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“I have heard things. Yes, I am sure he had… issues… but it was my understanding that the girls have been very sheltered. To this point, they are protected from prying eyes. Clearly. I haven’t heard anything about the princesses. And until she passed me this morning, I did not see Her Majesty. We’ve been here a day. It is odd. I agree it is strange, sir.”
“I’m not angry with her. What good does it do to be mad at her? She’s just a girl. But my parents? They brought me to this creepy fucking place and put me up to this. Am I simply expendable? I thought Mamma would at least care about me. This girl has a poor grip on reality, don’t you think?”
“I know nothing, sir,” Martin said. “I apologise.”
“Maybe she is just immature? Is this her damsel fantasy?”
Martin shrugged.
“I don’t like damsels. I like my women feisty and loud. She’s basically a walking doormat.”
“Sir, if she was a doormat, would she have engineered a marriage plot?”
“Maybe she is less doormat and more immature child?”
Martin looked off as a man approached with an envelope.
“Your Royal Highness.” The footman bowed. “An invitation.”
I popped the letter open. This was all high and mighty. Did they do this to impress everyone here?
I read the letter. It was an invite to dine with the Queen and Dowager Queen. I wanted to run but didn’t have a choice. That would be rude. If it got back to Pappa, I’d be toast. I nodded in agreement.
“Yes, I will attend.”
The footman bowed again.
As he left, Martin looked at me for a sign.
“Dinner. I’ve been invited. Let’s… take a walk in the garden. I need some air.”
We walked through a grove of trees when we heard voices. A girl was shrieking, sounding like she was fighting off a slasher. I was sure I was about to avenge someone. I rushed towards the sound, Martin following. There, I found a stream flowing through the gardens. One girl stood in the middle of the stream glaring at another who laughed on its banks.N o murderer in sight.
My heart’s racing beat slowed. Martin stood down and stepped back, fading into the grove of trees upon seeing the girls.
The one in the stream asked in French, “Who are you?”
“Me?” I pointed at myself like an idiot. “I’m… Rick.”
“Who? How did you get here?”
“Ingrid, calm down,” the girl on the shore said.
“I’m visiting from Lundhavn. A guest of your sister’s… I’m assuming?” I asked.
“Which sister?” They said in unison.
The girl in the stream, hands on her hips, said, “Yes, there arefourof us. You should specify.”
“Alexandra. The Queen.”
The other asked, “And how do you know her then?”
“I don’t… not well anyway,” I answered. I wondered if everyone in this place was mad.
I heard a third voice calling out before another girl appeared. This one looked like Alexandra in the way the other two didn’t.
“Who the fuck are you?”
