Page 9

Ava

W hat. The. Hell.

It was all so surreal, standing in the middle of a bedroom, my bedroom, in a royal palace, my palace supposedly, less than an hour away from meeting my father, the king.

Still in a daze, I stepped toward the window, taking careful steps as if I might break something. Once at the window, I placed my hands on the cool, stone railing, the leafy, green plants on the sill swaying in the gentle, fresh breeze.

The view was stunning. My fourth-floor height allowed me a view of the garden that revealed just how ordered it was, designs of green edged with bushes of gorgeous flowers. A large, stone fountain was in the center, water jetting out from an array of fish statues.

Beyond the garden were more estates, the stone walls of Old Town rising above them. The city of Lausanne was visible, the shops and homes sprawling into the distance, the handful of towers in the financial district giving the city just the right touch of modern.

And it was all mine , well, kind of. I was the princess of this city, this country.

What the hell did that even mean? Everything I knew about royalty came from TV and movies and books. Would I be sitting in a throne room adorned with jewels, an impossibly gorgeous gown and immaculate makeup?

As beautiful as the view was, I had to step back from it, if only to give myself a moment to think, to process it all. I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress plush, the covers impossibly soft. Despite getting some sleep on the plane, I was tired, worn out by everything that had just happened. After all, it was merely a day ago I’d been slinging crab cake sandwiches in the back of a food truck, and now I was a princess in a far-off kingdom.

I laid back, my eyes going to the gorgeous chandelier that hung from the curved, stone celling. As I laid there, my thoughts drifted to the meeting ahead with my father. I had no idea how to even begin preparing for that. I’d lived my life for so long without a dad that there almost didn’t even seem space for him. How else was a little girl supposed to deal with not having a father in her life than by simply cutting that part out of her mind?

Knock-knock-knock .

Someone at the door to my bedroom snapped me out of my thoughts.

I rolled off the bed and cautiously made my way toward the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Kinley. May I come in?” The voice on the other side was a woman’s, her voice carrying the same not-quite-French not-quite-German accent in which Luc and the rest of the citizens of Edoria seemed to speak. She sounded young.

All the same, I had no idea who Kinley was.

“Uh, sure.”

On the other side of the door was a petite young woman, her age appearing around the same as me, with long, chestnut-brown hair and a set of big eyes of the same color. Her face was small and adorable, with a little mouth and button nose that seemed extra small offsetting the exaggerated size of her eyes. She was dressed in a simple but stylish outfit of a long black dress trimmed with white, the same sort of outfit I’d seen on the rest of the female members of the staff.

The moment she saw me, her mouth formed into a small “O,” her eyes widening.

“It’s you!”

She looked me up and down, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The expression only lasted a moment, however, before she shook her head, regaining her composure.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It is extremely unbecoming for me to be so… what is it you Americans say? Star-struck ? It’s just that… you’re the princess!”

“Something like that,” I replied. “But most people just call me Ava.”

She smiled once more, attempting to regain her composure.

“Yes, introductions are a good place to start.” She took the sides of her dress into her hands, curtseying politely. “My name is Kinley Brown. I am the on-site tailor and the personal assistant to the household manager.”

“Household manager?” I asked.

“Jonas Barnes,” she answered. “The man in charge of day-to-day affairs here at the palace. You’ll meet him in time, do not worry about that.” She took another deep breath, and I could sense that Kinley was a little bit overwhelmed by the situation.

“It’s ok. I’m nervous too,” I said, smiling.

Kinley’s eyes flashed once more.

“Sorry, it’s just that your arrival is all that anyone here at the palace has been talking about for quite some time. The king informed the staff that you might be coming, and we were sworn to secrecy as the last thing His Majesty wanted was for the entire kingdom to be buzzing with the news in case you didn’t come. And the rest of us only found out that you had arrived a little while ago. It’s a great honor to be the first member of the staff to meet you. Aside from Luc, that is.”

Kinley was cute. There was something disarming about her, something that made me feel comfortable putting my guard down a bit.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kinley. So, I’m guessing I’ll need to be dressed a certain way to meet the king?”

Kinley nearly slapped herself in the forehead. “Where’s my head? That’s what I’m here for! Look!” She prepared to step forward, catching herself mid stride. “Oh! I nearly barged into the princess’s royal chambers! Where is my head?”

I laughed, unable to believe that the bedroom where I was staying was considered royal chambers.

“Uh, I think this is just where I’m crashing for the time being.”

“Crashing?” she asked.

“Staying. It’s temporary,” I said. “At least, I assume so. Anyway, come on in.”

Kinley smiled and nodded as I stepped aside. Once she was in the room, she darted over toward one of the interior doors.

“Have you had a chance to look at the closet?”

“I haven’t, no.”

Kinley smiled broadly, clearly excited to show me something.

