Once Upon a Princess Read online

  “Do you think Frederick is still alive?” Mam asks, her voice surprisingly controlled.

  Mr. Hart nods. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do. If he were not, the other side would be quick to use that to their advantage.”

  “We need to go home!” I say. “We need to find Pap!”

  Georgie puts her free hand on my knee. “We can’t help him. We need to let others do that.” I don’t see why. Except that others have training and experience and equipment and things like that.

  Mam is sitting straight and regal in the armchair, her hands folded in her lap. She almost looks a little like her old self.

  “Is there anything we can do to help Frederick?” she asks.

  Mr. Hart tugs at his tie and clears his throat again. “Until he gets in touch with us, Your Majesty, we won’t know what kind of help he needs.”

  “But you’re looking for him? Right?” I ask. “I mean, someone is.”

  “Yes, Your Royal Highness, someone is.”

  “And what about the reporters?” Mam asks. “Our hiding spot has been compromised. What should we do? Should we find a new place to stay?”

  “I’m working on it. It may take a few days.” He turns to Henri. “Can you keep this place secure until then?”

  Henri nods. “It is under control.”

  Henri’s notion of keeping us safe is keeping us locked up. We didn’t flee from our home to be prisoners, did we? What if Felix is right and Henri can’t be trusted? Then what? And how is any of this helping Pap? I can’t even ask these questions. I need to get away, but there’s nowhere I’m allowed to go. I run upstairs. They don’t need me at their little meeting anyway; I’m just a kid. I throw myself on the bed I share with Georgie and swallow hard a couple of times to keep from crying. Crying will not help.

  So what can I do?

  Not much. But I can make another video.

  I check myself in the mirror and decide I look respectable enough. I take a deep breath and turn the camera back on.

  “Hallo! Prinzessin Fredericka here. I love you all, and I love Colsteinburg. I also love my father, King Frederick. If anyone has seen him, please let me know. We are worried about his safety. Danke.”

  I don’t end with “Prost” this time. “Cheers” doesn’t seem like a good way to conclude this video.

  I upload the video and share it, and this time I stay online to see if there are any responses.

  The responses start almost right away, but no one has seen Pap.

  Everyone is real apologetic and hopes we track him down soon. They all sound concerned. These are not people who really want to overthrow the government, I’m sure of it. People who support the monarchy are out there; we just need to make sure they can have their voices heard.

  There are a few who say hateful things, like they hope he is dead, but I try to ignore those.

  The door opens, and Georgie peeks in.

  “Are you all right?” she asks.

  “I don’t know.” I show her the latest video and the responses to it. “No one has seen Pap. Do you think he’s okay?”

  Georgie reads the messages. “I hope so,” she says.

  “We should go home and find him.”

  She shakes her head. “You heard what Mr. Hart said. It’s not safe. We’ll show this to him and Henri. They have the contacts who can help Pap.”

  I suppose that is true, but something about the statement bothers me. “Why don’t we have the contacts?” I ask. “We’re the royal family. We know everyone. Or at least everyone knows us.”

  “What we don’t know,” Georgie says softly, “is who we can trust.”

  I shiver and try to tamp down the sick feeling that comes over me. “We can trust Ambassador Hart, right?” And what about Henri? And Felix? Can we really trust anyone other than ourselves?

  “He gave us his house,” Georgie says.

  “But what if it’s a trick?”

  “I think we can trust him.”

  I’d feel a lot better if she hadn’t added “I think” to that sentence.

  “I’m scared,” I admit.

  “I know,” Georgie says. She rubs my back, and the gentleness of the gesture almost makes me want to cry. I wait for her to tell me it will all be all right, that we just have to give it time. She doesn’t say that.

  “I want to go home,” I whisper.

  She shakes her head. “I know, but we can’t. It’s not safe.”

  “But we could do something to help. I know we can.”

  “We can’t, Fritzi. You just have to accept that.”

