Letters from a Prince: The Royals of Heledia (Book 1)

by Hart, Victoria

  It only got better when we finally walked into the dining room. It was practically a Disney movie. All I needed was to be in some fluffy golden ball gown and have him waltzing around in a blue suit and it might have been Beauty and the Beast. Except, you know, he was much better looking.

  “I like to think of some of that time at your house as our first date,” he said, sheepishly. “But this is an okay second date, right?”

  “You understand that my standard for dates is like someone buying me Buncha Crunch at the movie theater, right?” I said, and he laughed.

  He stepped forward to pull out my chair for me and I dropped down into it as gracefully as I could. I wondered how many people he kicked out of here for this and how long it took to set up, because the place was spotless. And the way candles and flowers were arranged around the room, I had a feeling that it couldn’t have been done fast. I didn’t care though. As much as I appreciated the ambience, what mattered most was that I was finally getting everything I’d hoped for, for months, years probably, if I was being totally honest with myself. Childhood Isabel had no idea what things were waiting for her.

  “I also got that apricot wine you like,” he said, uncorking the bottle one of the staff handed to him and pouring it in a glorious ribbon of powdered pink. It fizzled at the top of the flute.

  “I can only imagine what Christmas dinner is going to be like,” I said.

  He smiled. “We’re just like any other family. Games of Scrabble and secret Santa are a tradition here.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  And then we fell into conversation. He asked about school and his face lit up when I told him about my NYU acceptance letter. I asked him about everything I could—which wasn’t much since I could barely understand how half of his job worked and the other half was all super secret or something. I really needed to start looking up current events so I sounded a lot less uninformed about this stuff. I probably should have paid attention in Mr. Salamone’s U.S. government class. Oh well.

  Dessert was, as always, my favorite part. The staff brought out several fancy looking pieces of pastry that I didn’t hesitate to dig into with all my energy. If they were meant to stay pretty forever, they wouldn’t be edible right?

  Nik just laughed and laughed as we talked all evening, and he dropped me off at my door, much later, when half the palace was asleep. He kissed me softly and whispered a goodnight and a promise to see me in the morning. I couldn’t even feel bad about giving up this year’s holidays with my family to flirt my way into a relationship with Nik. We’d waited long enough.

  * * *

  The holidays at the palace in Heledia were incredibly fun. I had thought playing vicious games of Star Wars themed Monopoly over spiked eggnog was fun, but this was another level. Someone had tacked up mistletoe everywhere so Nik found many opportunities to corner me in some room or hallway and make good on tradition.

  Sonia took me to an annual Christmas pageant they had in town and then forced me to try some holiday liquor that, she claimed, gave absinthe a run for its money. It was a night full of missing spots in my memory and as disappointed as my mom might have been, half a world away, I couldn’t even feel bad. It was just plain fun.

  They also didn’t seem to believe in just one Christmas dinner because there were several nights of huge meals leading up to the actual day. I was pretty sure I was going to be the first one in and the last one out of the gym for the next month, to work off the holiday weight, but I couldn’t even care (even if Jennifer was going to make a comment about me getting ready for prom season).

  Christmas Eve night was a night of games, warm, mulled wine, and cozy fires. The temperature never really went below balmy in Heledia. I couldn’t image going through every Christmas without at least the possibility and hope of snow outside your door and being able to trot down to the beach on New Year’s Day. But, in the salon, with a roaring fire, and warm wine in my hand, I could pretend there was a blizzard raging outside and hoof prints from reindeer waiting to be found in the morning.

  “Gee, I wonder who got me the earrings, again,” Sonia said, opening her secret Santa gift.

  “You complain, but I know you love them,” Nik said, throwing back the remainder of his wine and carefully placing an arm over my shoulder next to him.

  It was never really established how much of our relationship his family was aware of. Sure, his sister knew, since she practically threw us together but his mother had never made a comment about it, or looked at me funny. She just smiled as warmly as she always had. His mother, however, had not made much effort to speak with me. I hoped it was just her grief.

  “I’ll put them next to last year’s earrings,” she said, and rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t sass your king,” Nik teased.

  For me, he had a heart-shaped locket, studded with tiny diamonds. It was beautiful.

  Staff members brought out trays of cookies and mincemeat pies and I had never felt happier, in Nik’s arms, in warmth, as on that Christmas Eve night.

  Christmas morning was one of a huge brunch, more warm wine, and a few more gifts. My parents had arranged to have my gifts delivered and ready to be opened on Christmas morning, and they stayed up at odd hours back in their time zone so I could call them that morning to wish them a Merry Christmas. Even Jess and Jennifer accepted texts from me and Pete had managed to send one my way before he apparently fell asleep for a nap after going hard on his grandmother’s mimosa recipe that morning.

  “So,” Nik said. “How does this rank in Isabelen Christmasses?”

  He came up behind me and wrapped strong arms around my middle. He was dressed down (because it was in fact possible for him to do that) in house clothes and slippers. His hair wasn’t neatly combed and it fell in a wavy mess across his head. I leaned back into his hold and smiled, and even though I knew he couldn’t see it, I was sure he felt it.

  “Honestly? I think the year we went to Disney World might be better.”

