"I mean…that is some GREEN, man."
"Ten thousand notes. I know."
Kerry opened his mouth and shut it a few times before speaking. "Ten. Thousand. Notes," he whispered in disbelief. "What are you going to do with it?"
I shrugged. "Replace my bike and give the rest to the shelter, probably."
"Oh, c'mon, Kostas. Live a little."
"I don't want their blood money," I said, taking offense to the implication. "They only paid me to keep me quiet. "I smirked slightly. "And I don't need anything except a new bike, since you refuse to fix mine."
"Dude, let it go; the bike's unfixable. And it's not blood money. It's a fucking bribe. You deserve to enjoy yourself. Go on vacation. Go lay on a beach and get laid in your hotel room. Or, you know, get laid on the beach and lay in your hotel room. I'm not judging."
I shook my head. "I don't want it. I'm donating it to people who need it. It will do the most good there. It fucking slays me that these—"
I had to stop before I gave away that it was the princess who had been behind the accident. It wasn't that I wanted to honor the unspoken agreement between myself and her advisor as he forced the notes into my hand. I really just wanted to forget the whole thing.
Once the money was gone—and whatever photos the press had gotten were dropped for other news—I could just move on with my life. I could forget I'd ever met the Princess of Justana. Forget how bright blue her eyes were up close. Forget how the silk of her dress accentuated her curves. The feel of her hand in mine. The slightly sweet, floral scent that wafted off her whenever she moved.
Forget that I ripped up a check for twenty thousand notes and threw it in her face because she was a clueless aristocrat.
"These people who have money to throw around as bribes while there are still homeless and hungry masses lining the streets," I finally finished.
Kerry sighed, likely knowing there was no arguing with me on the subject.
"Don't you sigh at me like that. I'm not going on a tirade."
"That's right!" Kerry snapped his fingers. "Because remember my only rule for hanging out in here?"
"No political tirades in the garage. Yes. I know. I remember."
"Esker!" The shout echoed off the wall of the garage, making everyone else go quiet. We both looked up towards the door at the other end of the large room. Our boss, Mr. Everton, stood at the other end.
"Sounds like it's for you, dude."
I exhaled noisily and jogged off in the direction of the door, still holding my bike seat in hand.
I wasn't sure what to expect when I approached my boss, but a smile definitely had not been on the list of possibilities. Yet there it was. It was downright eerie.
"You have…some visitors."
I frowned. "Who?"
"A reporter and a photographer from the Daily Justanian."
I snorted. "No really. Who?"
Everton pushed me through the door, all the way past the main lobby and back to his office, taking the bike seat from my hand in the process. Couriers only went to Everton's office if they were about to get promoted or fired.
Or, apparently, if they were going to be interviewed for the paper.
I had no doubt in my mind about the nature of the interview. Not that I knew what to say about any of it. Other than nothing.
I skidded to a halt. "I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't? Go in there and make us look good."
I shook I head. "I can't. Just… please, make them go away."
We didn't have the best relationship, but Mr. Everton had never complained about my work. I have never made a late delivery and I worked well with others. There had never been any grievances from clients. I hoped that would buy me a little leeway.
Mr. Everton sighed, looking disappointed. Thankfully, he didn't press. "I'll get rid of them. I'll tell them you're out for a delivery or something. Just…go hide behind the front desk."
Ten awkward minutes under the receptionist's desk later, I was sitting in Everton's office, stealing a handful of lemon drops from the candy bowl on his desk. At his insistence, I spilled every single detail of my horrible afternoon. I ended up getting a week off with pay, which wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting, but it was nice. Especially since I wouldn't be using the notes I'd received from the princess for myself.
"Do me a favor, Esker?" my boss called after me as I was walking out the door.
"Sir?"
"Go have fun somewhere. Don't spend your entire vacation volunteering again."
I chuckled as I left the office. Apparently, I had a reputation. It could be worse.
CHAPTER THREE
Violet
The boat dedication was as big an event as there ever had been in Justana. George had been one hundred percent right on that front, at least.
We passed by rows and rows of picketers just outside the harbor, one of whom promptly dumped their coffee on top of the car. I didn't see what happened after, because we were admitted into the shipyard and the angry swirling crowd disappeared from my periphery.
My heart was still in my throat after that terrible incident with Kostas Esker, the man who currently held the prize for being the angriest bike courier in Tinerly. The coffee dripping down the windows of the limo didn't help matters.
There was a serious problem with the country's policies, given the number of people they affected. It didn't take a political science genius to see that, as evidenced by my own brain coming to that conclusion all on its own.
The country had been run the same way practically forever. Basically, there were monarchs and there was a council of representatives from each quadrant of the country. The representatives were elected by popular vote in bi-annual elections. Those elected were invariably stuffy old aristocrats, since they were the ones who had the money to sink into a campaign. None of this was hidden away from the public or from anyone involved, but that didn't make it right either.
I made a note to speak with my father about all of it. Not today, obviously. We had to attend the boat dedication and I doubted I would see him for longer than it took for me to read my Latin passages and break a bottle of champagne over the hull of the ship.