  I am not going to accept that. I’m also not going to argue with Georgie about it. That would be particularly unproductive.

  “What about Mam?” I ask. “Do we have to accept that she’s disappeared into herself? Shouldn’t she be home where she can get help?”

  “She’s doing better. Maybe everything’s going to be okay if we just give it time.”

  But how much time will it take? How much do we have?

  “You know what would make Mam better? Getting her home so she can be queen again.”

  Georgie nods. “You have to have patience, Fritzi.”

  But I’m out of patience.

  18

  Late at night, lying in bed next to a sleeping Georgie, I feel the worry coming back. Maybe they’ve lost touch with Pap because he’s on his way here in response to my video. That would be good. But what if Pap doesn’t see my video? What if he doesn’t come? What if he can’t? What if someone hurts him when he’s trying to leave? Why didn’t he just come here with us when he had the chance? I wish we were all together. I wish I could go home, but even if I could manage to get myself to the airport, there’s no way I could either buy a ticket or convince the people at the airline that I’m allowed to travel alone.

  Sometimes I wish I were as old as Georgie. Then I could do whatever I wanted.

  I roll over and look at my phone. Did Pap see my video? Did Claudia and Sophia see the one where I mentioned them? There are no messages from either of them, but Claudia has commented on the video itself with a simple “amis pour toujours,” friends forever.

  Why can’t I be back at Academie Sainte Marie with her instead of here with Jasmine and Bethany, two people who are frankly a little hard to figure out? Life was easier when I was definitely a princess and got to act like it.

  Though there is nothing stopping me from acting like a princess even though my country is in chaos.

  I turn the camera on and hope I don’t wake Georgie. There is enough light coming in the window from the street light that I think this will work.

  “Hallo! Prinzessin Fredericka here. It is late, and I cannot sleep because my heart cries for Colsteinburg. It is my country, and I want the people there to be happy. But can’t you be happy with us there as well?”

  I turn off the camera and upload the video before the tears that are threatening actually come to my eyes.

  “It will be all right, Fritzi,” Georgie says softly.

  She wasn’t asleep after all. Or maybe I woke her up.

  I want to answer her, but now there is a lump in my throat. None of this is fair.

  She reaches out and takes me in her arms and sings a Colsteinburg lullaby to me, and finally I drift off to sleep.

  When I wake up, Georgie is already out of bed. I go downstairs, where Mam is drinking a cup of coffee and Henri is scrambling eggs. “Do you want eggs, Your Royal Highness?” he asks. There doesn’t seem to be any question of my going to school today.

  “Ja, bitte,” I answer and sit down at the table with Mam. “Where’s Georgie?”

  “She’s just out on the back patio,” Mam says. “Did you sleep well?”

  She’s beginning to sound like her old self.

  “Not really,” I answer.

  “I haven’t slept well in over week,” Mam says and gazes into her coffee mug.

  Over a week. It hasn’t even been two weeks yet since the ball and the coup. It feels like a lifetime.


  “Things will get better soon, Mam. They have to.” Won’t she be surprised when Pap shows up tonight and we can all work together to take back the kingdom? She’ll feel so much better when she has something positive to do. I know it helped me.

  Mam looks at me, and I don’t like the sadness in her eyes.

  “Things are not going to get better, Fritzi. I think it’s time you accepted that.”

  “No! I will not accept that! Things will get better. Pap is taking care of everything right now. I’m sure he is.” Should I tell her about Felix? Should I give her hope? Or keep the secret? I’m not sure why it has to be a secret, but Pap will come today, or tomorrow at the latest, and then I won’t have to worry about it being a secret anymore. I won’t say anything yet. I don’t want her to be disappointed if it takes him longer than expected to get here.

  Mam doesn’t shrink into herself as she’s done so much lately. Instead she looks intently into my eyes. “I don’t think he can fix this, Fritzi.”

  Then I’ll fix it. I don’t say it out loud, though, because she would just tell me I can’t, and I don’t want to hear that.

