Royal Holiday

by McKenna James

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a couple of bushes moving about. I fired twice in the general direction of the movement, hoping to drive Oliver out of his hiding spot.

  “You missed me, sucker!” he sang, chipper and energetic thanks to the gallon of coffee he chugged while in the car. And maybe because of something else entirely.

  “Why are you in such a good mood today?” I asked, shifting from my position to hide behind a larger, sturdier steel barrel. Old paint was caked on its side, drip patterns marking it all the way down to the cold dirt ground beneath.

  “I met the hottest guy last night,” he explained.

  “Was it that chef I spotted you with?”

  “His name is Brandon, and he’s adorable.”

  I fired three shots over the edge of my cover. Nothing landed. “Is it going to be a spring wedding?” I asked.

  “One step at a time, my friend.” Oliver shot four pellets at me in retaliation. One narrowly missed the protective padding of my shoulder. “Plus, I’d kind of need to get his number and ask him out first.”

  “Why didn’t you do that while you were there?”

  “I, uh… I panicked, okay?”

  I jumped out from my hiding spot and fired in Oliver’s general direction, hitting him once in the chest, once in the thigh, and once in the center of his helmet’s visor. He put his hands up in surrender, rising from the barren little bush he was crouched behind.

  “Was he really that dreamy?” I asked, pulling off my helmet.

  “He really was,” he sighed distractedly. “But never mind me and my problems. I should really be the one grilling you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s the talk of the whole palace.” He laughed. “Apparently, some unknown party guest in a white knight costume was getting a little up close and personal with Princess Marina. I heard from a friend of a friend that she’s absolutely spellbound.”

  A bubbling excitement churned in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t say,” I said sheepishly.

  “I would have made you a spiffier costume if I’d have known you planned on making out with the Princess.”

  “No, I think that’d been going overboard?”

  Oliver raised his eyebrows at me. “Overboard? You mean like leaving her a single rose and kissing her under the mistletoe?”

  “I thought it was romantic,” I argued, shrugging my shoulders. “You didn’t tell anyone it was me, did you?”

  Oliver snorted. “What kind of a friend would I be if I did? I’m kind of interested to see how this all blows up in your face.”

  “Have a little faith in me, would you?”

  “Why didn’t you tell her who you were? What’s with all the dramatics?”

  “Things are…” I ran a hand through my hair, which was a little damp from the sweat I’d worked up. “Things are complicated at home.”

  “Ah,” he said, clicking his tongue. “The parents won’t approve.”

  “Right as always.”

  “Yours or hers?”

  “Probably both.”

  Oliver sighed. “I guess that makes sense. The rumor mill surrounding the King and your father are that things can get pretty nasty.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” I admitted. “Mother won’t tell me what’s going on. She says it’s none of my business. I thought Father was one of the King’s closest advisors.”

  “Emphasis on was.” Oliver clapped me on the back. “It’s been ten years since you’ve been back. Things change.”

  “I don’t know where that leaves me and Marina.”

  “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Tell her who you are sooner rather than later. I wouldn’t keep the poor girl waiting.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t plan to. I could use your help, actually.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “Oh?”

  “Calm down. It’s nothing illegal.”

  “Why would you say that? Now I know it’s definitely illegal.”

  I laughed, patting him on the arm as we headed back toward the range’s front gates. “Trust me, would you? I just need you to deliver something for me. Marina knows you, so you’ll be able to gain access to the palace.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s in it for me?”

  “For one, you’d probably run into Brandon again.”

  “I do like the sound of that.”

  I grinned. “I thought you might. Plus, you’d be doing me a huge favor.”

  Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I have a feeling you’re not going to let me go until I agree.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “Fine, fine. Just promise to bail me out if I get in trouble. My reputation’s on the line here.”

  I placed a hand over my heart and nodded. “I promise.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Marina

  No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop daydreaming about my mystery man.

  He said we’d meet again, but I had no idea when and where. He spoke to me in such a familiar tone that it was almost surprising, like we were old friends who went way back. Very few people in the palace—in the whole kingdom, for that matter—would dare to speak to me so casually. But there was an ease to him, a lightness about his personality that drew me in. There was something undeniably attractive about him, and his air of secrecy only added to his charms.

  My mind would wander without my permission, bringing me back to the moment our lips brushed together for the first time. It had all been so magical I had to pinch myself several times after he left to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. It was very possible that I’d fallen asleep in my library, fabricating the whole encounter. But the sting of cold wind against my cheeks and the thumping of my heart clamoring in my ear told me that this was indeed reality.

  I wandered down the hall of the west wing toward Father’s private chambers. It was such a lovely day outside that I thought it might be nice to ask him and Mother for a quick stroll out in the gardens. Father had been stuck behind his desk a lot, trying to keep up with the demands of his people—especially now that war with Allendes was looking more and more inevitable. Even though I was the next in line to the throne, I wasn’t privy to Father’s private meetings with his close circle of advisors. I liked to keep well-versed about the kingdom’s concerns, but there were some secrets I wasn’t allowed to be in on.