  “Har. Har.”

  He kissed my cheek and then quickly started blowing raspberries into it until I giggled and pushed him away. We rejoined everyone for more games later in the afternoon, and Nik enjoyed a day where he wasn’t required to say or do anything or meet with anyone because the king was officially on holiday until January. We slid around the marble floor in socks and had races. We slid down the staircase on old mattresses to make up for the lack of snow for real sledding.

  That night, we got a little more respectable and dressed for church because, if nothing else, Nik and his family were required to make an appearance for that. I sat through hymns and pretended to mouth them in the language I didn’t know. Eventually I recognized the familiar tune of “Silent Night” and mumbled the lyrics in English under my breath while Nik snickered next to me before Sonia nudged him hard with her elbow.

  When I laid my head down to sleep that night I’d never been happier. I felt warm everywhere and couldn’t stop having incredibly cliché dreams about sugar plums and people laughing and everything just feeling incredibly perfect for the first time in a long time.

  It was a pretty good night.

  * * *

  The rest of the year passed with the same sense of ease. I came home just in time to spend New Year’s with Jess and Jennifer, and they drilled me for all the information they could. Even my mother was pretty invested in the outcome of events, even though she tried to hide it as best as she could.

  “So what’s the verdict?” Jess asked as she dipped her tortilla chip into the salsa. She always preferred her food tongue-burning levels of spicy, so she was the only one partaking of that particular snack as we watched the New Year’s Eve show from New York City.

  “The verdict is…everything is good,” I said.

  “Which means?” Jennifer pressed.

  “Which means if I was allowed to change my Facebook relationship status about it I could, but there’s all sorts of PR crap that goes with this stuff—“

  “So wait, you
two are official now, like officially official?”

  I nodded with a sheepish green and burning cheeks.

  “Pete owes me $10,” Jess said, through a full mouth. “He bet that it would take until at least Valentine’s Day for you guys to work your nonsense out.”

  “Good to know what you guys get up to while I’m gone.”

  Jess winked and went back in for more chips and dip. Jennifer smiled over her drink and I tried to change the subject after that. Nik had already texted me earlier in the day, when the clock struck midnight in Heledia, and sent a kissing face emoji. Though it would have been nice to finally have someone to kiss at midnight, Nik had to get back to work, and my family needed at least a little bit of time with me over the holidays before I went back to school.

  The new year, after that, began with much less stress than the fall semester. It had a lot to do with school, I knew. Even though NYU, like most schools, required you to send in transcripts in the spring to prove you didn’t just completely tank your grades now that you were in a college acceptance pool, the final months of school were passing with much less grating agitation than before.

  I didn’t have to worry about any more standardized tests or hunting down professors for letters of recommendation or quietly lurking on college acceptances forums and messages boards looking at what trolls had to say about getting into colleges. It was a nice change of pace.

  When Valentine’s Day did roll around I got a package from Nik filled with Heledian chocolate, a stuffed teddy bear, and a card. It was at this point that I could no longer hide from my parents what was going on with us. They’d have to find out anyway. My mom was not surprised, though my dad did have a bit of a shocked reaction. He exchanged one of those meaningful looks with my mother, who shook her head slightly. I understood that they would be talking about it later.

  “You think you can swing bringing the king to prom?” Jennifer asked, one day at lunch.

  “Oh my God, that would be insane,” Pete said.

  “I doubt it. He’s got more important stuff to do than deal with me and my prom fantasies,” I said.

  “You talk about him like he’s some world wise dude who’s like ten years older than you,” she said. “He’s a kid too, despite how fancy and official he looks signing papers with the president on the TV screen.”

  “Well, he does have an actual job,” I said, “Crazy and insane as it is, I don’t think the head of state in any country can take time out to go visit his girlfriend for her prom.”

  In all honesty, I didn’t really care about the prom at this point. When I’d been single it had been an object of fantasy to think about some mystery man sweeping me off my feet with a dance, or some secret admirer surprising me with a well thought out and sweet request to go to prom with him. Now that I had everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend, the appeal of the dance was waning somewhat.

  So I ended up staying home that night and talking on Skype with Nik for a few hours (we’d given up the letters, finally. They were too slow for lovebirds like us.) before I fell asleep and woke up to texts from my drunk friends about how lame I was for ditching them and how they were going to get McDonald’s. I couldn’t help but smile.

  As the school year drew to a close, I made plans for the summer and, more importantly, senior week. It was a time-honored tradition to go up north to the beaches in New Jersey and rent out a crappy beach house and do nothing but sit on the beach, drink beer, and eat junk food for a few days to celebrate finally entering adulthood and being free of the yoke of high school.

  “I say we go for a place closer to the boardwalk,” Jennifer said while we sat together at Starbucks. “I know this may come as a shock because, hello, it’s me, but I’m actually not a huge beach person.”

  “Here, here,” Pete said. “Sand is the most irritating thing in the history of the world and I’d prefer to avoid it at all costs.”

  “Also, we’d be that much closer to pizza and fries every night,” Jess said.