  Henri brings a plate with eggs and toast on it and puts it in front of me.

  “You can’t fix it either, Your Royal Highness,” he says softly, as if he read my very thoughts.

  Georgie comes in from outside. “I was talking to the boy next door,” she says. “He takes classes at the local community college. Maybe I could do that, too.”

  “We’ll see,” Mam says. It sounds like she’s actually considering it.

  But we’re going home! I want to scream. Why is everyone acting like we’re staying here? I eat my eggs in silence and go back up to my room. More videos are needed. The ones I’ve made have gotten attention, but they haven’t fixed anything yet.

  It’s time to get serious about that.

  I dress and do my hair and try to make myself look as respectable and royal as possible. It’s important that this message be just right. I pull out my notebook and flip to the last page and write down what I want to say.

  When I’m ready, I turn on the camera.

  “Hallo, Prinzessin Fredericka here! I understand that some-times people want change. And perhaps Colsteinburg wants change too. But not everything has to change at once. Think about it. Prost!”

  I upload it and then record another one.

  “Hallo, Prinzessin Fredericka here! Here I see the stars and stripes of the American flag, but I long to see, once again, the dragon flag of Colsteinburg. I love my country. It is small but feisty. Kind of like me. Prost!”

  I schedule that video to upload in an hour. In the meantime, I need to think of more short and quick things I can say.

  I wish Pap had responded to the video I addressed to him. Some little note to let me know he got the message and is on the way. But I suppose I just have to take it on faith. I can’t wait to see him again.

  The day passes slowly. Time seems to have taken on a new dimension here, and it’s driving me crazy. In the afternoon, I go down to the kitchen to see if Henri needs help.

  “You did not like the meat rolls the other day?” Henri asks.

  “They didn’t taste like home. Almost, but not quite.”

  “I cannot find the right cheese here. So how about we have something American for dinner tonight?”

  “Like what?”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs?”

  I laugh. “That’s not American. That’s Italian.”

  “Not the way I make it,” Henri assures me.

  Henri is no more American than the rest of us, but at least he’s not mad at me for running off yesterday. I agree to help him make American spaghetti. We start with a sauce, using some from a jar and adding fresh tomatoes and peppers and onions and letting that simmer on the stove. Then we tackle the meatballs, adding a bit of any spice we can find in the cupboard to the ground beef. Henri browns them in a pan and adds them to the sauce.

  “All that’s left is cooking the pasta when we’re ready to eat,” he says.

  “Do we make that from scratch?”

  He holds up a box. “No, only Italians do that. This is American spaghetti.” He pulls a box of pudding mix out of the cupboard and tosses it to me. “Here, you can make dessert.”

  It’s hardly the sparkling desserts we’re used to back home, but it is better than nothing.

  Mam and Georgie emerge from upstairs when it’s time to eat.

  “We made American spaghetti,” I tell them. “It’s Henri’s special recipe.”

  “This should be interesting,” Georgie says, eyeing the food skeptically.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I helped.”

  “Oh.” Georgie raises her eyebrows. “I’m sure that makes everything better.”

  She might not think I can make everything better, but Felix said my videos were helping, and hopefully soon, my video to Pap will bring him to us. Then she’ll see that I’m able to be helpful, in more than just making dinner too.

  After dinner, we watch Pirates of the Caribbean, and it’s far enough removed from our real life to offer a bit of escape. A little bit of escape, for however short a period of time, is nice.

  The next day, Friday, I am still home from school but trying not to worry about it. Soon things will certainly be resolved, and I’ll be back at Academie Sainte Marie. I hold on to that hope because there is so little hope to hold on to anymore.

  At least we have something to look forward to today. Ambassador Hart and his wife are coming for dinner, and they’re bringing the dinner.

  “I wish I had something decent to wear,” Mam says as she surveys the limited clothes she escaped with.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mam,” Georgie says, putting a soothing hand on her shoulder. “The Harts know the situation. They are not expecting us to be dressed as if it were a state dinner.”

