The Royals And The Ramblers

By Sam Starbuck

It's an exciting time for the Shivadh royal family! Gregory III, king of Askazer-Shivadlakia, is marrying kitschy TV chef Eddie Rambler...three times. There's the beach party in Eddie's hometown in California, a private wedding for Gregory's family back home in Europe, and a big formal blowout for everyone in Askazer-Shivadlakia to celebrate.

Eddie's sister Monday is wary of the royals when they arrive in Santa Luna, but they seem nice enough. Gregory's stepbrother Noah even befriends the youngest Rambler, shy and quiet Ephraim. Soon, Monday has warmed to the royals as well, particularly Gregory's bodyguard Georgie, who isn't opposed to a fling while visiting. Then Gregory asks Monday to be a surrogate for a royal baby, and her life turns upside down.

Monday's not the only one dealing with change, either. Gregory's father Michaelis is navigating his relationship with Noah's parent Jes, Noah is adjusting to his new job as prince, Gregory's friends Alanna and Jerry are testing their whirlwind romance, and Georgie is trying to work out where she stands with Monday -- as staff, or friend, or maybe more?

And then there's Ioanna, the bright, troubled kid that Gregory catches ditching school to attend Parliament. The royal baby is already on the way, but, as Eddie points out, they could make room for two royal children...

It's a year for everyone to learn new roles, find surprising ways to keep growing up, and, as always, keep that irreverent Shivadh sense of humor, whether they're a Royal or a Rambler. And with the birth impending, Monday should probably figure out just what she and Georgie are to one another, and what that means for her future with the royal family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Extribulum Press
• Release date: Feb 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9781960785039

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The first planning meeting for the royal wedding of His Majesty Gregory III and His Grace Theophile Eddie Rambler, celebrity chef and newly coined Duke of the Orange, was an informal affair. It involved Gregory’s head of Operations and best friend, the Lady Alanna Daskaz, sitting between His Majesty and His Grace on the sofa in their suite in the palace. One of the Star Wars prequels played quietly in the background.

If I’m going to plan this wedding, I need Ewan McGregor, Alanna had said. Nobody objected; Gregory had grown up watching the prequels with her and thus been inoculated via exposure, while Eddie liked anything with laser swords. Alanna’s fiancé Jerry – officially Gerald, Duke of Shivadlakia, vizier to the king – was in attendance as well, but graciously declined to view Ewan as a rival so long as the volume was turned down. Jerry was folded into a wing chair nearby, distracting himself with something on his tablet while he listened in on their discussion.

Having spent a lot of emotion on catering your coronation last year, Eddie said to his beloved, I’m a little worried about how we’re going to manage a wedding. I’m guessing we have to do something huge, given you’re the king. Which I don’t mind, but…it’s not very personal.

Gregory solemnly passed him a glass of wine. Alanna stole it, so he passed another one across.

Well, that’s the thing about getting married as king, Gregory said. You don’t have to have just one wedding.

How many weddings are we having? Eddie asked, worried.

At least two, Alanna said.

I see why you need Ewan MacGregor to get through this, Eddie told her. Explain this to me, two weddings.

There’s the big state one, very formal, lots of strangers and dignitaries invited, Alanna began.

Nobody stranger than a dignitary, Jerry added, and Alanna groaned. Eddie laughed.

Probably involves a parade, Gregory said, picking up where she’d left off. My parents had a parade, and Dad wasn’t even king yet. There’s film footage. He looks all of twelve years old and also like he’d rather have thrown himself into the harbor. Mom was having a great time, though.

You know, I wouldn’t mind a parade. Can we have confetti cannons? Eddie asked.

I don’t see why not, Alanna said, noting down confetti – eco-friendly? in the document she’d started the night their engagement was announced. It was mostly notes on what she was going to absolutely forbid them to do, but fortunately none of those ideas had come up so far.

So what’s the other wedding? Eddie asked.

Other wedding is for friends and family. We can do what we want for that one, Gregory said. Private, intimate. I was thinking we should do the signing of the ketubah for the small ceremony first, and then the vows for the big state wedding, but I’m open to other ideas.

Ketubah’s the marriage contract, right? Eddie asked, forehead wrinkling. You sign that first, then do the vows and the chuppah later?

You have a strong grasp of the basics, my love, Gregory said. Oh, hey, do you mind if I stomp the glass in the big wedding? I was looking forward to it.

Be my guest, Eddie said. I guess I have to talk to my folks about getting everyone out here from California for it. That’s going to be a circus.

Or have a third wedding, Jerry said. Eddie glanced over at him, and Jerry looked up from his tablet. Why stop at two? Honeymoon in California, have one there for the American side.

