She removed her shoes and placed them into the blue backpack along with the night vision goggles and the penlight. She then shoved the backpack into the space where she had hidden her emergency kit, then pushed the empty canvas duffel bag in behind it.
She quickly slipped into her wetsuit and shrugged into the straps attached to the oxygen tank. Carrying the mask in her right hand and the flippers in her left, she made a beeline for the river.
At the river’s edge, she sat in the mud and pulled on her flippers. She rinsed the mask in the frigid water, then placed it over her eyes and nose, that familiar rubber smell somehow comforting to her. She didn’t dare test the regulator this close to shore; the sound might alert another bored royal guardsman. Instead, she silently slipped into the cold water, and, making as little noise as possible, swam out into the river, letting the gentle current pull her away.
When she reached the middle of the river, she flipped onto her back and gazed behind her at Palais d’Or, already shrinking in the distance. She felt as if she were looking at a postcard; something faraway yet beautiful; like she had awoken from a dream — a pleasant dream that she couldn’t quite remember but she knew had been warm and cozy; a dream that was rapidly shrinking out of reach with every second of reality that passed.
She stayed like that, floating on her back, doing a gentle backstroke with her arms, until she reached the first bend in the river and a cluster of trees blocked her view. She sighed, then rinsed off the regulator and tested it. Satisfied that the oxygen was flowing properly, she bit down on the mouthpiece and dove deep beneath the cold, blue water.
Chapter 18
Juliette emerged from the water half an hour later, panting and tired. She swam up to the shoreline, crawled the last couple of feet up the slope, then collapsed face down onto the grass, her legs still dangling in the water. She was exhausted; the water was cold, the current was steady, and she had only slept three hours over the past two days.
Come on girl. Just two more feet.
She pulled herself up to her hands and knees. With a grunt, she shrugged out of the oxygen tank and laid it beside her, then pulled off her scuba mask and tossed it aside. She then collapsed onto her back and lay there, staring up at the bluish white stars, catching her breath.
It always amazed her how quiet the San Morrando countryside was at night; whenever she visited another country, she immediately noticed the chirping of insects or the croaking of frogs; but here, there was only a beautiful, still, peaceful silence. As she lay there now, the only sound she could hear was the water gently lapping against the shore.
She tried to guess the time by looking at the horizon but it was too early; all she could see were stars without the faintest hint of sunlight. Still, she estimated that it must be approaching 5:00 AM.
I should get going.
She sat up and pulled off her flippers, setting them to one side, then removed the scuba hood and shook out her hair, running her fingers through it quickly. She stood, picked up the oxygen tank by one of its straps, and slogged up the slope.
As soon as she crested the hill, she smelled the familiar odors of the circus: popcorn, straw, animal manure, sawdust. She breathed in the scent and smiled, knowing that she was finally home.
But for how long?
She padded through the tall grass, being cautious not to make a sound; wake an animal or an exotic bird and half the circus would be outside to investigate. She veered right, past the animal cages, towards an RV parked next to the utility tent. As she approached, she spied a tiny yellow light in the window of the side door. She relaxed; yellow meant “good to go.”
She jogged the last few steps up to the RV door and knocked softly. The door swung open almost immediately. “Ma chère!” Uncle François whispered, beaming proudly. “Welcome back.”
Juliette climbed the steps and threw herself into her uncle’s arms. “Oh, you don’t know how I’ve missed you,” she breathed, tears forming in her eyes.
“I’ve missed you, too,” François replied warmly. “Well, you’re home now. Do you need anything to eat?”
Juliette broke the embrace and shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”
François reached behind Juliette and closed the RV door. “How did you get out?” he asked, speaking at a more normal volume.
“I literally shimmied down the drainpipe,” she smiled.
François laughed. “I told you those things were sturdy!”
