Once Upon a Princess Page 4

  I take a deep breath. Grandpa always said a person can deal with anything for a short time. Besides, it’s not like school is so luxurious. The beds are narrow and not so soft, and I share a room with two other girls.

  Sophia and Claudia!

  I need to get in touch with them. They’re going to be so worried when I don’t show back up at school tonight. If they hear about what happened at the palace, they might think I’m hurt or even dead. I need to let them know I’m okay.

  Leaving my soda on the dresser, I fly down the stairs to where my backpack and phone are.

  “Fritzi, really,” Mam says as I hurtle into the living room. “You sound like a herd of elephants.”

  I rummage around in my bag for the phone I know is there. “I need to message Sophia and Claudia,” I say. “I have to tell them where I am.”

  “No!”

  I drop my bag and stare at Mam. “Why? I need to let them know I’m not dead or something.”

  “You can’t,” she says.

  “But they’re going to worry when I don’t show up at school.”

  What will they think when they hear about what happened? Will they hear? Is what happened at home on the news? I glance at the TV, but maybe this isn’t the best time to turn it on and check.

  “You can’t tell people where we are,” Georgie says, coming in from the kitchen.

  “Not even Sophia?”

  “No.”

  “What about Madame Colette? Does she know? She’ll be worried.”

  “No one,” Georgie says. “We’re hiding.”

  Hiding?

  The word hits me as if someone just punched me in the stomach. “But surely we’re not hiding from Sophia or Claudia or Mademoiselle Colette.”

  “From everyone,” Georgie answers firmly.

  “But why?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer. If we are hiding from everyone, then we really are in danger. Not just danger if we stay in the palace, but danger no matter where we are. And we have no security. How are we supposed to stay safe with no security? And no one can know where we are, except the Harts. Are the Harts more trustworthy than Mademoiselle Colette or Sophia? How can we be sure?

  “It’s complicated,” Georgie says, in that ever so condescending way that they must teach big sisters. “But it’s safer for all of us if no one knows where we are. And that means no social media either. Radio silence. Got it?”

  I want to run. To get out. To escape all this craziness. I glance toward the door, but where would I go? I don’t know where I am and wouldn’t know how to get back. Who are we hiding from? Could they be out there somewhere, waiting for us? I head up the stairs two at a time and slam the door of the little bedroom behind me before flopping onto the bed and letting myself cry.

  It takes about fifteen minutes before Georgie comes up and sits on the bed next to me. She places her hand gently on my back, a soothing gesture that I’m more used to receiving from Mam or Pap.

  “You have to be strong,” she says.

  I sit up and wipe my eyes. “I don’t understand what happened. Yesterday there was the ball. Today we’re hiding.”

  Georgie takes a deep breath. “I can’t say I understand it all either, but this is what I do know. There is an effort to overthrow Pap. People may get violent. Pap wants us out of the way and out of danger. That’s why we can’t say where we are.”

  “Is Pap still king?” I ask.

  “He is,” Georgie answers, but she sounds a little unsure.

  “He’s going to stay king, right?” It’s impossible to think of our family not ruling Colsteinburg. It’s our country, we founded it. My great-grandfather was king for more than sixty years. We are Colsteinburg.

  “I hope so,” Georgie says, and there is a faraway look in her eye. She’s the next in line for the throne. If Pap isn’t king, then she may never get to be queen. That’s not really fair to her; she doesn’t even get a say in it. Georgie lets out a deep breath and returns from wherever her thoughts have taken her. “Listen. I’m worried about Mam.”

  I slump down, all the strength going out of me. “What’s wrong with her?” Since when does Mam not take charge? She is the queen: the always dignified Queen Cassandra. But now she seems to have disappeared inside of herself.

  “I don’t know,” Georgie says, “but we’re going to have to take care of her until we can be with Pap again.” She stands up and walks to the window, pushing aside the plastic mini-blinds, and peers outside.

