Once Upon a Princess Read online

“Your Royal Highnesses, please come inside,” Henri says, frustration evident in his voice.

  Georgie nods, but then answers the question anyway. “Our father thought that, under the circumstances, we should be somewhere else for the time being. I’m sure you can agree that was a prudent move.”

  “And what is your opinion on what is happening in your home country?”

  “I think you’d be better off asking policy questions from someone other than a couple of teenagers,” Georgie answers, the smile never wavering.

  “And where is your mother, Queen Cassandra?” the reporter asks.

  For the first time, Georgie falters somewhat. Do we tell them Mam is here with us or not? Which looks better, that Mam stayed with us or with the country?

  “She’s inside,” I say, making a split-second decision. “Of course. We’re kids, our parents wouldn’t send us out on our own. But she’s got a sick headache today. Please just leave her be.”

  “Why are you here under assumed names?”

  I think I’m pretty much done answering questions.

  “Assumed names?” Georgie affects a look of innocent confusion.

  “Your sister is registered in school as Fritzi Moore.”

  Boy, they really have been digging around.

  “But that’s my name,” I say and force a light laugh. “Why do you think it’s an alias?”

  “Your name is Fredericka Elisabetta Teresa von Boden don Mohr of Colsteinburg,” the reporter pronounces carefully.

  “Right,” I say. “Fritzi Moore. The longer version wouldn’t fit on the forms.”

  The cameraman laughs, and even the reporter smiles a bit.

  “Why didn’t King Frederick announce where you and your sister were?”

  “That is something you’ll have to ask him,” Georgie says. Her façade is starting to crack.

  “If you’ll excuse us, we need to go.” And with that, she takes me by the hand as if I’m a three-year-old and pulls me inside. Henri shuts and locks the door behind us.

  Mam is sitting on the sofa, a throw pillow clutched tight in her hands. She looks alarmingly pale. Georgie, on the other hand, who a second ago was my ally, turns on me, high color in her cheeks.

  “How could you?” she demands.

  “I …”

  “You put us all in danger.”

  “I …”

  “You jeopardized everything Pap is doing to fix things.”

  “And what is he doing?” I find the gumption to fight back. “There’s nothing about him in the news. He’s giving no speeches, making no pleas. We don’t even know if he’s okay. Why shouldn’t I do something to help?”

  “And you think this will help?” Mam’s voice is hard, and it startles me.

  This is not the time to back down. What’s done is done. I stand taller, throwing my shoulders back and trying to appear confident, even though I’m not.

  “I do.”

  “Why?” Georgie asks.

  I take a deep breath. If they would give me a chance to explain, maybe I could convince them.

  “Soda commercials,” I say, which maybe isn’t the clearest way to begin.

  “What?” All three of them look at me like I’m crazy.

  “TV commercials make people love their products. Like soda. Everyone loves soda.”

  “Except maybe people who want to be healthy,” Georgie says and gives me a small smile. Maybe she isn’t as mad at me as I thought.

  “Almost everyone, then,” I say. “Anyway, how do they convince everyone to like their particular brand of soda? There are ads that show everyone being happy and loving and topping it off with their drink. So I thought I’d do the the same thing and be happy and loving and they would think happy thoughts and want us back.”

  Henri bursts out laughing.

  I don’t think it’s funny; I still think it’s a brilliant idea.

  The tension is broken, and Georgie says, “There’s a certain logic there. But why didn’t you come to us? We could have at least showed you how to turn off the geo-tagging.”

  “You were too sad about Etienne,” I say. “And I didn’t even know geo-tagging was a thing.”

  “They found us,” Mam says, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I say. “If you’re worried about us being hurt, we’re probably safer if the whole world knows where we are and is watching. Who’s going to hurt us if a TV camera is filming?”

  Mam stands up, and for the first time since we’ve left home, she almost looks regal. “Someone who wants the world to know you’ve been hurt.” She sweeps past me and up the stairs.

  My mouth goes dry.

  “Why would someone want the world to know that?” I ask Georgie.

  She has her arms crossed in front of her, and her face is ashen.

  “I don’t know.”

  That does not make me feel any better. Georgie is supposed to have the answers.

  “No one will hurt you,” Henri assures us.

  I curl up on the sofa and try to figure this out. How would it help anyone if people knew they had hurt us? Would it make someone like them more? Of course not; Georgie and I are innocent girls. No one wants to see us hurt. People might want a different government, but I can’t believe they’d really want to see something bad happen to the royal family. Visions of the execution of the Romanov family over a hundred years ago flash through my mind. But that was a long time ago, and things were different then. And for what it’s worth, the Romanov murderers didn’t exactly go public with the information. No. We are definitely safer if the TV cameras are following us around than if they aren’t.

  I check my phone to see how many views my video has gotten since I’d been at school. My video has thousands of views and has been reposted all over the place. There are tons of positive comments. Some negative ones too, to be sure, but I won’t let myself focus on those right now.

  “We need to make another video,” I say when Henri has gone into the kitchen and left us alone.