Juliette set the oxygen tank down and looked around for a place to sit. “Here,” François grabbed a folded towel from one of the cabinets. “Use this.” Juliette laid out the towel then slumped onto the couch; François squeezed into one of the two plastic dining table chairs facing her.
“You look exhausted,” François said, concern in his voice.
“I am,” Juliette sighed. “You wouldn’t believe what the last two days have been like.”
François folded his hands and leaned forward, his expression serious. He pointed at the oxygen tank. “Is it in there?”
She nodded, “Yeah.”
François grinned. “Congratulations, ma chère — you did it!”
Juliette smirked, “Yeah, I guess I did. It was-” She sniffed the air. “Is that coffee?”
“Yes it is,” François replied. “I put on a pot about an hour ago. Would you like a cup?”
“Please. That water was freezing.”
François walked to the miniature kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a red mug, creamer, sugar, and a spoon. He talked as he poured, “I asked Pierre to stand by just in case you were able to get the jewels. Pierre’s a good man; I’ve used him before. He’s young, but I trust him. He’ll be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
François carried the full coffee mug to the couch and carefully handed it to Juliette. He continued, “Here’s what we’ll do: we’ll split up and go three ways. Pierre will take the jewels to Amsterdam; I will take the RV south to Spain; and you will take one of the horses and cross the border into France. I will have Madame Tourangeau meet you at that little park across the border — you remember the one?”
Juliette nodded.
“Good. Then I’ll leave the RV at Señor Vega’s farm, then double back on horse and meet you in France. From there, we’ll make our way to South America-”
“South America?!” Juliette blurted out.
François regarded her sympathetically, “I’m afraid so, ma chère. Things are much more complicated now. You don’t seem to realize how famous you are. Why, your face was on every TV screen in the nation just a few days ago. It would be impossible to return to your flower shop.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she mumbled, gazing down into the coffee cup in her lap.
François checked his watch. “It’s already 10 minutes after five. We don’t have much time. I want you in France before dawn.”
Juliette’s arms felt like lead. She handed the coffee mug to her uncle, then picked up the oxygen tank and laid it in her lap. She gripped the tank with her left hand and unscrewed the base with her right. She set the base down on the couch next to her, did the same with her cell phone, then gently poured the emerald necklace into her hand. She held the necklace out in front of her for her uncle to see.
“It’s magnificent,” he breathed, holding out his hand.
Juliette made no move to hand it to him; instead, she slowly rotated it between her hands, marveling at the reflections the gemstones cast around the dingy cabin of the RV. “What will happen to it?” she wondered softly.
“It will have to be dismantled, of course,” François answered. “It’s of no use to us in its current form. The gems will be pried from their setting; there’s not enough gold there to be of much value, but I suppose it will have to be melted down anyway.” François examined his niece, “If you’re worried about its value, don’t be: Pierre has already lined up a buyer who’s agreed to pay 55,000 American dollars for the gems. It’s a good price.” He extended his hand
again.
Juliette gazed at her uncle’s weathered, calloused palm, his rough skin cracked just beneath his ring finger, before her eyes returned to the necklace. “Did you know that Guillermo’s mother wore this to her wedding?” she asked in a small voice.
François studied his niece carefully, then sighed, dropped his hand to his side, and sat down heavily in the chair facing her. “Yes, it seems like yesterday. Oh, she was a beautiful woman, simply beautiful. Dignified and proper.”
“Guillermo’s sister, Sofia, was going to wear this for her coronation,” she continued, her voice trembling. She folded the necklace into her lap, bowed her head, and began weeping silently.
François’ tone was gentle, “You don’t really want to do this, do you, precious?”
Juliette shook her head and sniffed. “Two weeks ago, all I could see was a bunch of emeralds. But now, all I can see is a precious family heirloom. Guillermo’s family heirloom.” She looked up, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, uncle, what’s wrong with me?”
François chuckled. “What’s wrong with you? Why, nothing, ma chère. You’re just in love!”
