by B. B. Hamel
Women and minorities are treated with equality and respect, at least under the law. There are still old, outdated attitudes toward women working and having sex, but it’s getting better all the time. And there’s still a fear and a hatred of outsiders and foreigners.
For whatever reason, in every country, people always fear immigrants and those that look different from them. I never understood it. I’m an American immigrant, and I’ve done nothing but build an enormous company that employs thousands of hardworking Americans. The world is always changing, but people aren’t able to change with it sometimes, and they end up blaming their problems on others. Bellestan has its fair share of that. People are unsure of outsiders and are afraid that they’ll destroy the Bellestanian culture.
That won’t happen, of course, not if people don’t want it to. Really, people should be excited to see Koreans, Mexicans, Slavs, and Poles moving into their neighborhoods. The food alone is worth it.
Hopefully that’s something I’ll be able to help with. When I’m King, I’ll do my best to change people’s attitudes, to show them that they don’t have to be afraid of foreigners. We’ll be an open and welcoming society of people that live together as equals, no matter where they come from.
That’s in the future, though. Right now, we pull up out front of the little bakery and climb out.
“It’s cute,” Mila says.
“They make really good stuff.”
“Are they famous?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. They’re as local as it gets. Come on.”
The owners of the bakery are an old married couple, now in their late sixties. I shake hands with Ricky and I kiss the cheek of Rian. I always smile when I think of Ricky and Rian.
We go inside and the reporters follow. It’s a pretty standard event. We make small talk, taste the bread, and get some pictures. Mila does remarkably well, though people aren’t speaking English most of the time. She politely smiles and pays attention, even if she can’t understand. But most importantly, she seems to genuinely love the food, and I can tell that Ricky and Rian are a fan of her.
When the photographs are finished, we head back outside. “Is this what it’s like, being Prince?” she asks me.
I laugh and shake my head. “No, not at all. This sort of thing is part of it, but this is just a PR thing and everyone knows it. It’s mostly just because we’re visiting.”
“So when you’re King, you won’t visit those two?” she asks me.
I give her a sly smile. “I didn’t say that.”
We climb into the car and head off to our next destination, a tire factory not far from here. It’s in a more densely populated part of the outlying villages, and as we get closer, I notice that there are more people out in the streets. Houses and shops are packed more closely together, almost resembling a small town back in America. People are lined up in the streets, most of them silently watching as our cars drive past.
“What are they doing?” Mila asks me.
“I don’t know,” I respond. “Aleks, what’s going on?”
“I’m not sure, my Prince,” he says. He picks up his walkie and speaks in Bellestanian. “Everyone, be careful. I don’t like the looks of these people.”
There’s some chatter over the walkie-talkie, but I go back to watching the people. They don’t seem aggressive, but they don’t seem happy, either. It’s strange. They clearly are out here for us, since I can’t see any other reason why so many people would line up like this outside, but they’re not doing anything. There are no signs, no slogans, no chanting, just quiet faces watching us drive by.
We reach the factory not long later, and we quickly go inside. The mobs are left behind us, and soon we get lost in the tour of the factory, lead by the foreman named Ravi, a kind Pakistani man. The reporters take their pictures, we have our small talk, and soon this leg of the morning is over. We’re back in the cars and heading out to our next destination.
The guard car is in the lead with our car in the middle and the reporters bringing up the rear. We’re driving through the town we came through not long ago, with the silent mobs watching us pass. This time, however, as the lead car moves through the most densely-packed intersection, it slows down then comes to a stop.
“What the fuck?” Aleks asks. He gets on the walkie. “What’s happening?”
“There’s something in the road,” the guard responds.
“Can you get around?”
“Not with all the fucking people.”
My heart starts to race. “Tell them to clear it,” I say to Aleks.
He glances back at me. “It’s too dangerous to leave the cars.”
“Fuck,” I say softly. “What do we do?”
Aleks chews on that for a second. “Can you get over it?” he asks the lead car.
“No,” he says. “It’s a bunch of shopping carts with rocks in them.”
Aleks curses and I glance at Mila. We’re speaking in Bellestanian, but she can tell that something is off.
“What’s happening?” she whispers.
“Stay here.” I open the door.
“What the fuck are you doing, Bran?” Aleks calls after me.
I just ignore him. These are my people. I don’t think they’d hurt their Prince, even if they are unhappy with my family. Maybe I’m stupid as fuck, but something needs to be done, and I have to be brave.
I shut the door behind me and head up toward the lead car, heart racing in my chest.
16
Mila
“What the fuck are you doing, Bran?”
I stare, my heart racing, as Bran steps out of the car.
“Wait!” I yell. “Bran, stop!”
“Fuck,” Aleks says, and then speaks Bellestanian into his walkie. I get the sense that things are very, very bad, though. He looks back at me. “Under no circumstances will you leave this fucking car, understand?”
“Bran’s out there,” I say wildly.
“Mila,” Aleks says sharply. “Bran will be fine. He’s tough. You stay here, understand?”