  Truthfully, I didn’t want to see Brooklandia go to war. I could understand all of my father’s stances. There had always been a bit of tension on the northern border between Allendes and us, but only recently had things become more violent. Locals in the area claimed that they were of Allendesian decent, and therefore their land belonged to them. But on the official maps and encyclopedias I’d breezed through, the area had historically belonged to my family. There were other incredibly complicated factors like how most trade routes in the region were Brooklandian, and the people themselves spoke Allendesian, but they followed my kingdom’s laws. It was just too complicated, and it would have been a disservice to trivialize the matter by labeling the situation a simple squabble.

  As I approached my father’s private study at the end of the hall, muffled voices of a group of men began to become clearer. One voice was Father, distinguishable by his low tone and slow way of speaking. Father never said a word without purpose, and always spoke in a manner that forced people to listen. He commanded the flow of conversation as easily as the winds commanded the weather. The other voices—I could make out a total of three others—were all yelling over one another, words overlapping to make for an incoherent mess.

  “Enough!” snapped Father, voice clear even on the other side of the door.

  I knew I shouldn’t stick around to listen. This was government business, and I played no part in it yet. Any political decisions that were made were my father’s alone.

  “If this monarchy survives, it will be a miracle,” snapp
ed the first man. His voice, although a bit muffled, was recognizable. He had a distinct lilt to his words, the trace of an accent riding on the ends of his syllables. It was none other than Senator Richard Sabatino, one of Father’s fiercest foes.

  I’d met Richard Sabatino a handful of times, though his appearance at the palace was an increasing rarity ever since his open denunciation of Father’s call to station troops by the border to protect Brooklandian interests. I thought it was sad, really, to see how quickly an old and trusted advisor could become the Crown’s most devilish and treacherous foe. The Sabatinos used to come around the palace a lot when I was a little girl, bringing along with them their son to keep me company. It had been years since I last saw Rodrigo. The memory I had of him was still of that cute little boy with wobbly knees, bucked teeth, an adorable splash of freckles, and ears that looked a bit too big on him. When he moved away, we promised to stay in touch. But as time went on, we drifted apart. It was a very uncommon occasion if I ever thought about him nowadays.

  “Shut up, Sabatino!” snapped one of the other men in the room. “How can you talk to the King with so much disrespect?”

  “Your Majesty,” hissed the other man, “Sabatino is hellbent on removing your power of absolute monarchy. He must be punished before it’s too late.”

  “I’m not going down without a fight, Paulson,” growled Senator Sabatino. “I have hundreds of people backing me. If something were to happen, there’d be a revolt.”

  “You’re planning a revolt?” shrieked one of the other advisors. “Your Majesty, this cannot stand.”

  “Be quiet, all of you,” Father said. Exhaustion dripped off of his every word. “My decision is final. All young men and women above the age of eighteen will be required to enlist for mandatory military service.”

  “You can’t do this!” Senator Sabatino yelled. “This isn’t what the people want. This isn’t going to be good for the kingdom.”

  “I am the kingdom!” Father boomed.

  The anger in his voice sent a chill down my spine and made every muscle fiber in my body clench tight out of fear. Father wasn’t the kind of person to raise his voice. He normally didn’t need to. It scared me to hear him so upset. I knew I’d stayed long enough, overheard far too much. I needed to leave before I was caught eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a closed-door meeting. Turning quickly, I scurried down the hall back toward my bedroom.

  My mind was spinning with questions I had no answers to. Revolt? Mandatory military service? Sabatino’s plan to remove the Crown’s power? Mystery party guests who promised to see me again? What was going on? What had everything come to? Only a nap would calm my confusion.

  Before I could stumble through my bedroom doors and flop onto the soft and cool silk sheets, I spotted a familiar face lingering in the hall just outside. The man was dressed in a bespoke suit, dazzling silver cufflinks with set emeralds sparkling at his wrists. His shoes were just as fancy, the soles bright violet—a signature look of the Oliver Smith shoe collection.

  “Oliver?” I asked as I approached, breaking into a smile.

  He grinned at me, standing a bit straighter before bowing slightly. “Good morning, Princess Marina.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, happy to see a friendly face after all the hostile things I’d just heard. “It’s so good to see you again. Did we have an appointment that I forgot about?”

  Oliver chuckled. “No, no appointment. I actually wanted to see if you had a moment to discuss a charity opportunity. I’d usually call, but I was in the area and wanted to drop in. I hear that I’m fantastic company.”

  “That sounds lovely. I’ll call one of the maids to bring us some tea.”

  I led Oliver into my bedroom. It was actually a suite with a large space designated as a living room, an en-suite bathroom in the corner, a walk-in closet next to the giant floor-to-ceiling windows, and a raised step platform nearer toward the back that led to my four-post mahogany bed. We sat on the couch, sprawled out amongst fluffy pillows of velvet and knitted throw blankets.