Can we do that? Eddie asked Alanna.

It’s your marriage, and you’re marrying a king, she said. There’s a budget for this from the government, and I assume you’ve got a few dollars in the bank. You can pretty much do anything you want.

Oh, wow, Eddie said. I can actually have the absurd hippie beach wedding my parents have been dreaming of. I’m going to make you wear a flower crown, he said to Gregory.

I’m making you wear an actual crown for the rest of your life, I really don’t have any space to complain, Gregory pointed out. We’ll be in California next month, we can pitch the idea to your parents then.

Or we could just do the wedding then, Eddie suggested. Gregory blinked at him. June’s a nice month for a wedding. Your dad and company are coming with us to meet the parents, so they’ll be there too. Al and Jerry can watch by video chat if they want and anyway they’ll be in the other two weddings. It’s just folding chairs on the beach, t-shirts and swimsuits, barbecue afterward. My parents have done it for friends a dozen times. Take two weeks to set it up. Three if you want a celebrity to marry us.

I’m going to get married to you in California in swim trunks? Gregory asked.

Actually, we might want to treat it more like a commitment ceremony, not make it a legal thing, Eddie said thoughtfully.

Why not? Jerry asked, and then said it in unison with Eddie. "Community property, right, right."

If we get married in California, anything we acquire during the marriage, the other person gets half if we divorce, Eddie said to Gregory. "I know you love me but if you ever stop loving me I’m pretty sure you being king is going to complicate matters. Not to mention my diner empire," he joked.

Seems simpler and less fraught than a prenup, I’ll be honest, but good point, Gregory said. So we’re going to have an illicit secular hippie swimsuit wedding on the beach?

Only if you’re okay with it, Eddie said.

It sounds very low stress, Gregory said.

In that case, Eddie, you are in charge of your swimsuit wedding, Alanna said, making a note. "I’ll see about arrangements for the private ceremony here, and start looking for event planners to manage the public ceremony. I’m warning you now, you’ll have a lot of control over the private ceremony, but the public one is just going to happen to you. Any requests you have, make them early."

Are you in the king uniform for it, or is there a special wedding suit you have to wear? Eddie asked.

Uniform’s probably best, for the public one, Gregory said. Maybe get one that’s a bit more decorative than usual. It’s fortunate that the whole point of the king wearing black is that his partner’s meant to wear whatever they like. You won’t have to deal with the royal blacks unless you really want some, he said to Eddie.

White suit, I think, Eddie said to Alanna, who noted it down. No, cream, that’s nicer – actually, let me handle it. I’ll talk to that place that did my embroidered linen suit. Get something in a bold gold floral print, but classical, William Morris style. Bees, maybe. Very romantic, bees.

Has anyone ever told you that you do an astonishing impression of a mood board? Jerry asked. I mean that as a compliment.

I like to think my greatest talent is embodying the aesthetic, Eddie replied with a grin. I take it as a compliment, thank you.

My pleasure to flatter, Your Majesty, Jerry replied. Alanna saw Eddie mouth Your Majesty to himself thoughtfully.

It should be, I’m pretty sure you’re Eddie’s best man for the public event at least, Gregory said, and Eddie nodded. Better dust off that ball gown you wore to my coronation.

And be seen in the same dress twice? Jerry mocked horror. No, if it’s the big public one they’ll choose what I’m wearing for me. Probably a conservative suit in Shivadh blue, which is fine. Are you going to let your dad get away with wearing the royal blacks to the state wedding, Greg?

Jes has plans to get him into a morning suit, Gregory said. Which has less to do with the wedding and more to do with how they think he’ll look in a tailcoat, but I’m not going to inquire too deeply.

Wait, if Jerry is Eddie’s best man for the public ceremony, who’s yours? Alanna asked, frowning at Gregory.

Well – you, Al, of course, Gregory said. I thought that was obvious.

Alanna leaned over and kissed his cheek. That’s very sweet, thank you.

Also it will keep you from micromanaging on the day of, Gregory said.

Considerate of my mental health. All right, action items – I am officially hands-off on the California wedding and the suit for the state wedding, that’s all Eddie. Meanwhile, you two think about anything you want for the state wedding, and start planning exactly what you want for the family wedding. I will have pitches for the state wedding from a couple of event planners for our next meeting. Eddie, I’m open to suggestions for catering, since you absolutely cannot cook your own wedding feast and I’m not making Simon do it. Gregory, if your father has opinions, it’s your job to listen to them and then tell me only the relevant ones, Alanna added. Gregory grinned. She made a little note and then said, Jerry.

Awaiting orders, duchessa mine, Jerry replied.

Your job is to look decorative and not tell Gregory when I vent to you about the wedding planning.

