“Shit!” I almost lose my balance. Dropping the machete, I hug the tree. “No fire ants. No fire ants. Please don’t attack me.”
I fumble my way down, and when I finally find the ground with my feet, I wipe at my face, trying to remove the webs. When I finish, I look at my palms, which are totally black with dirt. “Oh great. Now I’m all dirty.”
I won’t look at all like a sexy warrior princess when I go back and get Will. Whatever, idiot, it doesn’t matter what you look like. Just save his life already!
It takes me about ten minutes and a whole lot of tugging, yanking, and grunting to finish the stretcher, but when it’s ready, I stare at it for a second and smile at my ingenuity. I zipped up my sleeping bag, cut a hole through the bottom corners with my Swiss Army knife, then slid the poles through on each side. Then I cut another bamboo shoot and made the connector thingies Will showed me and used the vines to secure them. Pretty decent overhand knots, if I do say so myself.
Forget about that, Arabella. Pick it up and run! Run to your man!
* * *
Fast Forward to Now…
I smile down at Will for a second, then snap into action. “Change of plans. I found a road nearby that I’m hoping will take us to Mbambole, but if not, it’ll take us somewhere with humans, right?”
He nods. “Theoretically, but how are you—”
“—I’ve got that covered. I made a stretcher for you, and I figured out how to get you out of there.”
I grab hold of a vine growing out of the ground at the top of the ravine, wrap it around a thick tree trunk nearby, and guide it down near Will. “I’m coming down.”
Steadying my shaking hands, I start my descent, keeping my breath even and whispering encouraging thoughts to myself. “You can do this. You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re Belle.”
When I reach the bottom, I scramble over the rocks to get to Will. “Please don’t mind my mudface. I had a run-in with a very dirty tree.”
He grins at me, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anyone look so beautiful.”
I take his cheeks in my hands, unable to stop myself from touching him. Will sits up a bit, and leans in for a kiss, but I say, “That’ll have to wait. I have serious puke breath.”
“Righto, I forgot.”
“So, we’re going to use the Bear Grylls backpack as a makeshift harness,” I say, taking the bag and wrapping the end of the vine around the straps. I quickly tie it on while Will watches. “This vine is wrapped around a very strong-looking ironwood tree that we can use as leverage. As long as the straps don’t break, and you let me help you, you should be able to pull yourself up using your arms and one leg.”
I stop what I’m doing, and we look into each other’s eyes. A feeling of elation comes over me. “I’m going to save your life, Will Banks.”
“Yes, you are, Belle.”
* * *
Okay, so, that was not pretty. Getting him out of that ravine involved a lot of my cheek pressed against his ‘other’ cheeks, while I pushed him up and he pulled. His foot dangled the entire time in a way that caused a good deal of gagging from yours truly. Yes, I grunted and gagged and pushed while he used his muscly muscles to climb to the top. Then he tossed the vine down and I zipped up. And I have to say, I probably looked like a real adventure woman doing it.
“Wow,” Will says, when I stand. “You’re like Spider-Woman.”
“Damn straight,” I answer with a nod. Pulling the stretcher so it’s next to him, I pat the middle of it. “Hop on.”
He shakes his head. “As well-constructed as that is, there’s no way you can pull me to town. Just help me make a splint and some crutches.”
“I absolutely can pull you on this.” I hold up the vine I’ve attached to the front. “This goes around my forehead, wrapped in a shirt, of course. I’ll be using my head and arms to drag you. I can’t guarantee a smooth ride, but it’s definitely going to work.”
“I weigh over two hundred—”
“Nope. No more talking. Get the fuck on the stretcher already.”
He opens his mouth, but I stop him with an “Ah-ah-ah!” sound and a wag of one finger. “Just shut up and let me save you. I’m in a huge rush because if I can do it fast enough, we’ll beat the clock, get our money, and you won’t die.”
“Honestly, just the last one is enough for me,” he says, dragging himself onto the stretcher.
