§ § § - March 25, 2000
Leslie tried to put off talking to Roarke as long as possible. She was convinced he wouldn't approve of Christian's getting involved in Athena's fantasy, and kept mentally quailing at facing his almost certain wrath. But if Christian was under Athena's influence, how else could she tear him away before the weekend ended—particularly if she wanted to keep his distant mien from turning into something more complicated?
But then, to her startled chagrin, she ran into Roarke at the hotel, where he was just checking on the evening's menu with Kazuo. "How goes it?" he asked with a smile.
She knew what he meant. "Well, it seems Athena's very happy so far," Leslie said carefully. "She got the attention of a group of folks out on the green, and it looked to me as if she had them eating out of her hand."
"Indeed," said Roarke, chuckling, then frowned slightly and glanced behind her as if expecting someone else. "What happened to Christian?"
Oh no…I knew he was going to notice. Leslie cleared her throat. "Uh…he's helping Athena."
"Helping her?" echoed Roarke suspiciously.
"Worse than that," Leslie rushed on, hoping to get to the actual problem without having to retrace the path that had taken them there, "I think she's doing something to him. You know how he normally keeps to himself and generally goes on as if he's just another ordinary human being. Well, ever since Athena's fantasy started, he's been…weird. It's like he's suddenly remembered he's a prince, and he's acting all distant and cold, as though I were merely another subject of his or something."
Roarke regarded her. "So he is merely assuming his royal role. Perhaps that's normal for him, Leslie. After all, you have never seen him in his own country, living his normal life."
"That's not Christian," Leslie said flatly. "If Anna-Kristina were here, she'd say the same thing."
Roarke shook his head a little. "I think you'd better take me to where you left Athena, Leslie. It sounds to me as if there's something you aren't telling me."
She still didn't elaborate on their way to the green, and Roarke didn't press the issue, but the silence was uncomfortable. They parked near the teahouse and went to the little temple Leslie had assigned to Athena for the weekend; and there was the goddess, now seated on a small marble throne apparently blessing a long line of people one by one. Leslie searched for Christian, but he didn't appear to be anywhere in sight.
Roarke put a hand between her shoulder blades and gently prodded her forward, making straight for the temple. Athena saw them coming and beamed. "Roarke! You've worked wonders here. Just look at all these people! There, my dear, go well." This last she addressed to an elderly woman who had limped up to her on a cane; as Roarke and Leslie watched with wide eyes, the delighted woman walked away on two good feet, tossing her cane aside.
"Very nice, Athena," Roarke said, managing to hide all but a trace of dubiousness, "but are you quite certain it's wise to so blatantly display your powers?"
"How else will I win converts?" Athena asked logically, and Roarke's expression reflected his reluctant concession of her point. "Is there something I can do for you, perhaps?"
"Yes, where is Prince Christian?" Roarke asked point-blank.
"Who? Oh, you mean that young man who was with me. He left here some little time ago. Looked rather ill. I offered to take care of it for him, but he refused and left. Gracious, Roarke, he seemed nice enough when you first introduced him, but I have to wonder what your daughter sees in him. He's had his nose in the air for some time, and when he left here it was out of joint. No idea where he went. Ah, you poor thing, let me take care of that for you." She traced a finger down the wart-adorned nose of a middle-aged man, and like magic the wart was gone.
"Thank you, my goddess, and all praise to you," the man said, bowing deeply, then backed out of the temple to allow the next person in line to move up.
"Did you see which way he went?" Leslie asked insistently.
"Sorry, dear. Maybe you should try the main house," Athena suggested. "And Roarke, again, thank you. I daresay I'm your most satisfied customer. If I can do anything for you, just name it."
Roarke glanced at Leslie, quirked the most fleeting of smiles and requested dryly, "If you can manage it in between blessings, Athena, both Leslie and I would greatly appreciate it if you could see to it that Christian is brought back here."
"I told you, I don't know where he is," said Athena, puzzled.
"Not like that," Leslie said. "Do it the way you did the, uh…the…you know."
Athena squinted at her, then brightened. "Oh, of course, as with the bananas. You might want to step aside, my dear." Leslie edged behind Roarke, and Athena raised her right hand high in the air, doubled up her fist and pointed her index finger at the ground, then swept her arm down in one swift motion, at the same time calling out something in Greek. There was a flash and a boom that made Leslie cringe and even gave Roarke a start; and when the noise and light vanished, there stood Christian, looking disoriented.
"So there you are," said Roarke dryly.
Christian blinked rapidly, gave his head a few violent shakes and looked around. His face cleared as he realized where he was. "Oh, so it was you," he said to Athena. "What do you need me for?"