Especially if George, who was dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief and muttering to himself as he rearranged my agenda for the umpteenth time on his phone, had anything to say about it.
All thoughts of any kind of speaking went completely out of my head when the limo parked and I was rushed out of it.
I was hurried up several ramps that lead directly to a platform erected in front of the enormous liner. It was ridiculously large. I had to crane my neck to look up and see the entirety of it from the ground. And I didn't even have a ton of time for that, given George's insistent push at my back.
I was thrust up in front of a microphone, a teleprompter rolling so I could read the Latin passage someone else had picked out for me into it without tripping up too much.
I memorized things very easily, so it was easy to remember the correct pronunciations of the words as they rattled off my tongue, through the speaker system, and out over the huge crowd.
There was clapping and cheering from the audience which, as I scanned it, looked to be comprised completely of upper-middle-class and upper-class socialites. Members of the court and otherwise. That would explain the cheering in lieu of jeering. With a fixed smile upon my face, a trick I'd learned from years of public appearances that helped me avoid face cramps, I stood beside my father and broke a bottle of champagne across the bow of The Sofia.
Afterwards, I had to greet each member of the Etrian royal family who had deigned to show up to the dedication. As it was, there were only five of them there, one of whom was Prince Gideon. His sister was also in attendance. The other three were King Adam, his wife, Queen Sofia (for whom the ship had been named) and Prince Robert of Bruik Shoals, the king's brother and the queen's other husband.
Yes, two husbands. That wasn't so uncommon in Etria, from my understa
nding. It made sense, definitely, in their position. To hear anyone tell it, before she'd become the queen of Etria, Sofia hadn't been able to choose between brothers. So, she married them both. She loved both of them equally and they were apparently quite happy with their arrangement. It was still a topic of contention in some of the more conservative circles, of which there were many in Justana, but I failed to see how it was anyone's business how people conducted their marriage.
I approached the King first, as was the custom. He took both my hands even though I'd only offered one. He kissed them, squeezing them tightly. "Princess Violet, you grow more beautiful every time I see you!"
I grinned in response, squeezing his hands as well, though mostly because it felt strange and I was eager to move on. "I thank you, Your Majesty. But we haven't seen each other in nearly four years!"
"Four years! That can't be right!" he boomed good-naturedly.
It was right, but I supposed that was beside the point. I laughed with him, to be polite.
"You remember my son, Gideon?" he asked, making the world's poorest segue ever.
Bad segue or not, I turned, looking over and up, up, up, into the warm, brown eyes of Gideon Stalswift. I certainly did remember him. As my memory served, he was boisterous and full of himself, but devastatingly handsome. That certainly hadn't changed.
His blond hair was cut close to his head, but in such a fashionable way, I wasn't surprised that he graced the covers of many magazines back in Etria. Hell, I'd let him be on all the magazines here if it meant I got to look at him more often.
Once he opened his mouth, however, it was clear that looking at him still proved to be the most attractive way to interact with Gideon. It wasn't that he was rude. It was that he was loud. It seemed my memory of the prince had stood the test of time after all.
"Princess Violet!" he exclaimed, leaning down to wrap me up in a big bear hug, lifting me clean up off the ground in the process. It was tight. It was awkward. It forced me to hang on around his shoulders for dear life. And it was definitely, definitely wrinkling my dress. "It's been a while."
I giggled nervously, blushing and feeling a bit more awkward than probably I should given that this wasn't our first meeting. "Four years."
"Lies!" he insisted, placing me back down on my feet in front of him. "It's been no longer than two. At most."
"No, it's been four," I insisted, but was pushed down the line by George as my father started to approach Gideon.
"Violet, we'll take a tour of the liner later, alright?" the prince called after me as I was hurried away. I didn't get a chance to reply, but George did it for me, so I suppose all was technically well.
"Her Highness would love to join you, Prince Gideon!" he called.
I wasn't sure about loving to join him, not that I had a say in it either way. Gideon had already assumed I would be joining him, judging by the wording of his invitation, and George had accepted without my input at all.
But still, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened. I supposed someone could have plowed into me with their limousine as I attempted to cross the street.
The thought, though unbidden, made me want to hide behind something to escape the memory.
But I couldn't hide behind anything, I had to speak with the Queen of Etria.
I shook hands with Queen Sofia. "You look lovely, Violet," she said warmly. "You're stunning in that dress."
"Hello, your Majesty…" I curtseyed and took her offered hand, bending to kiss it, as was tradition, before continuing. "It's made from the silk you sent me for my birthday. Thank you again for your gracious gift."
"I see Gideon's invited you to tour the ship with him later?" she asked.
"He has, ma'am."
She smiled fondly over at her eldest son. "He might seem loud and boisterous, but he's really a tenderheart, my dear."
I somehow doubted that. It was likely a mother's bias coming through. I nodded and agreed all the same. Manners ruled in any and all royal interchange.
Following the queen was the second in line for the throne, Princess Gwendolyn. She was younger than I, but not by many years. She was in her second year at college and was doing quite well, from what I had heard.
She took both my hands in a similar manner to her mother and smiled warmly at me. "Princess Violet!"
She had the same striking brown eyes as Gideon. Her hair was a few shades lighter than his.