Check and check, Jerry agreed. Can’t wait until ours, he added, returning to his tablet. Strong vote here for eloping, Al.

We could elope, Gregory said to Eddie.

We really can’t, but you hold onto that fantasy, Eddie replied.

***

Mom’s phone, which was rarely in Mom’s proximity, was sitting on the desk in the back of the surf shop in Santa Luna when it buzzed. The extra-long string of numbers on the caller ID was as good as a name to any of the Rambler children; Monday, who had been wrapping up some early morning paperwork, picked it up and said, Mom’s phone, this is Monday, by way of greeting.

Hey, Mom’s Phone Monday, Ed said, sounding upbeat, not that he often sounded otherwise. You all fall into the ocean yet?

No, but the day is young, she replied, leaning back and propping her feet on the desk.

Not where I am. Got some news for the parental units, but I’m happy to unload on you instead if you want.

Sure, I’m not doing anything. How’s the boy?

He’s good, we’re good. Which reminds me, Ray said your breakup’s going badly.

Monday laughed. Yes and no. I’m fine, the breakup was for the best. Vera’s not taking it well.

Vera cheated on you, she doesn’t get to not take it well, Ed said, obviously aggrieved on her behalf.

I mean, she can feel however she wants about it, but her version of not taking it well is calling so often I had to block her number, and then sending me letters, Monday sighed. I think ‘stay away from me’ has reached her but perhaps not ‘please stop trying to fix this’ yet.

Are you worried about like…escalation? Ed asked. Because you have a brother who can hire you a bodyguard.

Ah, Ed, it’s nothing I can’t handle. She’s like half my size and the surf bros all know to run her off if she shows up here. I’ll let you know if I need help.

Make sure you do, Ed said seriously.

I will. That’s not why you called though, is it? Also, Ray’s a tattle-tale.

This we knew. No, I’m calling about something way happier. We’ve been doing wedding planning.

Mazel tov. You set a date the whole Rambler Family Flying Circus needs to get out there?

That’s the thing, Ed said. I’m already dragging Gregory and his dad out to California next month, and it was pointed out to me that we could just have a wedding there, while we’re all present.

In Santa Luna? Sure, Monday said. But you know we’d all come out there if you want us at the official thing.

Oh yeah, I just figured this’d be easier on folks, and Mom and Dad could do the beach wedding thing.

Not trying to keep us out of the country because we’ll embarrass you, are you? she teased.

Monday! Ed said, sounding genuinely hurt. No, you guys don’t embarrass me, and if you embarrassed Greg I wouldn’t be marrying him.

Just kidding, Ed, sorry, she said.

Better be, he grumbled. Really it was like…we’ve got to do the big state thing back here but who wants to force a Rambler into a tuxedo? I already have to wear a suit, no reason to make you all do it too.

Here I just bought a new cummerbund, she deadpanned.

If you did, I bet it’s in neoprene.

Monday laughed. So a wedding here, huh?

Yeah, nothing fancy. Folding chairs on the beach, non-legally-binding commitment ceremony. You know anyone who wants to put on a robe and do the honors?

Hell, for dinner and a smile I’ll do it, but I bet Dad’s dying to. You’re not wrong, Mom and Dad have been aching for a beach wedding for one of us since any of us were old enough to pick a life-mate but you, as usual, are the only one who’s bothered.

Yeah, it’s rough being the favorite, but someone had to, Ed replied, just as their father appeared in the shop’s doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. Monday pointed to the phone and mouthed Ed. He held his thumb to his ear and pinky to his mouth, phone-style.

Hey, Dad’s here, you wanna talk? she asked.

Throw me on speaker?

Your funeral, she said, and set the phone down, tapping speakerphone.

Hey, Dad, I need as many folding chairs as we can source, a priest, and like a hundred pounds of meat, Ed announced.

I know a guy, their father replied, unruffled. Orgy?

Close. You think we could throw a beach wedding while I’m there with the in laws?

Dad laughed. Yeah, kiddo, love to. Nobody believes me when I tell ‘em we’ve got two kings visiting for social reasons.

Technically three.

You don’t count, you’re a Rambler and we are anti-monarchist.

I’m having my rebellious phase late, Ed said. Please do not do the antimonarchist routine with Greg’s dad, okay? You know they’re elected.

Suspiciously so, Dad replied.

I just really want him to like you guys.

This is the guy who called your cooking a Vegas buffet, Dad pointed out.

That’s not what he said, and I told you he was having a minute.

Well, we’ll see.

You’ll like him if you give him a chance. Anyway, can I leave you with the chairs and the barbecue supplies? I’ll handle invitations, DJ, all that stuff.