  I hug the pillow to me, wishing I’d brought my teddy bear with me. “I want it to be yesterday again,” I say. “Before the ball. Before everything went wrong!”

  Georgie turns to me with a sad grin. “So, do I, Fritzi. Oh, so do I.”

  She comes to the bed and hugs me, and I hang on tight. I’m afraid to let go. What if she’s all I have left?

  7

  A day has never passed so slowly. There is nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to see. Mam sits on the sofa in the living room, drinking tea when Georgie brings it to her. We put a frozen lasagna in the oven for our dinner. When it is barely dark out, we climb into bed.

  Mam takes the small room, leaving the larger bed for me and Georgie. We lie side by side in the near-darkness and don’t say a word. I can tell her I’m scared, but she knows that. There’s no point in repeating the same thing over and over.

  Monday and Tuesday pass in much the same way. We all nap most of the day, which Georgie says is due to jet lag. Maybe. Or maybe we can’t think of anything better to do.

  By Wednesday, I wish we’d stayed in Colsteinburg. At least being in danger wouldn’t be boring.

  I go downstairs after yet one more nap. I haven’t slept this much since I was a baby, and yet I’m still always tired. Mam is watching TV, a cup of coffee cooling on the table in front of her. She doesn’t look up, and I go into the kitchen, where Georgie is sitting at the table, an open can of soda in front of her. “I put the last frozen dinner in the oven,” she says, and I can smell the delicious aroma of tomatoes and spices coming from the oven. “I guess tomorrow we’re going to have to learn to cook or start getting take out.”

  “Do you know how to cook?”

  Georgie sighs. “Someone’s going to have to figure it out.”

  “Mam?”

  The look Georgie gives me lets me know that was a dumb question.

  “Then we’ll get takeout.”

  “I don’t know how long the money Mr. Hart gave us will have to last,” Georgie says.

  I sit down on one of the vinyl-covered kitchen chairs. “We have our own money.”

  “Only what we brought with us. And we’d have to change it to dollars.”

  “Credit cards?” I ask, hopefully.

  “I don’t know,” Georgie says. “I’m not sure we’ll have the money to pay them off until things settle down, or even if they still work.”

  “We’ll starve!” I say, my stomach already starting to grumble in anticipation.

  “No.” Georgie gets up and peers into the other room, but Mam is still staring at the TV. Georgie comes back and then sits down with me. She twists an emerald ring on her finger. “And if I have to, I can sell this, or pawn it or something.”

  “You can’t! You got it from Etienne!”

  Georgie stares at the shimmering green stone. “It’s just a ring. And if it’s between this and starving …”

  Not that I’d rather starve, but still. “But Etienne. He gave it to you almost like an engagement ring. How can you get rid of it?”

  “If everything works out all right, we’ll buy a new ring. And if it doesn’t …” Georgie’s eyes have a sadness in them I don’t remember ever seeing before. “Well, then the fewer reminders the better.”

  If we don’t get the kingdom back, the official arrangement that Georgie marry Etienne would probably be called off.

  “You can still marry him, you know,” I say. “Nothing would stop you.”

  “You don’t think so?” Georgie says, a touch of bitter
ness in her voice. “I think you’re living in a dream world.”

  Maybe. But my dream world is a happier place. I like it there.

  I twist the dragon ring I wear on my pinkie finger. “If we need to sell rings, we’ll start with this one,” I say.

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Georgie says and takes a deep breath. “I found out some stuff about home today,” she says.

  “And?” I ask, almost afraid to breathe while I wait for her answer. We checked, Georgie and I, every few hours when we were actually awake, for some news that was actually news and would tell us something useful. So far there’s been nothing.

  Georgie takes me by the hand and leads me upstairs to our room. “It’s better to talk about these things away from Mam.”

  I don’t like that. I want Mam to be in charge. I don’t want to have to protect her from things. She’s supposed to be protecting us.

