in Eton who wanted to do a tell-all on him. Ran to the tabloids bearing private pictures, no less. Richard what's his name?
There was that boy in the crowd some royal walkabout in the past who spit on Wills' face.

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

The words resounded throughout the Abbey.
In Laura's mind other words came. Words for another funeral. And grief for another person "... Now you belong to heaven and the stars spell out your name... Loveliness we've lost you these empty days without your smile... The torch we'll always carry for our nation's golden child."

When Diana was finished with her speech she came down the steps into Charles' arms. He wasn't the enemy today. Today he was the father of her son. A son they loved together. A son they brought up together and lost together.
Laura felt her throat tighten up. She wasn't going to cry. Royals weren't allowed to cry. And she was royal.
Beside her, tears were already streaking down Harry's cheeks.
She held his hand. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to cry. She had to be strong. Strong for the world whose grief she bore on her chest. She wasn't going to cry.
Charles led Diana back to her seat.
Diana was sobbing quietly on  his shoulder.
Laura felt her lip tremble. Not going to cry. Not going to cry, she vowed. He wasn't my real brother! She made her brain remind her in one last desperate attempt not to care.
"Papa," Harry called.
Charles included him in the hug for his mother.
Laura looked in thier direction. Faint surprise came.
Charles was crying too.
Forget protocol! Laura abandoned, running to them, hugging them tightly and shedding her own forbidden tears.

From the ovehead balcony where no one could see him, Jory stood his weight on the wooden divider. He wore attire to match the occasion. Black turtleneck, gray trenchcoat... which is more than one can say for the torusists outside of the church. His eyes stayed on Laura the whole ceremony. He was sure she saw him. Deciding on what to do he disappeared and left.

Chapter Seventeen
"Is that the last of it?" Harry asked as he hauled out the last box into the back of the car.
"I think so," Laura said. In her hand she held the African bracelets William had always worn.
Harry looked at them and at Laura. Brother and sister didn't need words.
The arrangement was Harry -- being the next king of England -- was now living with Charles. Tabloids blasted headlines like GEE, WE NEEDED THE SPARE AFTER ALL and WE NEED MORE HEIR IN THE SPARE at Harry's reluctance to slide into his older brother's former position.
Laura lived with Diana. Two and two. One for each of them. How mathematical.
"Laura," Harry's hand was in hiatus position of slamming the back door shut. "You're my twin... but he's my other half, you know?"
Laura understood.
Sighing, Harry got around and into driver's seat of the car and closed the door. "I'll bring this to Buckingham. They'll give it to charity or place it in storage." He paused. "Auntie Anne is talking with Papa about William's horses for Zara, right?"
Laura confirmed this.
With the turn of the key and rev of the engine, Harry Windsor was gone.
Laura went back into St. James. Her own keys were outlined the front pocket of her smart trousers. She returned to the vacant room she and Harry were just in. Amazing how what took a lifetime to fill only took an afternoon to empty. She leaned on the wooden doorframe, the smell the scent of damp lumber. There was no heavy curtain hung on the window. The glass was decorated with water spots and rain streaks. A door opened into the room leading to a closet. Nothing there except some few forgotten wire hangers. No mattress, just the wooden frame and headboard. The walls stark bare. One could see the where the occupant tacked nails into the simple beige wallpaper. A vanity table. The drawers were closed. Laura remembered the blue sweaters, blue buttoned down shirts, and blue jeans. The drawers were empty now. She ran her hands down the dresser's edge. The smooth varnished surface where bottles of cologne and aftershave used to stand. She saw her reflection in the mirror. No William.
Something caught the corner of her eye. Approaching the bed she bent over and used her nails to free what seemed to be like papers wedged between the frame and the wall. They ended up to be photographs. William grooming his horse before apolo match. William in a bandana with a group of guys. If she remebered correctly they were imitating some Eminem video. William at a beach with his date for the weekend.
She looked fabulous in a hot pick bikini. Laura let the pictures fall to the floor. She stared at the bracelets in her hand.
William.
William.
William.
She sobbed in her hands. This went on for a bit.
"Don't," Jory appeared beside her. He was on the bed frame, feet on the base, knees bent so he could be level with her. His face held compassion for the princess.
"Go away," she turned from him.
"You're going to wish for your old life back..." Jory let out a breath, his jaw set. "Don't."
"Why not," Laura demanded through a clogged nose. Her eyes were puffy and red.
"You can't."
"What?" She turned away again.
"You said you'd use your last wish to set me free."
Laura looked up. I did? A faint memory stirred.
"I've been more than fair. I've given you an adjustment period. I given you time for closure."
I still don't have it, Laura thought. She gripped the bracelets.
"You owe me, Princess." Jory stated.
Light streamed in despite the cloudy window. William's face smiled from the pictures on the floor. The feel of the African bands in her hand were potent. "What happens," Laura asked Jory. "If I don't..."
Jory's eyes grew wide. "You promised!"
"And as a princess it would be me my duty as a princess to keep that promise, wouldn't it?"
"Yes" the answer came through gritted teeth. Tightened fists. "Nothing is going to happen." He informed. "It's just that... it would be nice..." What he expected of her hung in the air.
"Jory..." Laura took a deep breath and let it out. She could feel it on her eyelashes.
The genie braced himself.