I got the DJ, Ed, Monday said.

Even better. Dad?

Shouldn’t be a problem. Want me to get you that priest, too?

Probably shouldn’t actually be a priest. Greg’s okay with us not going full Rabbi for the occasion, though. Monday volunteered unless you want to do it, Ed said.

Do I get to dress like a wizard? Like can I marry you as Gandalf?

If that’s what blows your hair back, Dad, knock yourself out. Oh, flower crowns.

The second this topic came up your mother felt a disturbance in the Force, Dad said. She’s probably already making them.

Awesome, that’s all you, then. Monday, I’ll shoot you an email, Ed said. Love you guys. Can’t wait to be back there.

See you soon, in terms relative to the formation of the Earth, Dad said.

Love you, love to the king, Monday added, and hung up. She leaned back, stretching, and then stood.

Nice of Ed to think of doing a wedding here, Dad said, as they strolled out into the bright gold of the California morning. It was still strange, sometimes, to be as tall as him; Dad liked it, said he was happy he raised a brood of giants, but to Monday he was still sometimes the colossus of her childhood, and meeting him at eye level – not to mention as a fellow adult – was weird.

Mom’ll have fun with it. Good excuse to get all the old crew back together. And it’ll be a real test for the highnesses, Monday agreed, pulling her surfboard out of the sand.

How so?

Well, she said, letting him tug the zip of her wetsuit all the way up in the back, Gregory seems cool but it’s easy to seem cool over video from several time zones away. If he and that father of his can deal with a Rambler wedding, we’ll know they’re cool for real.

Hardly matters, Dad told her. Ed loves him, Mondaychild. We have to respect that.

I do, but I’ll feel better when I meet ‘em. What if they’re actually just the leaders of some weird European cult?

Then they ought to fit right in, Dad told her, following her down to the tide line. He cupped his hands around his mouth. Ramblers! Breakfast in thirty!

Gotcha Dad! a voice called back from the crashing waves. Pol was scooting around on her board trying to catch some big ones; Ray was just bobbing along far out, Ephraim next to him, lying on his back on his board. Mom was in the curve of a wave, body bent low as she surfed it. Monday looked sidelong at her father as he crossed his arms, thoughtfully.

Are you worried at all? she asked.

About weirding the royals out? Not really. He shrugged. Ed trusts them, I have to trust them too. But Ed’s got terminal Like-His-Dad disease, and we never think as much as we should about the future. I definitely didn’t when I was his age.

When you were his age you had your own business and five kids under the age of fifteen.

Yeah, and as one of those you know how hopelessly unprepared I was for any of it. It’s fine, I’m sure he’ll get through like I did. I just hope he understands how…for life this all is. It’s a wedding, not a contract with Eat Network.

Guess we’ll find out, Monday said. I’m going in.

Aren’t we all, Dad said with a reassuring smile, and Monday took off into the surf, wading and then swimming, paddling out to where the boys were floating around.

Got a call from Ed, she told Ray and Ephraim, as Mom rode a curl out and Pol climb into the curve of the next wave. He wants to do a ceremony on the beach with prince charming.

Sweet, I’ll stock up on glow sticks, Ray said. Ephraim threw a thumbs up into the air. Seafood or barbecue?

Barbecue, you know Ed. Besides, I don’t think Gregory and his family eat shellfish.

No bacon-wrapped shrimp, gotcha.

Can I DJ? Ephraim asked.

Yeah, I told Ed I knew a guy. Surprise! It’s you.

Ephraim did a little shoulder dance, still lying down on his board. Monday laughed.

Come on, let’s catch a few before we eat, she said. Mom’s going to have a lot of jobs for us once Dad tells her about the wedding.

I refuse to make flower crowns, Ray announced.

Doubt she’d let you. Get the lead out, boys, the girls are making you look bad, she said, and paddled off.

CHAPTER ONE

One of the facts that weird royalist-fetishist websites liked to trot out, on the subject of the Shivadh kings, was that they tended to travel frugally – train when available, flying commercial when forced to fly at all. They weren’t cheap, but they didn’t see the point of excessive luxury. King Emeritus Michaelis liked trains, and King Gregory III was an eco-conscious Millennial.

Georgiana Altaras wished it wasn’t publicized exactly how the king got around when he had to leave the country, but Georgie wished for a lot of things. At least, if the king had to be a public figure, Georgie could blend into the background; she was taller than most women, but in the loose business casual she preferred (formal enough to be unremarkable, flowing enough to allow her to throw a punch as needed) and with plain short ruffled hair, she was usually able to come across as simply a young professional. Perhaps a lawyer or an administrator, maybe a personal assistant. Her dark hair and dark eyes, in an olive-complected face, sometimes drew looks, but usually the unimpressed set of her resting face kept people from approaching.