I nod once, my mind racing.
“Good. Artur, stay with her.” Aleks pushes open his door and steps out.
Artur, the other guard, glances back at me then watches his boss, a worried expression on his face.
I slide across the back seat and roll down the window.
“Please, no,” Artur says, but I ignore him. I get the window down and lean out.
The crowd is beginning to murmur. I watch as Bran, followed closely by Aleks, walks up to the lead car. Bran says something to the men inside the car, and they all slowly get out. Bran turns and waves to the crowd almost as if nothing strange were happening, like it was some regular photo op.
I hear more murmuring from the crowd, and I start to hear something very clear being said over and over again.
”Prince Bran.”
Nobody moves toward Bran and his guards as the men start to slowly push the shopping carts out of the way. The crowd doesn’t help, but they do get out of the way as the carts are moved out of the road. It feels like it takes forever, and the crowd keeps mumbling Bran’s name.
For his part, Bran doesn’t look afraid. He smiles and waves and even laughs as he pushes the cart. I catch sight of a man in the crowd near Bran laughing along with him, like the two men just shared a joke.
Slowly, the vibe starts to change. Things felt horrible and on edge when we first stopped, but the crowd feels like it’s shifting. People start to call out Bran’s name more loudly, and he waves when they do. One young girl even runs up to him and takes a selfie with him. People nearby are speaking to him as his guards finish moving the shopping carts, and Bran embraces the crowd, laughing and talking with them.
Soon, he’s shaking hands, and things feel okay. Aleks still looks nervous as hell but the road is clear and the people aren’t revolting. If anything, people are clamoring to get a picture with Bran. He’s so damn charming and handsome, it’s almost as if the people can’t help bu
t like him. He laughs and takes a picture with a group of old women, and one of the women kisses him on the mouth, which makes the whole crowd erupt in cheers and laughter.
Bran waves and speaks to them. I don’t know what he’s saying, since everyone is speaking Bellestanian, but they seem happy.
That’s when the reporters start to join the group. They walk up tentatively and start taking pictures.
“Where’s the Princess?” someone in the crowd yells, and Bran laughs. He points back to me and motions for me to join him. I look over at Artur who frowns at me, but Aleks waves, indicating that it’s okay.
Slowly, I climb out of the car, and the crowd erupts into cheers. I can’t help but smile. Two guards flank me on either side, with Artur in the back, as we head over to where Bran is smiling.
I walk up to him and he embraces me. He looks at the crowd then kisses me, a little on the chaste side, but the crowd eats it up.
“Prince Bran! Princess Mila!” they shout.
“Thank you, everybody,” I yell and wave.
I shake a few hands and old women kiss my cheeks. I can feel the reporters getting closer, taking pictures and writing on little notepads. Bran keeps me close under his arm, smiling and waving, but clearly he’s not trusting these people just yet.
They keep speaking in Bellestanian, and I just smile and nod as we slowly move back toward our car. The crowd moves with us, but nobody gets in the way or impedes our progress. After a few minutes, we’re back at the car, and Bran has his hand on the door.
That’s when it happens.
I don’t know where the rock comes from. I don’t see it at all. But one second Bran is holding onto the handle, and the next second a rock smashes into the window next to his head. It misses him by inches and cracks the window but doesn’t break it.
Instantly, guards surround us, and there are screams. More rocks get thrown and the crowd suddenly changes. People are running away as the guards draw their guns and point them. Bran is screaming at the guards, but the men are grabbing people from the crowd and punching them, clearing a space.
Aleks appears next to us. “In the fucking car,” he says. He throws the door open and Bran pushes me inside.
The two men shout at each other in Bellestanian.
“Bran, come on!” I say. “Get in the car!”
“Fuck!” he yells. “I had this under control.”
“You can’t control everything,” Aleks says. “Get in, we have to go.”
Bran gives one more look at the chaos, curses again, and gets into the car.
Aleks gets in the front seat and puts the car in gear. He has to drive slowly because of all the people running around, but we manage to make it clear of the chaos.
The last thing I see is three guards kicking a man with a handkerchief over his face as we speed away from the scene.
“Fuck,” Bran says. “Did you see where that came from, Aleks? It was the fucking opposition.”
“Of course it was,” Aleks says, his face calm now that we are clear.
“They set this up. You know that, right?”
Aleks hesitates. “It’s likely.”
“Likely? Fuck that. They did this.”
“What can we do, Bran?”
“I don’t know, but Perko is going to pay for this. That fucking cunt paid some assholes to set that little roadblock up and leaked our route. Most of the people out there just wanted to see me! It took just one fucking asshole with a rock and an agenda to set the whole thing on fire.”
I bite my lip, watching Bran. I’ve never seen him so angry, but I can’t blame him. He had the crowd under control. Frankly, he had them eating out of his palm, and they loved him for it. He was charming and kind and they clearly were happy that he was there in their little village.
All until that rock. Things were going great. Now, the story is going to be about the attack, not about how Bran changed the whole vibe of the crowd and won them over simply by being brave and charming.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say softly to him.