  “I was surprised to see you yesterday at the ball,” I said.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to say hello. You seemed rather…” He pumped his eyebrows at me. “Preoccupied with someone.”

  I unconsciously touched both my cheeks with my fingertips, feeling how warm the skin had become at the mere mention of the knight. “No one can tell me who he is. He wasn’t officially on the guest list, but he had an invite. I don’t know how he got it.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “Now that I think about it, how did you get in?”

  He suddenly coughed, attempted to clear his throat. There was something about the shiftiness in his eyes that had me wondering if he knew more than he was letting on.

  “The ball committee sent me an invite, seeing as I was your designer,” he said hurriedly.

  “Ball committee? What ball committee?”

  “Anyway,” he breathed. “I’m actually hoping to team up with you. Brooklandian winters are known to be incredibly cold, and there’s been a rise in homelessness these last few years. More people are going to be spending the holidays out in the streets, so I wanted to see what we could do to deliver warm clothes and blankets to the less fortunate.”

  “That sounds wonderful! How can I help?”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d spearhead the campaign. It’d be good press for the Crown, I think.”

  I thought quietly for a moment. I really did want to help my people. It was no secret that the kingdom’s economy had stalled significantly in recent years, resulting in many layoffs. Nothing would warm my heart more than to be able to give to those most deserving. But the other half of my brain—the more logical side—was also considering the optics of such a project. I thought back to my father’s private meeting and what I’d overheard. It sounded like his most recent decisions were very unpopular with both the people and some members of parliament. Maybe a charity campaign attached to my name could help win the Crown some of its popularity back. As far as I could see, there was really no downside to agreeing to Oliver’s request.

  “You know what?” I said. “I think it’s a great idea.”

  Oliver clapped his hands and smiled wide. “Excellent. I can’t wait to get started. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  “Maybe I’ll send for some snacks as well. Just in case we get hungry.”

  His eyes brightened suddenly, a faint shade of pink coloring his cheeks. “Will, uh… Will Brandon be making them?”

  I smirked. “Maybe?”

  “Ah, I see. Has he, um… You don’t happen to know if he’s said anything about me, do you?”

  I giggled. “Shall I call him up here so we can find out?”

  “No!” he exclaimed. He chuckled anxiously. “No, that’s okay. I, uh… I wouldn’t want to disturb him. I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “If you insist.” I rose from my seat. “I’ll just give the house attendant a quick list, and we can discuss things further.”

  “Excellent. Sounds like a plan.”

  I left my bedroom momentarily to find one of the nearest maids just a few meters down the hall. It was very rare to find the palace so empty. I had to assume that the staff were busy decorating for Christmas. After requesting that some chocolate croissants be brought to my room, I returned. Much to my surprise, Oliver was nowhere to be seen.

  Looking about the space, a little red envelope sitting upon my pillow happened to catch my eye. My brows knitted together in confusion as I moved to inspect it. Written on the front in beautiful script, it read: Open me!

  My normal reaction would have been to call the guards and tell them that someone had left a suspicious package for me. There was no telling what was inside. It could have been a bomb—though its size made that improbable—or it could have been full of toxic powder. As a member of the Royal Family, there was no shortage of enemies who’d wish me harm. What concerned me most was that the letter ha
d been delivered directly to my private chambers. I tried to think logically, tried to keep calm. Was there a chance the sender was still in the room with me? Was Oliver up to something mischievous?

  No, I knew Oliver well. He was a sweet, energetic soul who would never dare harm a fly. And it didn’t look like there was anybody else in my room with me.

  I flipped the envelope over to find a golden wax seal stamped onto it. The crest was a simple rose, curving slightly to the left to show off its soft petals. Something about this letter intrigued me, left something electric tingling in the pit of my stomach. I held my breath—just in case there really was some sort of harmful powder within—and ripped the red envelope open.

  Inside, I found a single card no bigger than my palm. On one side, someone had written a message for me. In the same script that was on the front of the envelope, it read: I look forward to kissing your lips again. On the back, it read: 13 days.

  “The white knight,” I realized aloud. It had to be. We were alone on the veranda, and only we knew of the kiss we shared. But what did he mean by thirteen days? Was this some sort of countdown? And how on Earth had the knight managed to deliver his message without getting caught?

  My heart was fluttering in my chest like a hummingbird, beating a thousand times in a minute. My cheeks were warm, and my ears burned hot like fire. Was this really happening?

  Outside in the hall, I happened to hear Oliver’s voice drift in. I poked my head out to find him casually leaning against a wall, speaking to a blushing Brandon.

  “Oliver!” I exclaimed, running to him with the message in my hand outstretched. “Look!”

  Brandon looked a little annoyed that I was butting in, but I wasn’t concerned. I had more important things to worry about, and I could always argue that I was a princess and therefore took priority. Oliver took the card and looked it over, frowning in confusion.