She knew that much of her concern for the king came from paranoia, which would have worried her more if she weren’t paid to be paranoid. It wasn’t stressful, being head of security for the royal family of Askazer-Shivadlakia; very few people wanted to take a swipe at a popular, democratically elected king. Still, Georgie took all the appropriate precautions, as if she were protecting the President of the United States. Kept her busy, for one thing.

She’d wanted to travel with the king’s father for this trip, the summer holiday to California; it might have been habit, since he’d been her duty before his son was elected, but he also had fewer responsibilities to the country and so had decided on a more leisurely vacation. The king emeritus and his partner Jes, with Jes’s son Noah – now officially a Prince of Askazer-Shivadlakia, and thus very much one of Georgie’s responsibilities – left for America a week earlier than the king. They’d arrived first in New York to attend a podcast convention (lord) with plans to fly to California and meet up with the king and the Rambler family. Georgie had fretted about the travel and especially the convention, but the king emeritus – who had hired Georgie on faith in her abilities both as a lawyer and a bodyguard – had declined her suggestion that she accompany him.

My son is king now, he’s your responsibility, Michaelis had said.

At least let me send someone with you, Your Grace.

It’s simply not necessary, Georgie, nobody in America knows or cares who I am, he insisted.

If not for you, then for Prince Noah –

Georgiana. Noah grew up in New York. I understand your concern, and I commend your earnestness. But I am trying to have a vacation, he said gently. Jes isn’t accustomed to security traveling with us and I don’t wish them to be. It’s no different from my taking the train to Paris for the weekend. Less dangerous, truly. I’ll be with Jes and Noah the whole time. I’ll check in regularly, if that will make you feel better.

It will, thank you, she said, and let the matter go. He was right, after all; her place was with the young king now – who was actually her age, but any Shivadh who had grown up with his father on the throne would always think of him as the young king.

In any case, the decision had brought her here – having arrived in San Francisco ahead of the king so that she could collect their luggage, arrange for a car, and ensure that all the paperwork for the visit was in order.

Now she was in a rented car she’d vetted, driving down the California coast to meet the in-laws, with the king and his duke in the back seat.

All right, last chance for flashcards, Eddie said, as Georgie enjoyed the drive.

I don’t need flashcards, Eddie, this isn’t the World Economic Forum, Gregory replied. I’ve had video calls with your parents! Mom and Dad Rambler are Ceece and Tully –

Because? Eddie prompted.

Gregory sighed. Because they picked their own names as adults and they picked Pisces and Catullus.

Their marriage certificate is wild, Eddie said, amused.

You’re the oldest, next is Monday, who freelances as a…

Project manager, Eddie supplied. She does the administrative stuff for construction in the area.

Well, whatever she does, she seems like she’s too cool for me to impress her, even though you want me to, Gregory said.

She will like you. Don’t try to impress her, just be yourself.

Because I’m that charming?

Because Ramblers can smell a poser a mile away.

A vote of confidence, thanks, Gregory groaned.

I’m sure you guys’ll get along. She’s a lot like me, and you like me.

Yes, I’m nominally fond of you, Gregory said, and Georgie glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see him lift Eddie’s hand to kiss his knuckles quickly.

And the rest of the family? Eddie prompted.

The twins, Remus and Pollux, which I still don’t get.

Remus and Pollux were both twins in mythology, Eddie said patiently.

But not of each other.

Dad says they were going to be Castor and Pollux but Remus was so clearly a Remus they couldn’t do it.

Fine, well, Ray is your brother, he’s the firefighter, and Pol is your sister, she’s the lawyer. Youngest is Ephraim.

Yeah – he’s nineteen, not much older than Noah. And –

– yes, Gregory interrupted, clearly having had the speech already. I know I might not even see him and if I do he might not talk to me, that’s fine.

Eph just doesn’t like strangers, Eddie said. The anxiety over his youngest brother was evident in his tone. He’s supposedly doing better but I haven’t been home to see. Everyone knows, like all the people who come to surf our beach know and stuff, it just takes him a while to come out of his shell around new people. I want you to be ready and know it’s not you.

Honestly, someone who doesn’t want to talk to me sounds like a relief, Gregory said. I’ve never seen you so anxious. It’ll be fine. I want to like your family and I’m sure they want to like me.

They do, they’re good people, just…sometimes introducing the partner is hard, Eddie said. For a bunch of nonjudgmental post-hippie free thinkers, they can get real judgey sometimes.

About you?

No, but…

Eddie was quiet for a while; Georgie, who knew Eddie pretty well by now, cleared her throat.