  “I don’t think so,” Georgie says. “Look how much trouble one video caused.”

  “But that’s because it let them find us. They already found us. So what’s the harm? Besides, you need be in one with me.”

  She shakes her head, but this is one time I know what I’m talking about.

  “What this fight needs is more positive publicity.”

  Georgie raises one eyebrow and waits for me to continue, looking at me over the rising steam in her cup.

  “Our side is not getting the word out. But we can,” I say. “People liked my video yesterday. People are talking about it.”

  “And what would you say in your next video?” Georgie challenges me.

  “We tell people where we are.”

  Georgie frowns.

  I point out the window. “They’ve figured it out already, but if we make a video, announcing it, then we can’t be portrayed as hiding anything.”

  “Maybe,” Georgie says, drawing out the word like she’s not really convinced yet.

  “You’re next in line for the throne. People have to know you haven’t abandoned them. It’s very important.” I pause, and she doesn’t say no, so I’m going to assume that she’ll do it.

  “Should I turn off the geo-tagging?” I ask as I get out my phone.

  “Doesn’t really matter at this point,” Georgie says, “if we’re going to tell them where we are anyway. And I know just what to say.”

  I smile. I like being a team with Georgie.

  We sit on the sofa, and I hold the phone out at arm’s length and start the video.

  “Hallo!” I start like I did last time. “Prinzessin Fredericka here.”

  “And Prinzessin Georgiana,” Georgie adds. “We are in Boston,” she says. “We came for the chowder, which is so good we thought we would stay awhile. But we’ll be home soon. We love you all and miss you!”

  “Prost!” I say and end the video.

  “That’s all there is to it?
” Georgie asks.

  “Short and sweet, that’s my theory. More people are apt to watch it if it’s short.”

  I upload it, share it, and cross my fingers that this all works out like we hope.

  15

  Wednesday morning, I get dressed for school, wishing I had something other than jeans and T-shirts to wear. Everyone knows I’m a princess now, and I’d like to look like one. Of course, my grandmother would tell me that it’s not the clothes we wear that make us who we are, but how we act. Finally, I can act like a princess again. I’m actually looking forward to going to school.

  When I get down to breakfast, there are boxes of cereal on the table, and Georgie and Mam are deep in conversation with Henri. They all look up when I enter, and I know they were talking about me, though I can’t imagine what the issue is. I’m up and dressed and ready for school, and I’m not giving anyone any attitude.

  I pick up a box of cereal and prepare to pour some into a bowl.

  “You are not going to school today,” Henri says.

  I put the box down, bowl still empty, and look at the three of them. Mam, as is often the case these days, looks slightly shell-shocked. Henri looks grim and determined, but it’s Georgie’s face that worries me. She is pale, and there is a hint of fear in her eyes that I don’t like at all.

  “Why? What happened?” I ask. “Is it because the reporters know where we are?”

  “It’s because we’ve had death threats against Georgiana,” Henri says.

  Mam gets up and walks out of the kitchen without a word.

  “Death threats?” I’m glad I didn’t pour the cereal. I’m not hungry any more.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Georgie says, false bravado in her voice. “I mean, just someone trying to scare me.”

  “Is it working?” I ask.

  “Of course not,” Georgie says and forces a laugh so I’ll believe her. I don’t.

  “Well, it scares me,” I say.

  “It scares me as well,” Henri says. “I cannot protect the three of you if you are not all in the same place. I must insist you stay home today. Besides, there are still news vans outside hoping to catch a glimpse of the royal family. It is better if we do not give them more to talk about.”

  “Oh.” I don’t argue with him. There are plenty of things to fight about, and being allowed to go to a school I don’t like that much isn’t really one of them. “What kind of threats?” I ask.

  “The kind is not important,” Henri says.

  We’ve had death threats against us before. Usually, what happens is that we are kept under tight security at the palace for about a week or so until the threat has been neutralized. That’s how they always word it. “The threat has been neutralized.” I’m not stupid, though. I know it means that a team of investigators and police and whoever else Pap has at his disposal, which is pretty much everyone in the kingdom, has done mountains of work to find and arrest the person who made the threat. All we have is Henri. What can he do except not let us go out? That won’t neutralize anything. We’ll be prisoners here as effectively as if someone else had actually taken us prisoner.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Georgie says. “Just someone who wants to feel important by making threats. A big bully. That is all.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with the coup?” I ask, skeptical.

  “Impossible to say,” Henri says. He gets up and pours himself more coffee. “But I will keep you safe. I assure you.”

  “So, what are we going to do all day?” I ask. “Just hide out in here?”

  It turns out that’s exactly what we end up doing. The townhouse is small; there’s no getting away from everyone. By lunchtime, the last of the news vans have given up, and I’ve watched all the cat videos I can stand. I want to be back at the palace. I want to be in the palace gardens, where there are acres to roam without any danger at all. There is a swing in a huge maple tree, and I could swing and marvel at the changing colors of the leaves. That’s where I want to be right now.

  I’m so bored I wish I had fought to be allowed to go to school.