He sighs. “I know it wasn’t. But I was so close. I did so well.”
“I know you did.” I reach out and take his hand. He squeezes my fingers and looks at me. “I’m proud of you. What you did back there, that was brave.”
“Stupid,” Aleks mutters.
Bran frowns at me. “Fuck, Mila. I put you in danger.”
“I’m fine, though.”
“You’re fine, but we’re lucky. If that rock was thrown earlier, or if he missed and hit you…” Bran trails off, eyes wide.
“Bran, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I was the one that allowed her to come out,” Aleks says.
“It was my idea. Mila, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop,” I say. “Bran. You didn’t do anything. You were brave and amazing back there. This is Perko’s fault, not yours.”
He nods once and chews his lip before looking away. He gazes back out the window and I know he wants to be left alone for the moment, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.
We ride back to the castle like that, hand in hand. Aleks doesn’t speak. When we get back, we learn that the reporters are all safe and the guards are fine. They arrested a few people from the crowd, but nobody knows who actually started the whole thing. Nobody was seriously injured, thankfully, but the story coming out of the press camp isn’t good.
I know Bran blames himself, but it wasn’t his fault. I do know one thing for sure now, though.
This game of royal politics is dangerous. And I’m going to have to be careful.
17
Bran
I can’t sleep. I know it’s not going to happen tonight no matter what I do.
I just keep seeing the rock that almost hits Mila. It flies through the air and smashes into the car with a sickening crunch. I keep picturing that rock hitting Mila’s head instead of the car, breaking her skull, causing blood to roll down her face.
I sit up and get out of bed. I pour myself a drink, but that’s not helping.
I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t expect it to actually be dangerous. I hoped that we’d be able to do some PR spots, show the country that I’m with a beautiful woman and that the royal line is going to continue, and hopefully that would help my parents with their difficulties.
Clearly, I was wrong. There is far more discontent in the country than I suspected, though I think a lot of that is because of Perko and his people.
I had the crowd under control. That’s the most frustrating part of all this. I had them eating out of my hand and they were loving it. They wanted to see Mila, wanted to touch her and take pictures with her. I thought they were angry, but they were actually just curious.
It was only a few bad apples in the crowd. I think Perko planted those people in there to cause a scene. It’s already all over the news and online, but I haven’t brought myself to read the articles yet.
I feel so angry I can barely breathe. Not because of what Perko did, though that was low and snake-like, even for him. No, I’m angry at that bastard for almost hurting Mila. I could handle getting hurt, but Mila should never be even close to anything like that again.
I need to be more careful. I should never have brought her out of that car. It was my call, no matter what Aleks says about it. I thought I had the people under control and on my side, and for the most part I did. But I underestimated the trap, I got overconfident. And I fucked up.
Angry flows through me, and soon it’s past midnight and I still can’t sleep. I keep staring over at the door that separates me from Mila, and I hate that fucking door. It shouldn’t be there. She’s supposed to be my Princess, my fucking Princess, all mine, but we’re still pretending like this is just a business arrangement.
I know, deep down inside of myself, that there’s much more than just business going on. Maybe at first I could lie to myself and pretend like I only needed to use her to get what I want, but I’m well past that now.
It
’s obvious what I need. And I’m going to take it.
I walk over to the door and knock softly. I don’t hear anything, so I slowly turn the knob and push the door open.
Her main room is empty. The lights are all off and the room is silent. As I move closer to her bedroom, I notice a small sliver of light shining from underneath the door. Slowly, I push open her bedroom door and look inside.
Mila is sitting up in bed, and she doesn’t look surprised to see me. Her television is on in the corner, though it’s muted, and she’s reading a book. She puts the book facedown in her lap and she stares at me with a neutral expression.
I look back at her for a second and I don’t say a word. I let the silence grow between us, and I know she knows why I’m here. I can see it in the subtle ways she’s breathing but trying to keep herself under control.
“Come with me,” I say finally.
She bites her lip, a little unconscious nervous habit. “Where?”
“Come on,” I say.
I turn and walk back into the main room. Mila appears a minute later, wearing a light t-shirt and long flannel pants. Her hair is down around her shoulders and she looks so fucking beautiful it almost hurts.
“Come on,” I say again, and step out of the room. She follows me, wordlessly padding along the silent rug as we walk down the hall. I pass some guards on late duty and nod at them, but nobody moves to follow me.
We get into the elevator. I hit the bottom button and we slowly descend down the length of the cavern again.
Mila stands close to me, but she doesn’t say a word. I look at her lips, her breasts, her hips, and it’s like we don’t need to talk in this moment. It’s almost like she knows exactly what we’re doing down here, though I know that she doesn’t.
There’s a lot about Bellestan that she doesn’t know. There’s a secret history of the country that has existed since before time was written down. It’s the sort of history that the Soviets tried to destroy, and it still exists in small circles of our people. It exists in our stone and our words, in places like the lake at the center of the cavern and in the minds of the royal family.