If you two want a moment, there’s a scenic overlook coming up. I can pull off and take a walk, she said.

Ah, no, it’s not that, Georgie, Eddie said. Look, every time they’ve hated one of my dates they’ve turned out to be right. I have not always been the brilliant judge of character you see before you. I’m just worried they’ll hate you and be right.

Georgie heard the king laugh. Eddie. I love you. And I’m not a jerk. I got a whole country to elect me king, right? You told me that yourself. And they raised you, so I know they’re good people. We’ll soften them up for Dad and Jes and Noah – and anyway, Dad’s a diplomat. If they don’t like me they’re bound to like him.

I’m not marrying him.

I hope not. That’d be a real surprise for everyone, Dad included, Gregory said.

Your Grace, we’re coming up on Santa Luna, Georgie said, checking the GPS. Should I follow the computer, or do you want to tell me where to turn?

Ah, take the first exit after you pass through town – it’s not hard to tell – and I’ll tell you from there, Eddie said. Any advice for us on the meeting-the-folks front, Georgie?

Not really my area of expertise, Georgie said. But if they don’t like His Majesty, he is within his rights to order me to kill them all.

I did warn them about the Shivadh sense of humor, Eddie said to Gregory.

I feel maybe we should have warned them about Georgie, Gregory replied, and Georgie chuckled and kept driving.

Santa Luna was a charming little town, but it was very little, and they passed through it quickly enough, still on the freeway. She turned off the main road once they were through town, and Eddie directed her down a long street lined with mansions; Gregory gave a low whistle, and Georgie nodded in agreement.

Millionaires’ row, huh? Eddie said. I wouldn’t have bought out here, but I got a deal, and you’ll see why I wanted to. Besides, most of these places are empty most of the time. Weekend homes.

It does give very ghost town vibes, Gregory said. What about yours?

Oh, the family comes and goes. Monday and Pol have their own places; Ray’s got a place with some of the guys from his firehouse, and Eph still lives with Mom and Dad in town, but he and Ray are both out here a bunch and usually some family friend is crashing. There’s good surfing so the folks check in at least once a week. I did live here when I wasn’t on the road, but – remember when I came back for like two weeks to tie off loose ends after your coronation?

I do, Gregory said. I missed you.

Charmer. Anyway, one of the things I did was pack up my stuff and make the house presentable for guests. Hey, there it is, he added, leaning forward to point out the driveway to Georgie. She nodded and pulled in, following a long, graceful curve. She was about to ask if he was sure, because the huge wood-and-glass A-frame crouched on the cliff didn’t seem very Eddie Rambler to her, but then she saw a van parked out front, with a wizard airbrushed on the side.

Ah, Mom and Dad are here at least, Eddie said, as Georgie parked the car. Come on, come meet the folks.

Georgie would have liked to have inspected the house and gotten a full briefing on any security systems, but Eddie just went straight for the beach, following a footpath past the house and then a set of wooden stairs down the cliff. There were a handful of people on the beach at the bottom, some in the surf, others lounging on the sand.

She wished, later, that she’d paid more attention in the moment. She would have liked to have gotten a closer look at Ceece and Tully Rambler, and made sure she knew everyone’s faces. But she was distracted by one of the figures coming out of the surf – a tall woman, almost as tall as Eddie, with the same blue eyes and mane of gold hair, although hers was longer than Eddie’s, slicked back into a braid pulled over one shoulder. She had a surfboard tucked effortlessly under a sleek muscular arm, and the wetsuit didn’t hide any of her other muscles, either, or her fairly ample curves.

Georgie caught herself staring and jerked her eyes back to Eddie, but the woman was running right up to him, shoving her board in the sand and throwing herself into his arms, soaking his clothing.

Hey, Ed, she said, hugging him tight.

You are such a pain in my ass, Eddie replied, spinning her around. Gah, now I’m all wet, thanks.

Only what you deserve. You’re the boy, she added, turning to Gregory, who grinned. Sorry. His Majesty The Boy.

Eddie said I’d like you, the king replied, shaking her offered hand.

The woman’s eyes flicked over his shoulder to Georgie, who pretended to be studying a couple who were obviously Eddie’s parents, slogging their way up the sand as well.

Ah! Monday, this is Georgie, she’s Greg’s head of security, she’s here to beat up anyone who looks at him funny, Eddie said. Georgiana, my sister Monday.

Georgie nodded, then looked in surprise at the outstretched hand before taking it. Pleasure, Ms. Rambler.

Call me Monday, Monday said. You know it’s a no-guns beach though, right? Like, just in case.

"Monday, she doesn’t have a gun, Eddie replied. She’s not American."