“Well, not for this princess. I want it all,” I answer, gently lifting his right leg and placing it on top of the sleeping bag. Oh, that is a heavy leg. This is going to be tougher than I thought.
I hurry to the front of the stretcher. “I’m getting you that yacht, Mr. Banks. If it’s the last thing I do.”
* * *
ABN Nooner News with Veronica Platt
“Welcome to Nooner News. I’m Veronica Platt. Reporters from around the kingdom have made a mad dash to the airports this morning, after palace officials confirmed that King Winston is currently on his way to the village of Mbambole in Zamunda to retrieve his only daughter and fourth in line to the throne, Princess Arabella. Giles Bigly joins us live from the gate at Valcourt Airport, where he is about to board a plane. Giles, can you tell us what’s going on?”
“Yes, Veronica. About an hour ago, palace officials released a statement that Royal Air One was being prepared for an emergency flight. King Winston, as well as the entire royal medical staff, are aboard the plane and are currently en route to Mbambole.”
“Giles, any idea how Princess Arabella ended up there in the first place, or if she may indeed be gravely injured, thus requiring immediate medical attention?”
“Yes, Veronica, on a hunch, I walked over to the unscripted wing of our ABN headquarters and tracked down an executive there who did in fact confirm for me—off the record—that Princess Arabella is currently in the jungles of Western Zamunda filming a survival documentary with none other than Will Banks, host of “The Wild World.”
Veronica’s chin drops and she stares at the camera for a full two seconds before sputtering out her next comment. “So, the entire time everyone in the nation has been worried sick about her, she’s been off gallivanting in the jungle with Will Banks?”
“It would appear so, yes.” Giles turns from the camera as a boarding announcement comes over the speaker. “I’m afraid I have to go, Veronica. That’s the last call for boarding.”
“All right, Giles. Godspeed,” Veronica says with a serious look.
“Um, thanks.”
30
Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace
Will
I love this woman. I love her. Puke breath, sweat, and all. She’s fucking amazing. She’s been dragging me along this bumpy dirt road all day, huffing and puffing, and at times swearing like a sailor, but never giving up. She’s like this crazy-strong, determined woman who could do anything. The sun is high in the sky now and it’s so hot, she must be roasting with all the exertion, but she just keeps going.
A while ago, we came to a hill, and she hopped on the stretcher with me and used it as a sled, steering us all the way to the bottom. It was actually incredibly painful, what with all the bouncing and jiggling, but it was also kind of fun. When we got to the bottom, I asked her where she learned to do that. She gave me one nod and said, “Christmases at the castle. I wasn’t kidding about how much sledding we did.”
And then she got right back to pulling me to safety. I know it’s going to break her when she finds out we lost. The time ran out twenty minutes ago, and I haven’t had the heart to tell her. I don’t even care about the money, because as long as I have her, the rest means nothing. Not that now is the right time to tell her that. Not while I’m a two-hundred-pound weak burden to her. That type of confession is made at the perfect moment, when you’re able to stand on your own two feet and swoop her up in your arms and carry her off to bed.
“How much time do we have?” Arabella asks.
When I don’t answer right away, she stops in h
er tracks. “It’s over, isn’t it?”
Dropping the strap, she takes a few steps until she’s standing next to me.
I look up at her, seeing her bright pink cheeks and an angry red line across her forehead where the weight of the stretcher has been resting. I honestly don’t think I’ve loved anyone more than I love her at this very moment. I unclip the water bottle from my backpack and lift it to her.
She flops onto the road next to me and tips the bottle back, sucking it down in long gulps. When she lowers it, she gives me a sad smile. “It’s all right, Will. You can tell me.”
“We ran out of time.”
Blinking quickly, she says, “I’m sorry, Will. If I could go back, I’d never—”
“Hey, don’t start beating yourself up, okay?” I reach out and take her hand in mine. “You’ve been amazing today. I mean, truly incredible. Beyond what I thought was possible.”