"Princess Gwendolyn!" I leaned forward to kiss her cheek. She did the same. There wasn't much time for conversation, however. George had my agenda planned down to the minute and socializing without marital agenda apparently wasn't accounted for.
Next, I was ushered to Prince Robert. He had darker hair than his brother, the king, with just the tiniest tinge of gray around his temples. He smiled warmly at me as he took my hand gently. "Princess Violet."
"Your Highness," I bowed my head and he did the same. "I hope your trip was comfortable."
"It was," he replied. "Justana continues to be one of my favorite places to visit."
I never knew what to say to Prince Robert, so it invariably fell back on benign small talk immediately. He was a military man, whereas the king was not, so he tended more towards stoic in social settings.
"Etria is just as beautiful," I said in reply, smiling widely as he leaned down to kiss my hand. His movements were perfunctory. I might have even called him boring if it weren't for what happened next.
Queen Sofia let out a laugh, a contagious, melodious sound. I turned, as did Robert, and when I glanced back at him, the pure adoration I saw in his gaze turned my previous opinion of him on end. He wasn't boring perhaps, merely introverted. He clearly loved his wife. Enough to come along to the social obligations that seemed to bring him discomfort.
How could I say anything bad about a man who prefered keeping to himself and loved his wife?
Though I hadn't been in the pseudo receiving line long, the day had stretched enough that my stomach was growling by the time I'd finished speaking with Robert.
"I'm hungry," I mouthed to Amanda. She linked her arm through mine and whisked me through the crowds and towards the caterer's tent.
I was soon munching on a plate of cut fruit and crackers.
Amanda nicked a piece of pineapple from me, but I didn't mind, really. She'd gotten me where I needed to be, so it wasn't a huge deal if she stole a piece of fruit. She was chewing it rather roughly, though, gazing out of the tent and up to where the Etrian Royals were milling around.
Gideon in particular, it seemed, was her primary focus.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Huh?" she answered, blinking rapidly.
"What do you think about Prince Gideon?" I asked, chuckling a little at her obvious kerflufflement.
"Oh," she laughed nervously, stealing another piece of fruit. "I think… I think he's just dreamy."
I leaned on my hand over the table, a very unladylike pose, but the beauty of Prince Gideon did not invoke my ladylike side. I wasn't sure what he invoked, but ladylike temperament was definitely not it.
I hummed softly. "He is dreamy, I'll give him that."
"What's wrong with him?" Amanda asked, obviously picking up on my intonation.
"Nothing really. But… he's loud. And he just assumes I'm going to be doing things with him. He's kind of… full of himself. But not cocky. It's more like… He just knows he's going to get his way."
Amanda snickered. "Right and I don't know anyone else like that at all."
"Hey," I giggled, reaching over to playfully swat her shoulder. "I'm not like that, am I?"
"Nah. You're delightfully naive, but you aren't full of yourself."
"Thank you," I said, even though it wasn't much of a compliment.
"If I were you, I'd give him another chance. Like Her Majesty said," Amanda continued. "I'll bet that conceited, all knowing act is just that. An act."
I cocked my head to the side, peering at the handsome man now walking towards me. M
aybe Amanda was right. Maybe Queen Sofia was right. Or maybe I just wanted to believe it.
Because Gideon was beautiful.
"Are you ready for the tour of the ship, Violet?" Gideon asked, his eyes twinkling as he offered me his arm.
"You can call me Vi," I said, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. It fit very well there. "You used to when we were little."
Gideon chuckled. "I wasn't sure if you were still using that nickname. I didn't want to overstep."
"Right," I laughed. "Wouldn't want to make things too comfortable."
"Agreed," he replied, picking up on my sardonic tone immediately and running with it. "I like to keep things awkward and terse. First names only. No nicknames. If I can mispronounce it, all the better…" He trailed off, glancing down at me as we walked towards the gangplank. "I'm kidding, of course."
"I know, and it's… welcome," I replied, locking eyes with him as we stepped onto the narrow gangplank. My shoes clicked on the wood. Gideon straightened his arm to allow me to go first.
My hand trailed down his arm by complete accident, but he ended up lacing his fingers with mine, so it was a very lucky accident indeed.
When we reached the top, the two deckhands who were standing there to greet us quickly bowed. It was a sort-of-rushed gesture that they vehemently apologized for despite the total lack of offense caused. .
Gideon offered his arm to me once more after we'd acknowledged the deck hands, and we began our stroll around the deck.
George was just ahead, having already boarded while I was having my snack which would probably end up being dinner if precedent was any indication. He waved at us frantically, walking quickly back towards us as we made our way slowly down the length of the deck.
"Your Highnesses, Princess Violet and Prince Gideon, would you mind posing for a few pictures with the Captain of the Sofia?"
I knew George enough to know that this little assertion wasn't actually a request, no matter how ass-kissingly saccharine his tone was. I nodded graciously all the same, and Gideon followed suit.
When the flashes started flickering, I was suddenly brought straight back to earlier that afternoon. My expression froze on my face as I remembered, in vivid detail, the absoluteness of the idiot I'd made of myself.
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