Good, Monday said, eyes crinkling in amusement, and Georgie smiled back before remembering herself and stepping back to look around at the other people hurrying up, noting names and faces as she and the king were introduced.

What time is it for you? Tully, Eddie’s father, asked, brow wrinkling.

Evening sometime. We got some sleep on the flight, Eddie replied.

It’s almost lunchtime, and we stocked the kitchens, Ray said. You want big family lunch or some quiet alone time, Ed?

Georgie saw Eddie glance at the king, questioning, and was pleased as always that His Majesty had chosen someone who so clearly cared about his comfort. One could never tell with celebrities.

I’d like to get to know you all better, the king said, with his best smile. Family lunch sounds lovely, thank you.

Georgie turned to the king as the Ramblers were rallying to head to the house and said, I’ll bring the bags in, sire.

There’s no need, Georgie, you must be hungry too, he replied.

I ate before you arrived –

I’ll take her, Monday said, winking. You go make nice with the family. I’ll help with the bags and show her where you’re staying, then we’ll come eat. We have you in a different wing – Ed said you’d want to stay close to the king emeritus, she added, leading her away before the king or Eddie could say anything.

That’s kind, thank you, Georgie said, following as Monday bounded back up the steps. Although I suspect that’s the king’s way of asking for a little privacy from his staff. I don’t suppose you know the security system as well, do you?

I do, but it’s never on, so you might as well not worry about it, Monday said.

Never on! Out here on the peninsula, with so many empty houses around?

Eh. Everyone else has theirs on, Monday said with a shrug. There’s nothing worth stealing that Ed can’t replace, and the security system would just get guests in trouble. It may be self-evident but the Ramblers don’t have great feelings about cops.

Still, it seems very insecure.

Maybe, but you can’t live your life afraid, or Ed never would’ve ended up in Askazer-Shivadlakia, Monday said. Although I guess it’s your job to worry about that kind of thing.

More or less. It’s not fear, simply good sense, Georgie protested, unlocking the car. Monday dove in, pulling suitcases out of the trunk, before she could remind the king consort’s sister that it was Georgie’s job to do that.

Good sense in this case dictates we turn off the alarms so some poor kid who’s bunking here because his parents booted him out of the house and he got picked up for sleeping on the beach doesn’t get re-arrested, Monday said.

Is that the kind of people who stay here?

Sometimes. Ed’s a soft touch for a surf bum. Right now it’s just the family, but I have to warn you now if a bedraggled kid with their whole worldly possessions on their back shows up, we’ll make room and invite them to the wedding, Monday said. Is that going to be a problem?

She’d stopped, one bag under her arm and a rolling bag’s handle in each hand, tilting her head at Georgie, who tilted her own back, the rest of the luggage trailing behind her.

No, as long as I can get a name, Georgie said. My job is to make sure your brother and the king are safe.

I promise you, nobody we let into this house is going to hurt anyone, Monday said.

I suppose I can lay off the body cavity searches, for now, Georgie told her solemnly. Monday squinted at her.

You’re trolling, she declared. Georgie broke into a grin. I knew it! Troll!

Wait until you meet the king emeritus, Georgie said. Now, if you can’t show me any security, you might as well show me where to put these bags. I think the king packed for every possible occasion, but the king consort packed a toothbrush and a smile.

Sounds like Ed. This way, Monday said, and set off with purpose, so Georgie shrugged (almost dislodging the king consort’s one bag, an overnight duffle that felt suspiciously light) and followed.

***

The flight from New York to San Francisco was not quite as brutally long as the one Gregory and Eddie had taken from Europe, but it was well long enough for Michaelis ben Jason, who wasn’t thirty anymore.

Michaelis could understand wanting to take one flight and get it over with, but he was just as glad Jes had suggested they stop in New York first on the way out, to go to the podcast convention and adjust to the time change. New York had been fine, entertaining even, but also higher energy than expected, and then they had the next flight to contend with. By the time they landed at SFO, he was more than ready to find somewhere quiet to rest, but they still had to gather their luggage, pick up the rental car, and drive down the coast, since someone (himself) had insisted they didn’t need to be picked up.

I think my timing’s pretty good on this, because I did get you a surprise, Jes said, as they left the luggage claim and headed for the train to the rental agencies. He was heading for the entrance to the train station when Jes guided him around the building, to a nearby parking garage.

A surprise? Michaelis asked, perplexed. At the airport?

More or less. This way, they added, leading him and Noah into the garage. They bypassed elevators and exit signs, tapping a code from their phone into a secure-looking door –

Whoa, Noah said, as they stepped into a brightly lit, air-conditioned, enclosed garage full of cars – all of them either vintage, obviously expensive, or both. Jes grinned sidelong at Michaelis.