The corners of her mouth curve up the slightest bit. “Thanks. But I really wanted you to be able to get your brother’s boat back.”
“No biggie,” I say. “He’s the kind of guy who will appreciate the thought.”
“You can’t sail around on a thought,” Arabella says, letting her shoulders drop.
“You know what?” I ask, squeezing her hand. “Last night, all I could think about was how I wish I’d lived my life before now. And I didn’t care if I had more money or a huge following for my show or my own line of outdoor gear—although that would be very nice. All I could think about was how much time I’ve missed out on with the people I love, and that if I had it to do over, I would have made them a bigger priority.” I stop for a second and wince as the pain in my leg starts to throb more. “It’s so cliché, right?”
“No, it’s a universal truth. And somehow all universal truths end up being turned into clichés. I think it’s done by cynical people, to be honest.”
“God, you’re smart.”
“If I were smart, I wouldn’t have eaten those bloody berries. And I wouldn’t have lied about it. I would have fessed up straight away so you could have mixed up some magic elixir or something.”
I’m about to tell her I’m in love with her, but before I can, she looks down at my ankle and gags. “We should go. You need a hospital.”
With that, she gets up and sets back along the road, dragging the useless lump of man behind her.
* * *
Dark clouds move in as evening draws near. The sky grows dark and it starts to pour, making the ground slippery and Arabella’s task much more difficult as mud cakes itself to the stretcher, adding extra weight. We’re both drenched by the time the sound of cars and voices can be heard above the pounding rain. Arabella uses what I’m certain is the last of her strength to drag me up one final, muddy hill. She stops when we get to the top and I hear her breathing hard. “We made it, Will.”
“It’s them!” a man shouts.
Suddenly the sound of camera shutters clicking, feet running, and people yelling takes over the quiet of the forest.
“We need an ambulance!” Arabella yells.
“Princess Arabella!” Dylan’s voice overtakes everyone else’s, and I turn my body so I can see what’s happening. Dylan is hurrying next to her while Tosh aims a camera at her face and Mac holds the boom mic over her head.
“Ambulance, now!” Arabella barks.
“Sure, sure,” Dylan says. “But first, can you tell us how you feel now that you lost?”
Arabella reaches out with her left arm, grabs Dylan’s face and shoves her hard. My mouth drops as I watch Dylan fall back and land in the mud. Arabella waits until she stops skidding, then says, “That’s how.”
Mac and Tosh burst out laughing and Arabella keeps going.
“Yes! Love that passion!” Dylan yells from the ground. “Great television!”
“That was great, all right,” Tosh says.
“She totally had that coming,” Mac adds.
A siren sounds nearby, and soon, an ambulance pulls up next to us. Arabella stops and drops the reins, then I hear her telling the paramedics what happened.
Tosh comes up to me with the camera. “Saved by a princess, hey?”
“Yup.”
Mac walks up and glances at my ankle. “Wow, that is disgusting.”
“What, this?” I ask. “It’s nothing.”
“Enough chitchat,” Arabella says, walking over to us. She smiles down at me while the paramedics get to work. “Told you I’d be carrying you out of here.”
Chuckling, I say, “So, you did.” I reach up and take her hand, squeezing it. “You’re amazing, Belle.”
“Step aside, please, miss,” one of the paramedics says.
I look up at him. “She should be taken to the hospital too, for exhaustion.”
He glances at me, then points to a small group of people who are coming toward us on foot. I recognize the man at the front of the pack from his picture on Avonia’s money. King Winston.
The paramedic looks down at me. “I think they’ve got her covered.”
A moment later, I’m lifted onto a gurney and the medical crew rushes me into the back of the ambulance. The last thing I see before the doors close is Arabella waving at me as a crowd of reporters surround her.
31
Soft, Warm Gingerbread Cookies, Soul-Crushing Nylons, and Shocking Revelations
Arabella
BUT FIRST … BREAKING NEWS WITH VERONICA PLATT
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you news from Zamunda, where Princess Arabella has been found alive.” Veronica pauses and waits while the breaking news opening sequence plays. When it ends, the camera zooms in on her.