  “I need new clothes,” Mam says with a sigh. I wish she could have new clothes, too, so she could look wonderful for Pap when he gets here.

  “We could go shopping,” Georgie suggests with a touch of hopefulness. Georgie loves shopping. There have been been no further threats to Georgie, and it seems likely that the initial threat was simply someone messing around. Hopefully, soon Henri will deem it safe for us to go out again.

  “No!” Mam is quick to answer. “No. Not yet. Not until things settle down. It’s not safe.”

  “We could send Henri for things,” I say. After all, he bought me school supplies and gym shorts.

  Mam looks at me with one eyebrow quirked. It’s such a Mam look that I want to laugh. “And I can just imagine what Henri would come back with. No. I suppose I’ll have to make do.”

  Later, as Georgie and I are getting dressed, Georgie looks at her own wardrobe with despair. “Mam is right,” Georgie says. “We need new clothes.”

  “We could order them over the internet,” I suggest.

  Georgie does not look impressed.

  “We’re going to have to go shopping. Mam is almost her old self. Soon, maybe she won’t be afraid to let us go to the mall.”

  Of all the things that I want to have happen soon, going to the mall is not even in the top five. I’d rather just go home and get our own things, but I know better than to suggest that.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hart are dressed as casually as we are, so it doesn’t feel weird to be wearing jeans. They’ve brought a full, traditional roast beef dinner with potatoes and salad. It’s delicious, and it feels so normal to be entertaining diplomats that I almost forget that nothing is the same anymore.

  At first, the conversation revolves mainly around mutual friends from the time when the Harts lived in Colsteinburg. There’s no talk about the coup or danger or anything, and then Mrs. Hart, a willowy woman who matches her husband in dignity and propriety but with a gentle face, casually mentions Sophia’s mother.

  “I heard from Sylvia Orcutt today,” she says as she butters a roll.

  The wife of the leader of the opposition. Our once-upon-a-ti
me friend.

  Mam’s smile looks slightly more forced than it did a mo-ment ago.

  “I hope she is doing well,” she says.

  “She is very sorry that this has torn apart your family. She wanted me to let you know that.”

  Mam nods. “Well, that’s quite thoughtful of her,” she says with no warmth in her voice at all.

  “Cassandra, I’m so sorry things are happening the way they are, but be assured no one wants to hurt you or your family. Sylvia was very emphatic about that.”

  Mam sighs. “I suppose we have to be grateful for small favors.”

  I glance toward the door. This would be a perfect time for Pap to walk in, but the door stays resolutely shut.

  “So Pap is safe? Wherever he is? No one wants to hurt him?” I ask.

  The grown-ups all exchange glances, and I don’t like the looks they are giving one another.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I ask. “What do you know that I don’t know? Is he safe?” I don’t even wait for an answer, not that it looks like anyone is jumping up to reassure me. “He’s got to come here. He’d be safer. He can regroup here and then get the country back!”

  Mr. Hart’s eyebrows jump up. “He can’t do that!” he says, as if horrified by the prospect. “As soon as he leaves the country, it’s as good as abdicating. As long as he stays in Colsteinburg, he has a chance of settling down the opposition.”

  “What?” I ask, even though I heard him perfectly well. The roast I’ve been eating sits like a hard lump in my belly. Did I ask him to leave only to ruin all our chances of ever getting the country back? But why would Felix tell me that if he were really on our side? He had to know this.

  “He can’t leave Colsteinburg,” Mr. Hart repeats.

  “You knew that, Fritzi,” Georgie says. “He told you that when we were leaving the palace.”

  “But he leaves all the time. We go on vacation. He’s been to America before and Paris and lots of places, and that didn’t mean he stopped being king.”

  “It’s different now,” Mr. Hart says, and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. They’re right. It is different now, and I’ve made a horrible mistake.