Crowned: Gowns & Crowns, Book 4

by Jennifer Chance

  “It’s certainly that.” Francesca leaned against him, surprised that with him near she felt less anxious, not more. Ordinarily she could never let anyone get too close, but Ari was different. He had lost his past and was focused on recovering it. He had no reason to care about hers.

  His next words confirmed that. “You’ll want to go to your friends this morning, before the press conference—and before my mother gets her hooks into you. She’ll want every detail of the last few days you can spare, and it’s probably better that she knows none of them.” He squeezed her shoulders. “And you’ll be glad to know that we found Conti Goba.”

  “Oh?” she glanced up to search his face. “Please tell me he’s not dead.”

  “No. Nothing so alarming. But your comment about how those identities get fashioned, the ones that can be sold so easily and for such little money, it got me thinking. It had to have been stolen. Conti could have been injured, in jail.”

  She nodded. “It’s a risk, but in a city where flashing credentials is done so frequently…”

  “You have to have something to flash. But he’s in the hospital, as it happens.” He waved off her flare of alarm. “His wife is having a baby and they didn’t trust the local hospital in Makila. In the rush to get her to the hospital, Conti dropped his pack and everything went flying. When he realized he had his passport, his wife’s passport, birth certificates—they live in the country and didn’t know what would be required—he thought he had it all. It was only later that he realized what he was missing.” He shrugged. “But since he had the rest, he wasn’t worried. He simply assumed it was lost. Dimitri texted me early this morning that it had been returned to him, no one the wiser.”

  “Good,” Fran nodded. “With any luck, you’ll never need false papers again.”

  “True.” He winked at her. “Though if I do, I’ll know where to go to find them.”

  He meant the seedy bar in the marina district, she knew he did, but his words still set her on edge. She lifted her hand, masking a feigned yawn. “I should go.”

  “I have fresh clothes for you—and the shower is that way,” he said, pointing through a door she hadn’t seen last night. “Not as fancy as at the hotel, with accommodations down the hall.”

  She grinned, her good mood returning. “Not everywhere can be so nice.” She tilted her head and hoped her words didn’t betray her relief at having time to herself. “You’re leaving?”

  “I’ve been summoned to a breakfast briefing, and the press conference is at ten. I’ll be tied up with appearances for the rest of my natural life I suspect.” Still, he didn’t seem unhappy about it. The perspective of a year in captivity could change a lot of things, Fran suspected.

  “When you’re ready, you can take the stairs to the first or second level, and ask anyone to direct you back to the guest apartments. Or the pool.” He shook his head. “Dimitri seemed to think that’s where your friends would be. It’s apparently become their second home.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Once again, leaning toward him to kiss him seemed the most natural thing in the world to her, for all that she knew their magical idyll was already over.

  Perhaps Ari knew it too. With the same affability that he’d displayed regarding his upcoming appearances, he left her with a brief kiss and a warm smile, as if there was nothing unusual about the crown prince of Garronia leaving a strange American woman alone in his room.

  Then again, who was she to know how things usually rolled in Garronia? For all she knew, Ari could have had a different woman in his room every week. Somehow, though…she didn’t think so.

  It was another half hour before she made her way down to the first floor, where a staff member insisted on guiding her to the pool. The young man practiced his English the whole way, beaming with every smile Fran gave him, so that by the time she reached the pool area she too was feeling more upbeat.

  And ready for the combined screams of Lauren, Nicki and Emmaline.

  “Oh my God! She lives!” Nicki saw her first from her vantage point in the pool, and she hauled herself up out of the water as Emmaline and Lauren pivoted in their chairs. Then they too were scrambling up, everyone talking at once.

  “When did you get back, last night?” Emmaline asked. “What’s he like—Ari, that is. Is he better? Does he remember everything?”

  “Dimitri said he was better, nearly back to full speed, but he lies all the time,” declared Lauren with a knowing grimace. “He thinks I don’t know it, but I keep telling him I’ve been around far less scrupulous men than he realizes.” She laughed. “Of course, that doesn’t make him feel any better.”

  “Stefan thinks he’s remembering more too,” Nicki said, “But he’s also cautious. They’ll imply he’s completely up to speed, and if anyone challenges Ari, I think they’ll lower the boom. Fortunately, he’s not been involved in the setting of any real policies at this point. His own Accession Ball was still in process when he had the accident, so he hadn’t started any truly official duties.”

  “Kristos lives in hope that he can return to the military, but I think he’s willing to stay crown prince, so long as Ari is back.” Emmaline said. “But how are you doing? Dimitri said you helped more than they could have ever imagined?”

  “I—” Fran blinked as all three of the women focused on her, and she knew it was time for her close-up. She understood her part, and she understood her audience, this endlessly sympathetic trio of women who’d been there since she’d first begun believing that she could be the person she’d fashioned for herself, the woman who could one day graduate with a good job and good friends and the incredible experience of helping people all around the world.