“The entire kingdom can breathe a sigh of relief this evening as an unrecognizable Princess Arabella, seen here in this footage taken a few minutes ago, makes her way out of the jungle, pulling ABN’s own Will Banks of “The Wild World” on what looks to be a makeshift stretcher. Giles Bigly is on scene in the village of Mbambole. Giles, can you tell us what the atmosphere is like there?”
“It’s like something out of Apocalypse Now, Veronica,” Giles answers, sounding more excited than he ever has on television.
The video of Arabella coming over the hill starts up. Giles gives a giddy commentary. “The woman pulling the stretcher with her forehead is Princess Arabella herself, who appears to have turned into some sort of violent, fierce soldier out there. The man she is dragging is Will Banks—the heartthrob adrenaline-junkie-slash-nature documentarian. You know, the one you fancy.”
“I don’t fancy him, Giles,” Veronica says with a phony laugh. “I merely respect his work.”
“Right. Now, that other woman dressed in a suit who is rushing toward them is Dylan Sinclair, the new showrunner for “The Wild World.” Watch what happens here! She pushes her, Veronica! Right in the face!” Giles shouts.
“Is the princess high on some sort of steroids or something?” Veronica asks.
“I don’t think steroids make you high, Veronica. But regardless, after spending an afternoon in the presence of Ms. Sinclair, I can honestly say the princess only did what we all wished we could have done.”
The video continues, zooming in on King Winston who jogs toward Arabella, his staff in tow. “Here you see a lovely father-daughter reunion. They don’t hug, obviously, but I’m sure it’s only because Princess Arabella is badly in need of a wash.”
Footage of King Winston reaching out to embrace Arabella, then his head snapping back is shown next.
“Giles, were you able to get an interview with the princess or the king?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Directly following that almost-hug, she was whisked into a waiting limousine, and presumably taken to the airport. My best guess is that the medical staff will do a full examination and provide whatever care she requires en route back to Valcourt this evening.”
“Incredible, Giles. Just incredible.”
“She is, Veronica. Who knew she had that in her?”
* * *<
br />
And Now…Arabella
I stare into the foggy bathroom mirror at myself, fresh out of my first real shower in over ten days. My hair smells of lavender again. My skin is clean, my nails have been thoroughly scrubbed. And my brain has all but shut down completely, with all my thoughts seeming as clouded as my face.
As I pull on my boring beige bra and granny panties, I realize how tired I am. I’ve never been as physically exhausted as I am now, but at the same time, I’m wired on adrenaline and pride, and maybe love. I’m not even sure how I ended up on the plane or in the shower. I remember being in the limo with Dr. Hildegard checking my pulse and blood pressure, and looking into my eyes with a bright light. I remember his nurse handing me a cold bottle of orange juice, which tasted like heaven. I remember the rest of the people in the back of the vehicle discreetly trying to cover their noses and me realizing I was the cause of the unbearable odour.
As soon as I stepped aboard my father’s jet, I was told to go shower, and that fresh clothes would be laid out on the bed for me. I open the door that connects the bathroom to the bedroom, hoping it’s a set of cozy pajamas waiting for me. But it’s not. It’s a floral print mint green dress with long sleeves and a belt. Next to it is a pair of short beige heels and nude tights that are going to be absolute torture on my ankles. Well, not torture like what Will must be feeling right now.
Oh, Will.
I wonder if he’s in surgery for his leg. The thought of it so twisted and limp makes my stomach turn as I slide the dress over my head. I cinch the belt, and glance in the mirror, seeing the old version of myself—the one I’d hoped I could leave behind forever. I pick up the nylons, then set them back down again. I don’t have to go all the way back to being her again. I hold my head high and walk out of the room barefoot.
Royally Crushed: A Crazy Royal Love, Book 1 Page 20