"It's not I who needs you, it's these two," Athena said, gesturing at Roarke and Leslie.
Christian regarded them, still looking a little befuddled. "Is it lunchtime, then?"
"Perhaps you had better come along with us," Roarke said meaningfully, his tone making it less an option than a requirement. "Oh, and Athena, when you have some free time, I would like to see you in my office."
Athena looked curiously at him. "Oh? As a matter of fact, I can spare the time right now. I apologize, everyone, but temple's closed for now. I'll resume after lunch." She smiled, arose from her throne and spread her arms in the air. "May you all be blessed and go well."
At the main house, Roarke faced the three of them from behind his desk. "So," he said, "what is the full story here? Athena, if you would be so kind, perhaps you can tell me just how you were so quickly able to gain such a massive following."
Athena beamed. "I have this young man to thank," she said. "Why, you should have seen him, Roarke." She cheerfully described the scene of earlier that morning. Leslie, who had missed most of it, stared in astonishment at her and then at Christian, whose expression was still that of the inconvenienced royal; Roarke took it all in without comment, although when Leslie stole a glance at him, she realized his dark eyes were twinkling.
"This seems rather sudden," he remarked thoughtfully, slowly taking his chair. "Uh, Christian…" This resulted in Christian's expression changing from distantly haughty to mildly outraged.
"Please, Mr. Roarke. 'Your Highness'," he said.
Roarke caught Leslie's wince and delicate sidestep away from Christian, but took it in stride. "As you wish, Your Highness. Is this true? It appears you have discovered a latent talent."
"So it would seem," Christian said, frowning. "It was quite the experience. Perhaps when I return to Lilla Jordsö, I should ask Arnulf to assign me a few extra royal duties. I might even consider delivering his speeches for him now and then…when he has laryngitis, or on some similar occasion."
Roarke visibly stifled a smile. "Very unusual," he said, turning to Athena. "How odd, Athena, that he wasn't like this until he joined you and Leslie."
Athena looked blankly at him, then got his meaning and drew herself up straight with indignation. "Now, Roarke, if that's an accusation, I can assure you I had nothing to do with his loquaciousness. The man is a born orator. I don't think I've ever heard quite such a rousing speech as the one he made in converting my first followers."
"Hm," said Leslie with a narrow-eyed sidelong glance at Christian. "A regular televangelist."
"I beg your pardon," Christian said, scowling at her. "I am a prince!"
"You've made that more than clear," Leslie retorted in exasperation.
"Please, Leslie and Chris…excuse me, Your Highness," Roarke corrected himself with pointed, and perhaps faintly sarcastic, emphasis on the title. "If we might return to the subject at hand…"
"I tell you, Roarke, that isn't my influence," Athena said firmly. "Royal genes will out, that's all I can tell you. The young man himself mentioned that his kingly brother is a natural windbag. Most royals are, in my experience, and this one's no exception." That got her a heated glare from Christian and a half-swallowed giggle from Leslie. "He was simply perfect for the purpose. However, Roarke, I really don't need his services any longer. He's accomplished what he needed to do, and I can handle everything myself from here on."
Roarke regarded Athena speculatively, then nodded. "Very well…I have no reason not to believe you. I appreciate your time." Athena smiled, raised her arms in one grand sweep and vanished. "Now, you two…to begin with, Leslie, you really never should have said what you did to Christian, no matter how exasperated you may have been with him. It could have easily become disastrous."
Leslie nodded contritely. "I'm sorry, Father…it's only that he was acting so out of character, it made me mad. Besides, it's hard to argue with a stubborn prince."
"At least you have the sense to see that," Christian said with a huff.
Roarke eyed him oddly. "I begin to understand what you mean, Leslie," he observed. "When, precisely, did you notice this in him?"
"Almost as soon as we joined Athena," said Leslie. "It was like a…a personality transplant."
Christian's glare now encompassed them both. "Must I remind you, I'm a prince!" he snapped. "I'd appreciate it if the two of you would refrain from discussing me as though I were a corpse you were about to dissect."
Leslie lost the last of her patience. "Oh, for crying out loud, Christian, get over yourself!" She turned to Roarke. "You'll notice that Athena isn't here, and he's still acting like that. So it has to be something else, I guess, but for the life of me I have no idea what."
At that point Mariki appeared in the foyer. "Lunch is ready, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie. Is His Royal, Exalted Highness planning to join you?"