  They were here, they genuinely loved her, and all she had to do was smile.

  Instead, she burst into tears.

  “You’re going to do splendidly, dear, you always do.”

  Ari looked down at his mother, marveling anew how small she seemed to him. Had he thought that before, in the weeks and months leading up to the fateful airplane flight that had taken him so far away from these people? He honestly didn’t know. He seemed to be remembering much more, but the process wasn’t a conscious one. It wasn’t as if he could suddenly recall every detail of his past life, but more that he realized that he wasn’t not recalling it. After a lifetime of living less than deliberately, he didn’t have a firm sense of what he’d forgotten versus what he’d never truly remembered in the first place.

  “The message is simple enough,” he agreed, rewarded by his mother’s quick smile. She wanted more than anything for him to be well, to be healthy. She didn’t want to let the press corps loose on him, though by conducting this meeting now, before the regional feeds could get a person in place, they were heading off most of the media circus before it began. All Ari had to do was show up and look the part. Fake it ‘til you make it, Francesca had said. Truer words were never spoken.

  His parents and Dimitri entered the press room first, and the questions started almost the moment they hit the door. It swung closed and Ari stared at it. The plan was simple. An announcement, a series of questions, then Ari would make an appearance like Oz from behind the curtain. They’d already agreed that he’d continue answering questions until the reporters had exhausted all the ones of relevance, and they’d gone over a list fifty items long of increasingly more ridiculous queries. Ari was prepared for anything—but most of all, he realized, he didn’t mind. The questions lobbed by the reporters looking for an angle to titillate their viewers weren’t intended to harm him personally, or to harm his family personally. There was no danger here.

  The tiniest frisson of apprehension skated up his spine. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t any danger, anywhere, of course. But not here. Not in this scripted, highly public space, where what mattered most was his performance—not what truths he could tell. Later, however, there would be time to ensure that every threat was run down…even, especially, those he could not truly remember.

  “Ar
e you ready, sir?” Stefan came up beside him at the door, ready to enter the small auditorium used for exactly this purpose—intimate gatherings of the press or special video presentations for honored guests. Ari couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in here, but he’d attended dozens of such briefings before as the silent son, there to help the family put on a united front.

  “Does he always call me sir?” Ari asked Kristos, and his brother grimaced.

  “Whenever he thinks other people are listening.” His brother was dressed in his military honor uniform, the braids and decoration making Ari feel particularly unimpressive. But his path hadn’t been through the military beyond his two years of compulsory service—during which time he mainly improved his flying abilities. His path had been through these doors in front of him, addressing the media on behalf of the royal family.

  It felt right, he realized, memory or not. It felt like what he should most be doing.

  “They’re ready,” Stefan said, his hand at his ear where a mic sat permanently affixed to his brain, from what Ari could tell. Kristos led the way, and Ari followed, with Stefan at his back.

  He entered the room and to his surprise, the press corps was standing. He didn’t think they normally did that, but he smiled as a hundred different cameras flashed and video cameras rolled in the back. His father stood beside the podium, and Kristos stopped before it, allowing Ari to pass in front of him. Three men of the royal family stood arrayed for more photos, while Stefan stood back by the door. Beyond his father, his mother sat, and Dimitri stood at the other door.

  He was surrounded by the people who loved him most, Ari realized., and pride and gratitude swelled in his chest, threatening to choke him.

  He looked out into the crowd. “Before I answer any questions, I wanted to take a moment.” He glanced at his father who had nothing but approval and encouragement written across his face. Ari could probably start quacking like a duck and the king wouldn’t blink. “And my apologies for going off-script with the first words out of my mouth.”

  He turned back as the press corps rumbled a laugh. “I’m standing here today more grateful to be back in my own country than I can express. Not because I was treated badly, and not because I fell ill. I recovered as fast as could reasonably be expected with my injuries, and was returned as soon as my benefactors realized who I was—as I’m sure my parents have told you.” Several nods and he pushed on. “But to be so far away from my country, to not be able to return, makes a man appreciate what he has. Appreciate the hardworking men and women who make up our communities, appreciate the compassion we show our neighbors, our dedication to good schools, strong military, and a thriving business environment. I’m lucky to be alive, many would say. And I’d be one of them.” More laughter. “But I’m yet luckier to be able to represent Garronia once more. To walk these streets and see these people, and know that I’ve come home.”

  He gestured to the crowd. “Any questions?”

  The press corps surged forward, pelting him with a barrage. How long had he been unaware of his surroundings? Where had he been flying that night—and why fly at all into a storm? What had gone wrong with his plane? Where had he crashed, specifically? What injuries had he sustained? What was his timeline for returning to duty? What were the doctors’ reports on him?

  He handled all of them with an ease he hadn’t expected, grateful that his short term memory at least remained rigorously intact. It surprised him how simple it was to recall the information he needed, to say it in exactly the right way. He’d been briefed well, but it was more than that. It was a realization growing within him, almost too big to fully grasp.