  As a special lunch treat, Henri makes meat and cheese rolls like we eat at home, but the cheese doesn’t taste right, and it only makes me wish even harder that I was back in Colsteinburg and everything was as it should be.

  “What do you think is going on at home?” I ask. “Do you think Pap is okay?”

  Mam gets up from the table and walks to the window, not even glancing my way. Georgie takes a deep breath but doesn’t really follow it up with anything. I look at Henri, and he hesitates before meeting my eye.

  “It’s very hard to know.”

  “But if something really bad happened, we would know, right? I mean, no news is good news and all that.” No one answers me. I push my plate away, no longer the least bit hungry. I need to find out what’s going on at home.

  I run upstairs. If something really bad had happened, of course we would know about it. If he were dead or had abdicated, it would be all over the news. If we haven’t heard anything, it’s because he’s still plotting his strategy; that has to be the answer. But just to be sure, I pull out my tablet and search for him. Maybe there is an answer out there if we look hard enough.

  What I find are lots of people with opinions. Some people still back the monarchy, but they are drowned out by the opposition. More than once, I see Pap referred to as a playboy, a dilettante, or a pretty boy, but that doesn’t make sense. Pap is a dedicated family man and so in love with Mam that the thought of him having an affair is absolutely laughable.

  Georgie walks into the bedroom we share.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “What’s a dilettante?” I ask her, ignoring her question. I’m not okay, and we both know it.

  She sits on the bed next to me. “An amateur, I think.”

  “Why would people call Pap an amateur? Because he hasn’t been king long?”

  “Because people think he’s just playing at it, that he doesn’t really want to be king.”

  “Of course he wants to be king,” I say.

  Georgie doesn’t answer right away.

  “He does want to be king, right?” I persist.

  “I think he wasn’t quite ready for Grandpa to die so soon. He thought he’d have more time before he had all the responsibility.”

  If that’s all it was, we all thought that. Who thought after King Franz lived into his nineties that King George would die when he was only in his sixties? No one was ready for Pap to have to take over, but that is no reason for a coup. That’s simply a reason to give him a chance.

  “And why would they call him a playboy?” I ask. “Do they think he would cheat on Mam? Because he wouldn’t, and you better not tell me he would.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t,” Georgie says. “I think they mean he likes to party and have fun. They’re trying to make Orcutt seem like the serious one and Pap seem unfit.”

  “But they’re lying,” I say. “We can’t let them get away with lying like that.”

  “You don’t understand,” Georgie says.

  I jump up from the bed. “I’m tired of people telling me I don’t understand. If people would take the time to explain it to me, I would. I’m not an idiot, you know.” I take a deep breath. “I’m going out.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Georgie asks in a way that sounds very much like Mademoiselle Colette or the headmistress at school.

  “Out.” I repeat. “I can’t stand being cooped up any longer.”

  “You can’t,” Georgie says. “Henri wants us to stay in.”

  “I don’t care,” I say. “I need to get out.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “I’ll be gone ten minutes tops. I just need to get out of the house.” I don’t give her a chance to respond. I rush down the stairs and step outside. I feel like I’m making a daring escape from prison or something, but all I’m doing is going for a walk.

  I pr
obably have three minutes before Henri comes after me. I don’t care. It’s freedom.

  I walk fast, not caring where I’m going, just trying to give myself more of a head start over Henri.

  Pap a dilettante? An amateur? A playboy? That is not who Pap is, not even a little. Why can’t people see Pap the way I see him? Maybe they can! All I need to do is film more videos and tell them.

  I’ve walked to the school, which wasn’t my plan, but it isn’t really surprising considering it’s the only place in town I’ve been so far. I check my watch. Classes will get out soon. It’s quiet and peaceful here, but that will change in a few minutes. I sit on the brick steps, warm from the afternoon sun, to film my video.

  “Hallo, Prinzessin Fredericka here. When King George died, my father, even in his sorrow, was thinking of Colsteinburg. ‘May God grant me the wisdom and strength to rule as wisely as those who came before me.’ That’s what he said. He loves Colsteinburg. We all do. Prost!”

  I upload the video. I’ll have to make more. I can share favorite memories of Pap, let people see what he’s like as a father. I’m sure I can convince them to all love him as much as I do, if they’ll only listen. Right now, I’d better move on. I don’t want to find myself in the middle of a crowd when the school bell rings. I may have escaped from Henri temporarily, but then again, that means I don’t have any security, and even though the death threat was against Georgie, that doesn’t mean I’m in the clear. I know better than to take unnecessary risks.

  When I stand, I find myself face to face with a stranger. He is medium height and weight, wearing jeans and a green polo shirt. His goatee is the only thing that might set him apart from anyone else. I let out a startled squeak and take a step backwards as my heart beats double-time.

  I never should have left the safety of the townhouse. Now I’m going to be murdered here on the school steps, and Georgie will never forgive me.

  16

  The stranger reaches out to steady me. “Do not be afraid, Your Royal Highness.” He speaks to me in German, the language of home, and I start to relax. “I am Felix Martel. A friend of your father’s. May I speak with you?”