Page 5

Ava

T he coffee shop swirled around me, my breath short and my heart beating fast.

I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

The photo on the tablet in my hands was off a gorgeous castle made of gray stone, mountains reaching up into the blue sky behind it. The structure looked like something out of a fairy tale—gorgeous and stately.

While the castle was beautiful, the woman standing in front of it was what I was really interested in.

It was Mom. She was dressed in a stunning white gown, her hair in soft, flowing curls over her bare shoulders, a beautiful smile on her face. It was so strange. Not only her surroundings, but her dress and the way she stood. I’d always known Mom as a no-nonsense woman on the go, dressed in comfortable jeans and flats, her hair in a simple ponytail. She’d always put out an effortless sense of style that I’d admired, but never ball-gown-in-front-of-a-damn- castle style.

I stared more at the picture, trying to wrap my head around what I was seeing. It was hard to tell, but Mom appeared to be around my age in the photo, in her mid-twenties.

“This is a Photoshop or something,” I declared, shaking my head and handing back the tablet. “A trick.”

Luc glanced at me, swiping the screen. “Not a trick at all. These are actually scans of the original prints which are in my bag, if you’d like to see them.” I stood stunned as he reached into his bag and took out a manila envelope, opening the flap and withdrawing some 8x10s. “Please, sit.” He gestured to the chair I’d been in only moments before. A dumb expression on my face, I slowly sat back down.

He handed me the photos. Sure enough, the one on top was the same as what I’d seen on the screen. Nothing about the photo jumped out as fake. Then again, I was far from a master of spotting such things.

I flipped to the next photo. It was of Mom once again, seated in a gorgeous garden, a chubby, blonde-haired and blue-eyed baby on her lap.

“That’s you,” Luc said. “Believe it or not. This was clearly before the tattoos and piercings.”

His joke managed to snap me a bit out of my daze, and I smiled in spite of myself.

I flipped to another photo. The next was Mom and me again, this time seated on a blanket in a gorgeous green field, the Alps looming overhead, the tops of the mountains tipped with white. Mom wore a simple sundress, looking effortlessly beautiful. I was a little older in that photo, toddler age, and Mom was smiling at me as I held up an apple.

We weren’t the only ones in the picture. A pair of men, both in their twenties and dressed in sharp, dark suits, stood in the distance. They were close enough that I could make out their features, however, and one of them seemed very familiar.

“That’s me, if you can believe it,” Luc said. He placed his fingertip on one of the men. “When I was closer to your age now. Seems like an eternity ago.”

I studied Luc in the photo, noticing how little he seemed to have aged. His hair was tinged with a bit of gray and there were a few wrinkles here and there, but he was still tall and handsome, carrying himself even then with his commanding bearing.

It reminded me of what was making the meeting even more difficult to bear. I’d noticed again how freaking hot Luc was the second I stepped into the coffee shop. He was dressed simply in gray slacks and a white button-up shirt, the top buttons undone and showing off a sculpted chest underneath. A pair of black loafers finished his effortlessly professional look.

God, he was sexy. It was almost unfair—this whole thing was shaping up to be difficult enough to deal with on its own.

I turned to the next photo, this one of Mom in a flowing ball gown in a huge hall. Just like in the other pictures, she looked beautiful. The next photo was of her and a man, both seated on a throne.

“That’s…”

“That’s King Alaric, your father.”

My stomach tightened as I took in the image of the man Luc said was my father. He was tall and well-built and handsome, his hair a close-cropped blonde, a neatly trimmed beard slightly darker in color framing his angular face. He sat with poise, he and Mom reaching over toward one another, taking the other’s hand at the halfway point between the two of them. They both faced the camera, easy, regal smiles on their faces.

I reached over and picked up my pumpkin spice latte, taking a quick sip. I needed a moment before I went to the next photo. When I was ready, I set the drink down and flipped.

This one was of Mom and a tall, handsome man in sharp military regalia, both of them standing under a magnificent altar covered in red and white roses. It was their wedding.

“Red and white are the colors of the Edorian flag,” Luc said.

It was all too much to take. I’d never known my father, never so much as seen a picture of him. But there he was.

My hands were shaking. I pushed the photos back toward Luc, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

When I was ready, I opened my eyes slowly and spoke.

“This has to be a joke.”

Luc raised an eyebrow. “A joke?”

“A joke. Or a prank. Or something. There’s no way in hell that this is true, that I’m a princess of some obscure little country in Europe. This is something that only happens in the movies! I mean, handsome strangers don’t just show up in women’s lives and tell them that they’re next in line to take over a kingdom.”

Luc kept his eyebrow arched. “Handsome strangers?”

Shit . “It’s, uh, a figure of speech!”

“Sure.” The corner of his mouth curled slightly, almost imperceptibly. Through it all, I could tell that he was amused.

“Wait, I know what this is!” I sat up. “This is a con! You’re trying to trick me! I mean, I may not know a lot about photoshop or other altering software, but I’m sure it’s not hard to fake something like these pictures.”

“Does that really make sense to you?” he asked. “And what would the point of doing that even be? So I can get access to your crab cake fortune?”

There was that sardonic sense of humor again. Luc was professional, even a bit stiff and serious, but he could crack a dry joke every now and then.

Not to mention the little detail that he had a point. Why the hell would a conman waste their time with someone like me? Sure, business was good, but that didn’t mean I had much in the way of liquid assets.

“I’ll save you the trouble of wondering,” he said. “And tell you that yes, this is all true.” He flipped through the pictures, showing me once more the photo of Mom and my father in the throne room. Luc placed his finger on the throne in which Dad was seated, a regal chair, high-backed and carved in an ornate, beautiful style.

“See this? That’s why I’m here.”

“Huh?”