  A new question refocused him. “There were some reports that you were seen in the city streets with an unknown woman last night. Care to comment on that?”

  Beside him, King Jasen tensed and Ari could almost feel the concern from his mother as the queen beamed at him. Francesca had been seen, and as much as he wanted to claim her, this was not the time. The briefing was being held in Garronois but no matter what the language, he knew any attention he paid Francesca now would only cause her harm.

  He had to do things carefully, and he had to do them well. It wasn’t solely his future at stake here.

  “I don’t think it would come as any surprise that I would find a beautiful woman to squire me around,” he said with a rakish grin. “Though before you ask, we are not married.” The laughter sounded in the room again, the moment successfully handled. “And the street festivals of our capital city were one of the things I missed the most. I couldn’t resist walking the streets and hearing the music, for all that it, once again, wasn’t on the script. If any of you were out last night, I think you’ll agree that our city shone with celebration. It was truly the moment that I felt like I was home.”

  His mother had stood during his little speech and the corps turned to her expectantly. “With Ari’s return, I am in the very happy position of being able to announce the return to our original plans all the way from last summer, as well,” she said, beaming with such delight that everyone straightened. “The question of Accession will be handled in due time, but with all that we have to celebrate, we will begin making plans for a new national holiday in Garronia, in tandem with our business and tourism department to ensure it brings the greatest value to our fair country.” She gazed at Ari with unaffected tears in her eyes, though her smile never faltered. “We’ll call it National Homecoming Day.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fran staggered under the weight of yet another dress that Lauren pulled off the rack, rocking back a step.

  “Don’t drop anything!” Lauren ordered. “I swear to God, if I’d known being a queen meant you had immediate access to clothes from the country’s top designers, I would’ve rethought my career choices.”

  “You think Dimitri wouldn’t move heaven and earth to get you clothing if that’s what you really wanted?” Nicki teased. “He’d install your own line of seamstresses by nightfall.”

  An earlier version of Lauren would have shot back a witty comeback, but as Fran watched, this Lauren simply smiled, her eyes fixed on a faraway point as her fingers flicked past hanger after hanger of gowns. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, and Fran’s heart shimmied again, threatening a repeat of the waterworks from earlier this morning.

  That had been easy enough to explain away. She was tired, overwrought, and had just helped navigate a prince back to solid ground when no one truly knew how Ari would react to her. She’d managed to get through that unscathed, and while local media mentioned a mysterious woman at the festival last night, they also reported that Ari had brushed off the insinuation that she’d been anything other than casual arm candy. Which was exactly what he should have insinuated…

  And yet.

  “Are you really sure the queen wants us all dolled up again?” Nicki asked plaintively. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I will rock these stilettos, but it seems like we were kind of a nuisance the last time around.”

  “You’re definitely not a nuisance, and this ball isn’t like that one,” Emmaline said. Fran wheeled around with the last of Lauren’s picks, and regarded the youngest of their group while she staggered her way to the bed. They’d all gathered in Emmaline’s room because it was the biggest suite—large enough to hold the trunk sale’s worth of ball gowns the queen had sent up for them. But Emmaline didn’t need a new fancy dress. She’d been delivered a dozen of them during the first week of her engagement to Kristos, and she didn’t even have the ring yet.

  The ring. Fran’s brows went up. Would Kristos propose officially at this upcoming ball—with a royal diamond? She dropped the gowns on the bed, a flurry of satin and tulle, and focused on Emmaline, keeping her voice casual. “How is it different?” she asked, picking up a cool green confection.

  “You can’t go with that one, you did green last time.” Lauren took the offending garment out of Fran’s hands and trooped back to the rack as Emmaline selected another gown
and held it out to Nicki.

  “This one is more a celebration, not for any specific reasons. There will be family and friends invited, a few local notables, but the point isn’t the Accession or the age-old question of who the prince will marry,” Emmaline said. “It’s a Homecoming Ball, the way the queen describes it. She’s test running the idea in advance of a larger function tied to the official state holiday she wants to be declared.”

  “Right,” Nicki said, holding a dress up to her athletic form. “I’d totally look like a coconut cupcake in this.” She handed the dress back to Emmaline, then continued. “So why are we having to dress up like Toddlers in Tiaras if it’s not an official state visit or a matchmaking gig?”

  Lauren’s laugh was both feminine and derisive, in the way no one but Lauren could pull off. “Maybe because the queen isn’t simply test driving the holiday, she’s test driving potential brides for Ari?” she asked. “If we’re supposed to get this fancy you know that she’s inviting other women. It would be totally weird otherwise. And of those other women, how much you want to bet we’ll see a return showing of the crew from Kristos’s pre-engagement bash?”

  “But I’m sure Edeena Saleri is coming to this new event, and I’ve not met her before,” Fran said. “I would have remembered her, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Oh, the family was represented, but not Edeena,” Emmaline said. “Daughters number two and three were there, and the father.”