  Georgie turns on her tablet computer.

  “What did you find out?” I ask. I don’t want to wait for her to show me some web page. I want her to tell me everything is going to be okay. That’s the only answer I’m really looking for here.

  “It’s Sophia’s father.”

  “What?” That answer doesn’t even make sense.

  “He’s behind it all,” Georgie says flatly.

  “No, he’s not. He’s the prime minister. He’s one of Pap’s friends.”

  “He’s the prime minister, it’s true,” Georgie answers, “but I’m not sure how much of a friend he is.” She pulls up a website that shows the palace of Colsteinburg, our beloved home, with the universal symbol for no, a red circle and slash, superimposed over it.

  Instead of the familiar white flag with red dragon, the page shows a flag with green and white stripes and a strange four-pointed star in the middle that looks like something from outer space.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, pointing at the picture and trying to push back the sick feeling in my stomach.

  “They want Colsteinburg to be a modern country,” she says.

  “We’re modern!” I protest. “We have electricity and toilets and cars and internet. What more do they want?”

  “They want a modern government, not a monarchy.”

  “Britain has a monarchy, no one says they’re not modern. And Denmark and Belgium and Monaco.” This isn’t fair. We had to flee from our home because someone wants what we already have?

  “They want a democracy,” Georgie says. There is a strain in her voice, and I can tell I’m testing her patience.

  “Democracy is not modern.” I learned about this from my tutor. “The Greeks had a democracy thousands of years ago.”

  “Fritzi, you don’t have to convince me,” Georgie says. “We’re on the same side, remember?”

  I take a deep breath and fight back tears. “Right.” I flop down on the bed next to her, burying my face in the comforter. After a minute, I roll over and ask, “So, what do we do? How do we fix this?”

  “We don’t,” Georgie says. “We can’t fix this. We have to let things play out.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Mr. Orcutt is not letting things play out. He’s actively doing something. We should actively resist.”

  “That’s for Pap to do, not us.”

  Arguing probably isn’t going to get me anywhere, but I’m not sure I agree. If we can be the face of Colsteinburg at events big and small, why can’t we speak up for it when it’s in trouble?

  “Why now?” I ask. “Why during the Octocentennial? Why take a time when everyone is celebrating the history of the country to say you want to change everything?”

  “Precisely because it is the Octocentennial,” Georgie says. “He’s saying that a twenty-first century country doesn’t need a government formed in the middle ages.”

  “So, he wants to be president or something?”

  “He says there should be an election, but yes, he wants to be president or something.”

  I swipe at my wet eyes with the back of my hand and sit up. “Why doesn’t Pap just run for president too? Then Orcutt would see that people really do like Pap.”

  Georgie leaves her tablet on the bed and walks over to the window. She stares off into the distance. “I’m not sure people really do like Pap. They liked King Franz, but …”

  “Not like Pap?” I jump off the bed and turn on her. “Everyone likes Pap. He’s the nicest guy in the world. He’s smart and funny and sweet and handsome. What is there not to like?”

  “Fritzi,” Georgie says, keeping her voice calm and soothing.

  “Don’t ‘Fritzi’ me,” I say. “Okay, maybe Pap isn’t as good at being king yet as King Franz was, but King Franz was king for more than sixty years. Pap just needs to get used to it. Mr. Orcutt needs to give him time.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Fritzi,” Georgie says.

  “It should,” I say.

  Francisco Orcutt needs to be convinced to be patient. And who could convince him? His daughter, Sophia, of course.

  I can text Sophia, and we can work this out between us. Maybe having Francisco Orcutt be in charge of the opposition is a good thing; I can actually do something now.

  I pull out my phone, and before Georgie can ask what I’m doing, I type, We need to talk. We need to make our fathers see reason and compromise. Are you with me?

  The second I hit send, the doorbell rings.