“Before your arrival, my staff and I took the liberty of putting together a small wardrobe for you. We had only seen pictures of you, but I have a pretty good eye for guessing sizes.” She looked at me, her smile fading a bit. “However, I am now a little uncertain if you will find something to your, ah, exact tastes.”

I glanced down at my outfit of leggings, sneakers, and a sweater.

“Uh, this is for comfort. Long plane ride, you know?”

“Yes, of course.” Her eyes then went to my hair, then my piercing.

“Alright, alright,” I said. “No one here likes my style. I get it.”

“No-no-no!” Kinley said, shaking her head emphatically. “I love your style! It’s so fresh, so American ! When we in Edoria hear about Seattle, we think of Kurt Cobain and flannel and ripped jeans and… attitude !”

“Really?” I asked. “Kinda figured it would’ve been Frappuccino’s and Jeff Bezos.”

“No, it’s rock and roll all the way. But we have heard good things about Frappuccino’s. Anyway, your style is wonderful. It’s just that, well, the king…”

“He’s going to hate it.”

“He’s a great king,” she said, speaking firmly. “Make no mistake. But he is a very traditional man.”

“Sounds like someone’s stuck in the past.”

Her eyes flashed. “That… well, you can speak to him about such things in person. In the meantime, I’d like to help you prepare for your meal with the king.”

Kinley stepped over to the closet, pulling the door open. “Come! Take a look!”

I stepped over, my eyes going wide as I took in the sight behind the door. It was a walk-in closet that was bigger than my apartment in Seattle. Both sides were packed with hanging clothes, and pairs and pairs of shoes on several shelves. Kinley and I entered, and I couldn’t help but let my hand drag over the clothes. There were dresses and gowns and blouses like I’d never seen before, along with a mirrored space in the back where I could try it all on. I’d never cared too much about fashion, let alone this kind of fashion, but there was something about those clothes that I couldn’t help but be transfixed by.

“Now, the first question is, are these your size? Keep in mind I’m something of a master tailor, so whatever’s too big or too small I can almost certainly adjust. Oh! And in time, when you develop your own preferences, we can talk about custom-made pieces.”

I felt like I was in a dream. “This a lot to take in. I’m used to wearing the same crab cake truck T-shirt six days a week.”

“Exactly. Now, as I said, your father’s tastes—”

“Are not my tastes,” I finished for her. “I’m not about to throw my old wardrobe into the trash just to make him happy.”

“Totally understandable. My job is to help your style blossom, not to replace it with someone else’s. You have a unique look, and I don’t want to change anything about that. The piercing however…”

“It stays—for now, at least. When I meet my father for the first time, he’s going to see me for who I am, not someone I’m pretending to be.”

“Yes, of course.” A touch of fear took hold of her face, as if she were worried about how my father might react.

“Don’t worry. If he asks, I’ll tell him that you tried to talk me out of it.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “I think I have just the thing for you to wear…”

* * *

I felt out of sorts heading down the hall in my flowy, purple dress, realizing that I’d totally forgotten how to move in anything other than jeans. I passed a mirror, one of the many tall, towering ones that adorned the palace walls, giving myself a once-over.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was me, but different. I was dressed in a simple dress, the purple of the fabric the same lilac as my hair—Kinley’s idea. My shoulders were bare, but the rest of the dress was on the modest side, though still glamorous. I’d never worn anything like it in my life.

To my surprise, I kind of liked it. Kinley had done my hair and makeup too, opting for a natural look for my face, my hair smoothed out and reaching my shoulders. Her work had been magic; one could hardly tell that I’d been on a flight for the last ten hours.

A pair of attendants flanked me, leading me to the room where I’d be meeting my father. Tension tied my stomach into knots, and I was thankful for the gorgeous surroundings of the castle to distract me.

It wasn’t long before we reached a large, arched set of double doors. Each of the men grasped a handle, pulling the doors open at the same time revealing a big dining hall—a glamorous, beautiful room with high ceilings of exposed beams, three chandeliers hanging at equal distances apart over a long table. Stone archways looked out over the garden, providing the room with a gorgeous view.

I stepped further in, realizing that I was alone.

“Hello?”

My footsteps echoed through the space. I approached the table, trying to wrap my head around how long it was; too many chairs to count were arranged neatly along the sides. At each end was a place setting, the kind with more forks and spoons and whatever else than I knew what to do with.

A door opened, pulling my attention away from the table. A tall, slender man with short, silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard the same color entered the room. Even from the distance I could tell that he was immaculately put together, carrying himself with regal poise and self-confidence, his shiny, black boots clicking on the stone floor.

This was my father. I had no doubt.

He stopped as he reached the end of the table, turning and facing me. Even without knowing who he was, without being related to him, his gaze would’ve given me pause.

“It’s you.” His voice was low and commanding.