“I can’t be in love,” Juliette insisted, pounding her fist against her leg. “I can’t be that selfish.”
François laughed. “You can be. And you are.” He leaned forward. “I take it this Guillermo feels the same way you do?”
She gave a small nod, “He proposed to me again last night — this time, for real.”
François smiled warmly, “Then little lamb, listen to your wise old uncle. Go legit. Do it, ma chère. This necklace,” he gestured with the back of his hand, “this is a one-time payoff. Everyone is happy — for a little while. But then, the funds dry up.
“But if you go legit, if you follow your heart, you can open the faucet and keep the funds flowing to the charities forever. The orphans don’t eat for a week; they eat for a year — and another year after that, and another year after that! Don’t you see? If you’re part of the monarchy, you can actually do something — something substantial, something long-lasting, something true. More importantly, my little girl won’t have to slink around rooftops in the middle of the night or shimmy down drainpipes or hide in shame like some common criminal. No more! You can do what’s right and hold your head up high and be with the one you love.”
Juliette gazed in wonder at her uncle. He roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “All right? Good? Then it’s decided! If you take the rowboat, you can be back at the castle before dawn. Agreed?”
“Oh, yes. Yes. Yes!” Juliette threw her arms around her uncle’s neck and wept openly. “Thank you, uncle. Thank you. I’m so glad I have you in my life.”
François sniffed. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else as my little girl. Now, hurry — get out of that wetsuit. We need to get you cleaned up and down to the pier. The clock is ticking!”
* * *
Guillermo pointed at a printout laying on the conference table in the King’s Study. “I’d like to incorporate as many themes as possible from my father’s coronation. Baron Amsel has stirred up a hornet’s nest with his accusations so I want my coronation to be as close to my father’s as possible — really highlight the traditions.”
“Very good, sir,” Armand responded.
“Now, as for the music-”
Guillermo was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“One moment, sir,” Armand opened the door, then leaned down as a maid whispered in his ear. Armand whispered his response; she nodded and he closed the door. “I’m sorry, sir. Please continue.”
“These are the music selections I would like at the coronation,” Guillermo said. “If these aren’t suitable, tell the music director that he can substitute another piece, but I want nothing written after 1850. I want the most staid, traditional coronation possible.”
“Very good, sir.” There was a light tapping on the door. “One moment, sir.”
Armand opened the door; this time, a different maid whispered in Armand’s ear. He nodded and closed the door.
“Is there a problem, Armand?” Guillermo asked.
“Possibly, sir,” Armand replied. “It seems that no one can locate Miss Juliette this morning. She’s not in her room, she didn’t come down for breakfast. She doesn’t appear to be on the castle grounds anywhere.”
“She’s missing?” Guillermo asked, then his expression changed to panic as a thought occurred to him. “You don’t think-? Did she-?”
Guillermo stomped towards the door; Armand grabbed his arm forcefully. “Sir, I believe I know where you are going but, please, consider your body language. This may be a simple misunderstanding.”
Guillermo glared at his valet for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxed. “You’re right, of course, Armand.” Guillermo smiled thinly. “Yes, of course. How would it look if every time I can’t find Juliette, I run to the gem room and inspect the jewelry?”
“Exactly, sir,” Armand said.
Guillermo stood up and straightened his shirt. “Let’s try this again.”
“Very good, sir.” Armand opened the door and Guillermo led him to the gem room. The royal guardsman standing there snapped to attention as the two men approached.
“At ease, soldier,” Guillermo ordered. “My valet and I need to check something for the coronation. We’ll only be a minute.”
“Yes, sir!” the eager private barked, then stood aside.
The prince and the valet entered the gem room; Armand closed the door. Guillermo headed directly for the far corner of the room. When he saw the empty velvet mat where the emerald necklace should be, he staggered as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
“It’s gone,” he croaked.
Armand’s brow furrowed; he quickly joined the prince at the back of the room.