I found out the airport has a rental agency that specializes in exotics, they said. It’s not classic and I had to get a four-seater, but – they gestured at a cherry red Mustang with sleek lines and a convertible top, parked at one end of the garage. All yours, gearhead.

Michaelis, filled with unexpected joy, gave them a delighted look. This is a tweak, isn’t it. For that first time when I showed up in the Jaguar after you accused me of having a midlife crisis.

Just a little, they agreed. Mostly it’s that I’ve driven the Pacific Coast Highway. It’s a road for a car like this.

It took Michaelis about thirty seconds to get acclimated to the car, and perhaps ten minutes to – as Jes liked to call it – begin driving like all three of them were immortal. Still, Noah didn’t mind, and Jes didn’t complain, so he left Jes to program their phone for directions to Santa Luna while he got them out of airport traffic.

Now, this isn’t the shortest or most direct route, Jes said, as the gadget began to give directions, but it is by far the most scenic.

The second they passed through the mountains and out onto Highway 1, Michaelis exhaled and said, Worth every extra minute and whatever we paid for this car.

The view was spectacular, looking out over the Pacific from cliffs and bridges, and the curves of the road were a kick to drive on. Michaelis kept quiet, enjoying the way the Mustang handled. Jes daydreamed out the window, and Noah filmed at least four separate videos for Photogram with the speeding-past ocean as a backdrop.

They passed beaches and lighthouses, a handful of small towns, and long stretches of undisturbed coastline, until finally they began seeing signs for Santa Luna, tucked in a curve of hills, bordered by cliffs and beaches that formed a wide bay. Michaelis slowed as they drove through town, paying more attention to the GPS, which was directing them to a small peninsula lined with mansions that formed the southern curve of the bay.

Eddie called it a beach shack, Noah said, staring out at the well-kept yards and sprawling homes they were passing. He must have the last shack in this neck of the woods.

A lot of big tech guys from the city have weekend places here, Jes told him. I did some research on it – Santa Luna put through a lot of really strict zoning to keep the village itself small, so Baby Silicon Valley is out here to the south. There’s a longstanding feud with the locals over access to the beach, because California beaches are all public. You can’t obstruct passage to the shoreline, but the millionaires try anyway.

I wonder if Theophile had a hand in any of the zoning. Wouldn’t surprise me, Michaelis remarked.

Look at that one, Noah said, pointing over their shoulders from the backseat, indicating a huge, Nordic looking A-frame house with a glass front facade, prettier than the other mansions and situated on prime real estate, at the end of the peninsula, on a rocky cliff overlooking the beach. There was a distinct, elegant emptiness to the grounds around it, full of low native plants and footpaths leading to the cliffs. If there is a big fight about beach access I bet that house really annoys the neighbors. Wonder who lives there.

In 100 feet, you will reach your destination, the GPS announced. Michaelis leaned over the steering wheel.

"I think we do," he said, following the road that was leading straight up to an open air carport next to the house. There were three cars under the shelter and two more parked outside. One was a vintage minibus with polished wood paneling; another was a van with a wizard airbrushed on the side.

This is Eddie’s shack on the beach? Noah asked, stunned.

The man doesn’t often do understatement but when he does he is truly gifted at it, Michaelis said, amused.

With a shout, people began pouring out of the house itself, far too many to just be family. Some were immediately identifiable as Eddie’s siblings, and Michaelis was fairly sure he could pick out Ceece and Tully Rambler, but the crowd was indiscriminate, and more interested in saying hello than letting them through. 

You guys have got to be kidding me, a voice yelled, and Eddie plowed through the melee like a tank, people falling quiet in his wake. They’ve been sitting down since dawn, give them some space to stretch. Hi, he added to Michaelis. Welcome to Santa Luna.

Nice shack, Michaelis said.

Well, I had to live up to that car, Eddie said, nodding at the Mustang. Michaelis grinned. "Come on inside, we have air conditioning and quiet," he said meaningfully. The crowd around him began to disperse.

Who are all these people? Jes asked, following him towards the door. They’re not all Ramblers, are they?

Local friends, mainly. There’s a surf community that knows our place is a safe beach, and word got around this morning that you all were coming in, Eddie said. Couple of them wanted to gawp at the king emeritus, I’m sure, but most of ‘em wanted to catch a peep at the famous Jes Deimos.

Been that way since we left the country, Michaelis said.

He thinks it’s endlessly funny, Jes said. The further we go from home, the less famous he gets and the more famous I do.

Healthy for the ego, having it poked a bit, Michaelis said. "Besides, I blend in; you