  I wasn’t really paying too much attention, because I was reading over an email Nik had sent me the night before about spending a portion of my summer break with him in Heledia before I went off to college. I was really trying not to be one of those girls whose life revolved around her boyfriend, but it was kind of hard sometimes, all things considered.

  “What? Yeah. Sounds great, you know I’m terrified of jellyfish, anyway,” I said.

  “This is true, you have had several nightmares,” Jess said.

  “It was two, thank you.”

  We laughed and went back to looking at pictures of the beach house. That senior week was the start of some of the most difficult times I would ever have with Nik. His drunk escapades in Paris were very little in comparison.

  Chapter 10

  It started when I got truly, unashamedly drunk for the first time in my life.

  We were a week out of high school. In hindsight, graduating really wasn’t the greatest accomplishment in the 100 year span of a life, but at the time it felt like the biggest moment of freedom I’d ever known. I wouldn’t have to answer to the changing classes with bells anymore or eat whatever they were serving in the cafeteria every time I forgot my lunch. (Or so I thought.) There’d be no more detention or being told to be quiet in study hall, or having to fill out a pass every time I just wanted to go to the bathroom.

  Of course, with that came consequences that were a little bit more severe. That was the trade-off for freedom, I guess, scarier things to deal with when the freedom was over.

  The first night we were at the beach house we drank our way through the six pack Pete’s cousin bought us earlier in the week. When that was done and we decided it wasn’t enough, so we popped open a cheap bottle of wine that Jennifer had snuck out of her parents’ wine cabinet. By the time I was on my second glass, I was beginning to feel numb all over, like the surface of my skin was vibrating.

  I could see why standing was difficult for drunk people as I swayed without meaning to. Everything also became instantly funnier and I had to be louder and smiling all the time. My face felt tight when I smiled like I was pulling too hard at my cheeks but there were too many reasons to smile for me to not smile. I think that made sense in my head, anyway.

  “No—I think the joke starts ‘three rabbis walk into a bar’—“

  “I’m bored already, someone tell some spooky shit. Like a ghost story.”

  “Please.”

  “Well Pete forgot to bring the board games.”

  “My suitcase can only hold so much and I had to smuggle you beer.”

  I laughed at my friends from my perch at the kitchen island, watching them argue on the couch. When I started the year, I really had no idea it would get me here. Things with Nik were great, but it was wonderful being surrounded by people who made me laugh, even if the alcohol was a little bit to blame.

  This train of thought, however, did circle back to Nik. Thinking about it sober, it seems all sappy and gross and I hated that I became one of those girls who was obsessed with her boyfriend or made those ridiculous posts of selfies of us kissing (well, I didn’t actually get to do that because we’d have to actually be physically in the same location for that to work). But when you’re inebriated and thinking about how much you miss your boyfriend, your mind tends to suggest you do somewhat stupid things.

  Like drunk dial him, for example.

  Later, we would joke about it and about how he and I traded off days where we made poor communication decisions while drunk. But, at the time, I ended up being super, incredibly embarrassed when I hit send on his number and heard it start to ring.

  “Hello?”

  His voice was groggy and low with sleep.

  “Hey!”

  “Isabel? What’s up? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I was just thinking about things…. I miss you.”

  In hindsight I really, really do hate myself for how ridiculous and needy I sounded. But you only have senior week once and what’s the poin
t of having a boyfriend if he can’t forgive you for the little things?

  “I miss you, too.”

  He sounded like he meant it, even through his thick voice, filled with sleep.

  “Senior week is fun and all but…I don’t know. It’s weird. It feels like something’s missing, you know?”

  “Isabel, as adorable as I think you are drunk—and I’d like to explore that more when you’re here—I think you should throw back a few waters and call me in the morning, yeah?”

  “Whose morning? Yours or mine?”

  He genuinely laughed at that and then told me he loved me again and would talk to me soon. We hung up the phone with quiet goodbyes while my friends continued to rage in the background about what card game to play with the deck they’d found in the magazine pile in the house. Turns out one of the aces was missing and that wasn’t sitting well with Jess for any game anyone suggested.

  They were completely oblivious to my heart to heart over the phone and probably wouldn’t notice if I walked out to take a nap on the balcony. But I couldn’t stop smiling, all the same.

  Eventually I jumped in and just started building the world’s most unsteady house of cards before they quieted down and joined in.

  That was the last time things felt easy. If I had known that was going to be the case I would have relished this quiet moment a little longer, because the second I stepped off that plane in Heledia, it was going to turn into the exact nightmare I had been desperate to avoid all this time.

  But in that moment, for a brief time at God knows what hour of the night, everything was okay. My friends were around me, my boyfriend had mumbled that he loved me in a sleepy voice, and I had the promise of seeing him soon for the rest of the summer. And after that, I had a future to look forward to in New York City, studying at NYU and understanding true freedom for the first time.

  For those last few hours, everything was perfect.

  * * *

  So I may have spent a couple of days cringing every time I got a text from Nik and thought about my first awkward drunk dial to my boyfriend. But it was bound to happen at some point. Better with my friends at a senior week beach house instead of in the basement of some house party with a thumping bass. He seemed to forget about it, and the odd time it was brought up, he told me how adorable it was and I cringed even more.