"Damn it, Mariki, what's your problem?" Leslie demanded. "Really, I don't understand what's wrong with you. You were so nice to him in the kitchen this morning—you gave him the best-looking banana in the lot when we came looking for some breakfast for him."
"It was a very tasty banana," Christian remarked, studying Mariki with a cold expression. "I would have thanked you for it, if it weren't for your attitude now. Although I must tell you, I do appreciate your use of my proper title."
Mariki smiled while Leslie gaped at him, and said smugly, "I knew you'd like that banana, Your Princely Entity." She nodded at her employer and disappeared down the hall.
Leslie squinted after her. "There's something about her…" she mumbled.
Roarke caught her tone and, rising, called out sharply. "Mariki, come back here!"
A moment later Mariki returned, looking startled. "Can I help you, sir?"
"What was in that banana?" Roarke asked point-blank. It sounded like a nonsense question, but he looked perfectly serious, Leslie noticed. And even more strangely, Mariki got a very guilty look about her.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," the cook said hopefully.
"I'm sure you do," Roarke parried ominously. "I insist that you explain yourself here and now…or I may be forced to find another cook." Leslie realized suddenly that Mariki had been quite proud of herself about that banana for some reason, and glared at her.
Mariki managed to look convincingly shocked. "Mr. Roarke!"
"Spill it," Leslie barked. "I'm pretty fed up with your sarcasm and the way you've been treating Christian, so if this is your doing, you better start talking. Let's have it."
Mariki loosed a long, impatient sigh. "If you have to know, I got it from my husband. Kono makes a mean brand of moonshine. It's distilled from a couple of odd plants that grow on our property and bear some very tasty fruit, and a little of it goes a long way. I filled a medical syringe with some of his brew and injected it into the banana I gave His Elevated Self over there…" She noticed Leslie's black glare and grudgingly amended, "…to the prince. He never would've noticed the difference. Kono's moonshine has no taste, but it'll get you good and stinking drunk." She smirked. "Or in his case, more obnoxious than usual."
Leslie was speechless with rage; Christian simply eyed Mariki disdainfully. Roarke stared at her, astonished. "Mariki, I am amazed at you. Simply amazed. I thought Leslie had explained everything to you after Christian first returned here. I don't know why you have it in for him, but I must say, you are one of the worst grudge-holders I have ever met. And this is simply…it's worse than egregious, it's downright juvenile. Why?"
"He's hurt her once too often," Mariki said, wilting a bit under Roarke's reproving stare. "I couldn't stand seeing him so easily forgiven. You should have held out, Miss Leslie—made him suffer for what he did to you."
"Oh?" Leslie shot out, skirting Christian to advance on the now wide-eyed cook. "For one thing, Mariki, you are not my mother, no matter how much you try to fill the role. Even if you were, you'd have to let go, because you also seem to forget that I'm grown up now. That's spelled A-D-U-L-T. I've come of age, I've attained my majority, I'm a woman…not a little girl." Mariki opened her mouth as soon as Leslie paused for breath, but Leslie saw her coming and promptly overrode her. "And besides, suppose I had made him suffer, as you put it. Did it ever occur to you that it would have made not only Christian miserable, but me too?"
"He deserved it," Mariki insisted, but her voice was weak now.
"That isn't for you to decide," Leslie retorted, gaining momentum. "You don't seem to understand that I love him. Can you decipher those three words, or does someone have to translate them into Hawaiian or whatever else you speak? I. Love. Him. Period. End of sentence. I am in love with Christian, and I'm going to be in love with him for the rest of my life. You may as well accept that right now, Mariki. I don't care if you don't like it. That's the way it is, and that's the final word. If you don't put any credence into my decree, then maybe you'll listen to Father, but you're going to hear the same thing from him!"
"Indeed you will," said Roarke firmly when Mariki looked at him.
Mariki sighed heavily and shrugged, defeated. "My apologies," she mumbled. "Lunch is still ready." Very red in the face, she shuffled back down the hall to the kitchen.
"You're going to let her get away with that?" Christian demanded in pure regal arrogance. "If it were my decision, I would have had her guillotined."
Very slowly, Roarke let his gaze drift to the ceiling and stay there. Leslie whirled on Christian and yelled, "Well, it's not your decision, and the least you could do is show a little gratitude for my defending you, prince or not! I hope to high heaven that when that stuff finally wears off, you have the worst hangover in the history of drinking!" She whipped back around and stormed out of the house.
"Shall we have lunch?" Roarke offered, with just a bare hint of weariness in his tone, and left without waiting for Christian's reply. Christian watched him go, then shrugged and followed him, without a thought on earth for his coming consequences.