  We stare at each other as if this simple, homey sound is the start of a grand invasion. I’m almost afraid to breathe as we hurry downstairs. Mam is staring at the door, her eyes wide, her hands gripping a throw pillow.

  Georgie stands up straighter and heads to the door, wearing her courage like a cape. She looks through the peephole and then throws the door open.

  Standing on our front step is Henri.

  Mam jumps up. “Henri! Did you bring Frederick? Is Frederick here?” She rushes to him. He steps inside and closes the door. He is alone.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he says. “The king is not with me.”

  Mam sinks back onto the sofa. “Is he safe?”

  “He was safe and healthy when I left him,” Henri says. “He wants very much to be with all of you, but he must stay and fight for the kingdom.”

  “What is he doing to fight for the kingdom?” I ask. “How is he fighting? Can we help?”

  “Ah.” Henri smiles at me and gives a slight bow in my direction. “Your Royal Highness, your desire to help is admirable, but what you can do right now is stay here and safe so your father does not have to worry about you.”

  It doesn’t seem like nearly enough.

  Then I remember the text I sent Sophia. I am doing something to help.

  Sophia and I will save the kingdom.

  8

  We share dinner with Henri, and when we are done, and Mam and Henri have coffee in front of them, he says, “I’m afraid you may be here longer than we anticipated.”

  “Longer?” Georgie asks, a strain in her voice.

  “How long?” I demand. “We only brought a few clothes with us. We don’t have enough to stay longer. And what about school? I’m missing school. I can’t miss school!” My voice is rising to a level of near-hysteria, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. “Education is important! You keep telling me that!” I yell at Mam. “And how am I supposed to learn anything stuck in this stupid little condo? If we can’t go home, I should at least be allowed to go to school!”

  I push back from the table and run upstairs, not caring if I sound like—as Mam would say—“a herd of elephants.” I slam the door and throw myself on the bed. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair. If only we had stayed home, then we could help. Here we do nothing. I hate doing nothing. The tears run down my cheeks, and I don’t even try to rub them away. What’s the point?

  If Sophia would at least get in touch with me, then maybe I could do something.

  I hate feeling so helpless. So powerless.

  I mean, I’m twelve; I’ve never really wielded
much power, I suppose, but I’ve never felt helpless like this.

  There is a soft knock at the door, and without waiting for an answer (which I wasn’t inclined to give anyway), Georgie comes in. She sits next to me on the bed. “Well, it looks like you’re going to get what you want,” she says.

  I sit up, feeling a hundred times better. “I’m going back to Academie Sainte Marie?” I can’t wait to see Sophia and Claudia again. And to have things to do. Even Monsieur Garçon’s grammar class, as boring as it is, will be better than sitting around here staring at the walls. “And it’s safe there,” I continue, wiping the remains of the tears from my face. “They are really careful about who gets into the buildings. No one could bother me there. When do I leave? Will Henri fly over with me? Is that why he came?”

  Georgie doesn’t answer right away, and when I finally look at her, she is slowly shaking her head. She doesn’t look nearly as happy as I feel.

  “What?” I ask, not at all certain I want to know the answer.

  “You’re not going to Academie Sainte Marie.”

  “But—” I can’t even think what she might mean. “You said I was going to school.”

  “Yes. The local middle school,” she says.

  I stare at her. “The what?” Panic snakes its way through all my internal organs. “But how is that safe? If we are hiding? How is that going to work?”

  “Come down and talk to Henri,” she says.

  “I don’t want to,” I say.

  “You’re the one who said you should go to school,” Georgie points out.

  “I meant to Academie Sainte Marie.”

  “You can see if you can convince him of that,” Georgie says in a tone I know means she thinks I have no hope of succeeding. “At least going out to school every day won’t be as boring as sitting around here.”

  She kind of has a point about that.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to him.”

  It turns out Mam is completely against the idea.

  “It’s not safe,” she keeps repeating. “She needs to stay here with me where we can keep her safe.”