AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I swallow hard. The casual address is reserved for times when she wants something. “Auntie.”
“I’m sorry for the dramatic circumstances. Regina had to take new official photographs.” She gestures to the right. On one side, partially hidden by a statue, a woman works behind a tripod, fiddling with cameras and light reflectors. “Thank you, Regina.” The woman curtsies and disappears beyond the curtain. Seconds later, a door closes.
My aunt never does anything randomly. She asked me to meet her here, amid these “dramatic circumstances,” to remind me of her position and that any request from her is not really a request. As if I need reminding.
“How may I serve you, Auntie?”
She descends the wide marble stairs and puts a hand on the arm I offer in support. “Walk with me.” Her firm grip steers me across the front of the room to a door partially hidden behind the last marble pillar. I pull it open and allow her to exit ahead of me.
We step onto a stone path through a high-walled garden. It’s little more than a corridor, with vines growing up the south-facing wall in a carefully manicured display. There’s a parallel hall inside the grape-covered building that leads to the same comfortable sitting room, so the Grand Duchess needn’t go outside in inclement weather. But this narrow garden is pleasant in the late summer. The north-facing side features a series of small sculptures and fountains, hidden in the shade of the wall. A little frog plops into one of the fountains, his croaking silenced by our approach. Birds flutter away from their perches, and a fat bee bumbles past, not realizing or caring she’s buzzing the head of state.
“You’re home for a few weeks, correct?”
I jerk my attention from the insect to my aunt. “Yes, Madame. I’m here until mid-November. Father has me scheduled to handle the Rotheberg Polkafest. I’ll be there for setup on the twelfth.”
She nods regally and continues pacing beside me, her gaze on the far end of the garden, although I doubt she’s really looking at the ancient, metal-strapped, wooden door that leads back into the palace.
We reach the door, and I open it for her. She pauses, then turns back toward the throne room. I let the door swing shut and follow, glancing surreptitiously at my watch. I need to leave shortly if I’m to meet my friend Hans at the airport when he arrives. It’s a two-hour drive, and I promised to pick him up.
“Am I keeping you from something?” Her sharp comment makes me cringe internally.
“Of course not, Auntie.”
“Come now, I know you don’t spend all day waiting on me. What do you have planned?” She smiles as if she knows this is the expected expression when making small talk with your nephew. Other heads of state reportedly find the duchess charming, but the terrified little boy in my head doesn’t see it.
“I’m driving to München, to pick up my friend. His flight arrives at one forty-five.”
She glances at the clock tower visible over the wall—the huge dial reads eleven thirty. “He will need at least half an hour to clear customs. You have plenty of time. This won’t take long.” She grips my arm again and leads me to the small bench set under an arch of grape vines. “Sit.”
“Yes, Madame.” She doesn’t demur at the traditional address, so I chalk that up as a win in my internal game of Behaviors that Please or Annoy the Grand Duchess and take a seat.
“I need you to do some… let’s call it data collection. You’re young, attractive, well liked.” She raises a perfectly manicured brow. “You are well liked, aren’t you?”
“I suppose.” To be fair, it’s hard to tell. Everyone in Freiberg knows I’m part of the royal family, so most of them at least pretend to like me—except my cousin Eduard, the Hereditary Grand Duke and heir to the throne. I’m an introvert. I don’t like big parties and huge groups. Eduard is the social one. But I have a few close friends and a larger group of pleasant acquaintances.
“And you travel in the same circles as Eduard.” She doesn’t give me a chance to debate. Eduard and I went to school together, but we’ve never really been friends. He is too aware of his great social status and likes to remind me whenever possible that I’m five rungs beneath him on the ladder of succession. I don’t really care—I have no interest in being the head of state. In fact, I’ve taken great pains to stay under the radar of royalty-watchers everywhere.
Thanks to my parents’ even greater care, few people in Oregon know we’re related to the royal family, much less in line for the throne. Of course, Freiberg is a tiny city-state—not big enough to draw much attention. Most Americans only know about the Windsors… and maybe the Grimaldis in Monaco, thanks to Grace Kelly.
“You’ve seen the headlines about Eduard. ‘The would-be playboy.’” Her jaw clenches. Knowing my aunt, she’s more upset at the implication he is unsuccessful as a playboy than at the idea that he might be playing the field. Any insult to the heir, no matter how veiled, is an insult to the throne. “My advisors tell me what I want to hear—I want your ‘boots on the ground’ report.”
My jaw drops. I snap it shut. “You want me to sp—I’m not sure I’m the best person for this job. I don’t usually socialize with Eduard’s friends.” In an effort to keep her anger directed at the paparazzi rather than myself, I try to imply that’s a blow to my ego rather than a conscious choice. “You should talk to Andela.”
She pats my arm, in a way that would be maternal if her eyes weren’t burning into mine like a falcon targeting its prey. “You are perfect. In fact, your friend coming to visit makes you even more perfect. The two of you can gad about town, meeting other young people, hearing the gossip?—”
I’ve never “gadded” anywhere, but I don’t tell her that. “I think my sister would be better—” I break off, my stomach curdling as I realize I just interrupted the Grand Duchess. She’ll probably have me shipped off to the diamond mines in Africa. Not that she has any diamond mines. She’d have to call in a favor from one of her jeweler friends up in the Netherlands, and I’d be gone.
I suspect she could make it happen.
“You’ve been in America too long.” She pinches my arm, hard. “I’ll excuse your deplorable behavior this one time. There are reasons I have chosen you, not Andela, for this assignment. I have plans for Eduard. You will find out with whom Eduard is consorting, and if there is anyone about whom he might imagine he could be serious. And you will report directly to me. I expect your first report in two weeks. Do not whisper a word to anyone else, even your American friend.” She rises, and I hurriedly jump to my feet. “Especially your American friend. That is all.” She sails away, disappearing through the door at the end of the garden.
I rub my arm which still stings where she pinched it, staring after her. She didn’t wait for me to escort her into the sitting room, which I guess means I should exit through the throne room. Fine by me. I don’t need another encounter with the Grand Duchess.
I speedwalk through the elegant rooms of the palace, exiting through the sunroom at the rear. Across the broad lawn, Rosenhäuschen stands beyond a copse of beech trees. It’s called “Rose Cottage,” but with four floors and a dozen bedrooms, the neoclassical house is hardly a cottage. Ignoring the formal parlors and gathering spaces, I lope across the vaulted lobby and up the stairs to my bedroom on the third floor.
My mother, Inge, is the Grand Duchess’s youngest sister. When she married Randolph Feltz, a local business owner, her father claimed she’d be removed from the succession, but that never officially happened. So technically, we’re all still in line for the throne. Rosenhäuschen is our official family residence, but my siblings and I grew up in the house our father inherited from his family in Freiberg proper. Now that we kids are more or less out of the nest, we use Rosenhäuschen as a kind of royal flop house.
I got that term from Hans, of course. I’d never dare to call it a flop house to my family, even if it’s basically true.