“It’s gone,” Guillermo repeated in shock. “It’s gone and she’s gone with it.”
“It does appear so, sir,” Armand frowned.
“I really thought that she was the one,” Guillermo muttered.
“Steady, sir. We’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll check-”
Armand was interrupted by a commotion outside the door. The young guardsman spoke, “I’m sorry, miss, but I have orders not to let anyone in.”
Guillermo stormed across the room and flung the door open.
Juliette was standing there arguing with the royal guardsman flanked by her two maids, Alicia and Emilia.
“Juliette!”
“Oh! Guillermo! There you are!” Juliette said. “I wonder,” she held up the emerald necklace, “do you think I can wear this to the coronation?”
Guillermo grabbed her and pulled her close. He squeezed her tightly and whispered in her ear, “I thought you were gone.”
She smiled and whispered back, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Guillermo pulled back slightly. “Wait. Why is your hair wet?”
Juliette replied, “I’ll explain later. Just kiss me already, you fool!”
Guillermo smiled and kissed her passionately.
“Aww,” Alicia said. The two maids began clapping politely. The guardsman looked uncomfortable; Armand smiled with relief. Emilia was overcome with emotion, wiping away tears with the back of her hand while simultaneously wearing a happy smile.
“All right, ladies,” Armand commanded, “We have a coronation and a royal wedding in only three days! Let’s get back to work!”
“Yes, sir!”
Epilogue
Lady Olivia Amsel sat in a leather chair in her drawing room wearing a sour expression on her face, as if she had just smelled something offensive. Seated next to her, Lady Roslynne Gothieu scooped up a heaping spoonful of sugar from an ornate porcelain bowl and stirred it into her black tea.
A nervous maid appeared at the door and announced, “Countess Marie Fuensaldaña has arrived.” The maid curtsied and quickly departed. Seconds later, Marie appeared in the doorway, smiling serenely.
“Marie! Where have you been?�
� Olivia snapped.
“I’m sorry, Olivia, but things got very busy yesterday, what with your father’s legislation and all. I do have some good news, however. We bought a house!”
“A house? Which house?” Olivia demanded.
“This house.” Marie’s smile was sublime.
“Th-Th-Th-This house?!” Olivia gasped.
Marie continued, “Don’t worry, Olivia; my father doesn’t plan to evict you immediately or anything like that. You should have 30 days to get out.”
“Thirty days!” Olivia shrieked. “This is my home!”
“Was your home, Olivia,” Marie said. “Now that your father’s financial troubles are well-known within Parliament, I suspect that other things will go on the market soon as well. I hear Senator Bécquer has taken a liking to your summer home in Cannes.”
“This is outrageous!”
Marie carried on, unfazed, “You can keep your servants, of course, if you can afford them. Well, all of them except for Emilia’s father, that is — he will be joining our household immediately. But you can keep the rest.”
“How dare you!” Olivia was livid. “This is a personal attack! I cannot believe you would side with that flower girl — that, that, Juliette! None of this would have happened if it weren’t for her.”
“On the contrary, Olivia,” Marie countered. “The way I heard it, Juliette never would have discovered your secret if you hadn’t gone over to the castle to gloat. I mean, I saw you nearly every day and I thought your jewels were real; I couldn’t tell they were fakes. Then again, you never leaned over me and hung them right in my face.”
“Marie, why you-” Olivia balled up her fists. Shaking with rage, she screamed, “Get out. Get out!”
“Hey, Marie,” Roslynne interjected. “What gives?”
Marie smiled. “You know what they say: my family have been great friends of the monarchy dating back for generations.”
Roslynne grimaced and turned her eyes away.
Just then, the sound of two brief horn honks filled the room. Marie turned, “Ah, that’s my ride. Sofia and I are going to the beach before she heads back to college. Goodbye Olivia, Roslynne. I’ll see you around.”
Princess Thief: Stealing Your Heart Page 17