“It’s me.” What else was I supposed to say?

Another beat of silence. “Come closer so I can get a look at you.”

I started walking toward him, the tension in my belly growing with every step. I could feel his hard, judging gaze.

When I was close, he glanced at me in an appraising manner, his eyes lingering on my piercing and my hair.

“We’ll have to do something about those,” he said.

“Is that right?”

“That’s right. But first thing’s first. It is good to finally see you again, Ava.”

My father stepped closer to me, offering his hand.

“A handshake, huh?” I asked with a small smile. “Look at you, getting all mushy on me.”

His arm still outstretched, he regarded me with confusion, as if he wasn’t aware that I was making a joke. To hurry the awkward moment along, I took his hand and shook it. His grip was firm and professional.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the other end of the table. “Our lunches will be brought in momentarily.” He paused as he prepared to sit down. “You’re not one of those vegetarians, are you? Or God forbid, the one where they don’t eat anything from an animal.”

“Vegan,” I said. “No, I’m not. Wouldn’t be in the business I was if I couldn’t eat all the delicious goodies the ocean has to offer.” I winced at my wording, my nervousness getting the better of me.

“Ah, that’s right,” he said. “Your… fish shop?”

I sat down at the other end of the table, the space between us so great that my father’s head was the size of a thumbnail.

“Crab cake truck,” I said, raising my voice to carry it across the table. “I make crab cakes.”

Despite the distance, I could still make out the look of confusion on his face.

“Yes, that’s right. Never in a million years did I imagine that my own daughter, the Princess of Edoria, would be making crab cakes for a living, but life is full of surprises, I suppose.”

“Got a problem with a little honest work?” I asked, a challenging tone to my voice.

“I’ve too many issues in the kingdom to consider such a matter a problem. However, there are many in Edoria who, if they knew the princess worked at all, let alone in such a way, would be appalled. a

“Well, I’ve never been one to worry about what other people think.”

“One look at your hair and that thing in your nose makes that abundantly clear.”

King, father, whatever, I was becoming a bit annoyed with how he was speaking to me. “You haven’t seen your daughter—me—in how long and this is the way you want to welcome her?”

“Twenty-two years,” he replied, his deep voice carrying across the room. “That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen you last. In person, that is.”

My father placed his hands on the table, closing his eyes for a moment. I had the sense he was trying not to get ahead of himself.

“My apologies. This meeting is… a bit difficult for me and I am trying to approach this in an appropriate way.”

I craned my neck, trying to see him past the candleholders on the table.

“Well, I’ve got an idea that might make it feel a little less weird.”

I stood up, and as I did, a set of doors opened. Two members of the serving staff entered, each of them carrying a tray of food.

“I’m actually going to sit there,” I said, pointing to a chair near the king.

“You’re what?” my father asked.

I flashed him a grin before heading over to one of the chairs near his end of the table and pulling it out. It was heavier than I’d guessed, a loud squeak sounding through the room that caught the attention of the staff. I dropped into the chair, now only a few feet from him.

“Better?”

I was close enough now that I could make out his expressions in more detail. My father was clearly surprised by what I’d done.

“It is closer, that’s for certain.”

The attendants brought over their trays, one of them glancing at my father, as if wordlessly asking him if this new arrangement was alright. He nodded, and within moments, food was placed in front of us.

“Trout from the Langford River,” he said. “Thought you’d appreciate a taste of our local seafood.”

The spread looked delicious. The trout was cooked to perfection, diced potatoes on the side with crispy edges, along with a small serving of green beans. I wasted no time sticking my fork into the trout and scooping off a bit.

“Verdict?” he asked as I chewed.

“Pretty damn good for a country in the middle of the mountains.”

My father nodded.

“Now,” he said. “I would like to know about your life. Tell me what you have been up to.”

“Not sure how to condense a couple of decades, but I’ll do my best.”

As we ate, I told him my life story—I told him that I lived with my mom and my half-sister until my mom passed away and how I’d gone into foster care because my sister’s father couldn’t be bothered to raise someone else’s kid. I told him about going to college, how I’d studied business before working at restaurants all around Seattle, then starting my own business when I felt I was ready.

He listened with an impassive look on his face, not reacting one way or another. It was totally impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“And now I’m here,” I said. “Princess-to-be.”

“Princess-to-be,” he repeated.

I glanced down to see that my plate was clear, but he had only taken a few bites. A quick glance at a grandfather clock on the wall revealed that twenty minutes had passed.

He looked away. Then without another word, he dabbed his mouth with his napkin and rose.

“Stay and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be receiving supper in my office tonight, so let the staff know whatever you’d like to eat.”

He left, his footfalls once again clicking on the floor.

“Uh…”

My word echoed in the room as he left, leaving me alone and wondering what the hell kind of father/daughter reunion I’d just experienced.