“That throne? It’s yours .”

The surreal nature of the conversation went up another level.

“It’s what ?”

“As I’ve told you already, you’re next in line to the Edorian throne. You’re meant to be officially named in about a month or so, at the Harvest Ball. That’s why I’m here, Ava, to bring you home.”

Officially named? It was all too much to take.

“Your naming ceremony awaits, Ava. You’re to be named heir to the throne of Edoria.”

I was a woman who’d always taken pride in my ability to keep my cool, to not let anything bother me or get under my skin. In those moments, however, that was difficult to do.

I rose. “Fuck that!”

Without another word, I hurried out of the coffee shop and into the cool, rainy day.

* * *

“You’re what ?”

It was a little before eleven, and Hailey and I were in the crab truck getting it ready for the lunch rush. This time we were in the Central Business District, parked at the corner of Union and Fourth. Working downtown could be a pain in the ass, but the money we made off hungry businessmen and women more than made up for the hassle. The morning clouds had broken somewhat, a bit of sunlight shining down as we prepped.

“A princess,” I said, the word sounding surreal. “Of this place called Edoria.”

Hailey flashed me a confused look before taking out her phone and typing away.

“Edoria… OK, it’s a real place.” She cleared her throat as she jumped onto the counter to take a seat. “Edoria, officially called the Principality of Edoria, is a French-speaking microstate located in the Alps between Austria and Switzerland. Edoria is a semi-constitutional monarchy headed by King Alaric.”

She went on. “Blah-blah-blah, Edoria is Europe’s fifth smallest country, with an area of just over six hundred and fifty-five square miles and a population of one million, three hundred and fifty-five thousand. Oh, this is interesting. Edoria has one of the highest gross domestic products per person when adjusted for purchasing power, whatever that means.” She continued to read. “It says that the capital of Lausanne is known for its bustling financial district and medieval architecture, while the countryside produces some of the most sought-after meats and cheese in Europe. Oh wow…”

“What’s wow?”

“Just looking at the pictures of the place. Check it out.”

She handed over her phone and I scrolled through the pictures. Edoria was beautiful, like something out of a dream. There were huge lakes with quaint villages clustered around them, rolling green hills where farm animals roamed, and scenic mountains rising above it all. The capital, Lausanne, was both historic and modern at the same time, with cobblestone paths that weaved through market districts that had to have been hundreds of years old, stately townhomes along wide boulevards, and a financial district of towering skyscrapers that would’ve been right at home in Seattle.

Then there was the castle—just as beautiful as in the pictures Luc had shown me. I still couldn’t believe that it was real.

“How the hell did we not know this place existed?” I asked, handing the phone back to her.

“I know, right? I mean, it’s like a real-life Disney kingdom. And not only that but our mom was the queen!” She shook her head in disbelief as she turned her attention to the phone once more. “So, this is King Alaric.”

“Alaric.” I said the name quietly to myself, still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I now knew who my father was.

“This is insane,” she said. “But I have to ask… do you really believe it’s true?”

“Trust me, I had all of my bullshit detectors operating at full capacity. When he got out those pictures, though…” I trailed off, thinking back to how I felt when I first saw the photos.

“So are you going to go?”

“I have no idea. I mean, part of me trusts Luc. Another part wonders if I’m going to hop on that plane and never be seen again.”

“Human trafficking,” she said knowingly. “I listened to this NPR thing about it. Super scary and a huge problem for girls like us.”

“But those pictures! They were Mom, one hundred percent. If this is true, then it’s the only way I’m going to meet my father.”

“It’s a tough one for sure. What are you leaning toward?”

“I want to go.” The words tumbled out of my mouth with a speed that surprised even me. I’d been going back and forth on the issue for the past few hours, weighing the pros and cons. But there in the truck, I suddenly knew what I wanted.

She nodded. “Then you should go.”

“It’s not that simple.” I gestured around me. “What about the business?”

Hailey shrugged. “I can handle it on my own for a while. And if I need an extra hand, I can hire some part-timers. You’ve been talking about how you’ve been wanting to expand the work force beyond just the two of us, maybe even open another truck. You ask me, this is the time to try it out.”

“And what about the whole human trafficking thing?”

“Well, I know where you’re going. We’ll stay in touch and do some prep beforehand like make copies of your passport and all that. And if you get the slightest whiff of a weird vibe, call it off.”

Hailey made a good case. She had a good head on her shoulders and wouldn’t let anything happen to me on her watch.

“But if I go, I’ll have to deal with Luc.”

“And what’s so bad about that? He’s totally hot.”

“Yeah I guess he is, but he’s kind of a prick, too. Really stiff, totally humorless.” After I said the words, I thought about the couple of dry, sardonic jokes he’d cracked during our meeting. “Well, not totally humorless. But still.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to be marrying the guy or anything.” Her eyes flashed immediately after she said the words. “What if that’s what happens? Like, they bring you there and tell you that Luc is actually the third prince of whatever, and that you’re going to be a royal match.”

I chuckled. “That’s not going to happen.”

She grinned. “There’d be worse things, right? He is really sexy.”

I shifted my stance, intrusive thoughts of Luc filling my mind. I thought about those steely gray eyes, serious and narrowed, like a hunter’s. I thought about his tall, powerfully built body, those big hands. I swallowed hard, finding myself getting a little hot right there in the crab truck.

“His looks don’t matter! He’s a super serious asshole, and I’m going to be stuck around him if I go.”

Another shrug. “Just for the time it takes to get there. That’s what, a ten-hour flight? You’ll probably never see him again once you land.”

I glanced away, thinking it all over.

“I know it sounds kind of silly, but I do feel like my destiny’s calling out to me.”

“Then you’ve got to answer. But first, let’s make some money. Ready?”

“Always.”