POV: Leopold
I shoved open the thick wooden doors of my father's office without knocking. My steel toed boots tracked mud on the Persian carpet. "What the hell did you do?"
There were two other men inside with him.
Remi jumped to his feet as I stormed into the room. Then as recognition hit, our head of security bowed his head.
My brother, opposite him, moved to stand as well.
I flashed him a glare, holding my hand out in a silent warning. Or a plea, maybe.
"Leopold," the King said. "Please, join us."
His voice was calm and smooth, as always. A stark contrast to the furry I was barely keeping contained.
I ground my teeth. "I'm in no mood for niceties, father. You know why I'm here."
My father sighed, leaning back in his cracked leather chair. "If this is about the girl, the decision is final. She arrives this afternoon."
My hands balled into fists. "I told you I don't want her here."
"And I told you I would consider your opinion if you managed to get through the week without making headlines," my father reasoned.
"Is this because of what I did at the Christopher Day Parade?"
The silence that filled the room was answered enough.
"They need someone walking with them. Not someone to give a speech on their behalf." I looked to Hector for support, but my brother's only reply was a slight shake of his head.
Not now. Don't make a fuss. Remain neutral...fuck that.
"That's not for you to decide, Leopold," my father said. "You are representing this family. The country. There are laws-"
"Which are archaic," I growled. "Just like this treaty with the girl. You're putting her life at risk by bringing her here."
"My team is prepared to care for her," Remi said.
"It's not her bodily protection I'm concerned for," I snapped.
"No one is asking you anything more than to be kind to her," Hector said, in the same calm tone of my father.
I ran a hand through my hair and swore. "No, you don't need to ask. That's already taken care of, isn't it?"
POV: CAT
"Can't we at least look around a little?" I asked irritably. "I mean I didn't get to see any part of Paris except for the airport."
Mr. Arsenault and I had been on the move for twelve hours now. After my walk of shame and vomiting on Luce's house plant, I'd slept off my hangover, called my mom, googled the shit out of Royal Family of Solis, and packed my bags. Now, we were in the third country in twelve hours.
"Sorry Mademoiselle," said M. Arsenault, "but we have to make our helicopter connection."
"Helicopter?" I demanded, stopping dead in the middle of the airport we were currently in.
"Mademoiselle, I know you are tired but our voyage is almost complete. We simply need to reach our gate and then we will helicopter to the palace."
"I-I thought we would be taking another plane," I stuttered. We were in the middle of a busy terminal. Groups of people were circling around us.
Mr. Arsenault took my bag from my shoulder. Probably hoping I'd be encouraged move a little faster without the extra weight. "We were, Mademoiselle. But I have been told we must change our plans. It is no longer possible to land at the Solis airport."
I crossed my arms over my chest, not budging. "Why not? It's not like an airport can go anywhere."
"Is something wrong, Mademoiselle?" Mr. Arsenault said. A dark eyebrow arched over the top of his sunglasses. "Are you afraid?"
I nodded once. "Terrified of heights."
"You were just in a plane," the guard said, perplexed. "A helicopter is no different."
"They are completely different," I said, slightly hysterical.
In my defense, I'd just been on a plane for the first time that morning. My mom and I weren't able to afford to travel when I was growing up.
Plus, I was very afraid of heights.
"I can't do it," I told him, holding my hand out for my bag. "You're gonna have to leave me here."
He pursed his lips and then sighed heavily. "Allow me to make some calls, Mademoiselle. I will see what I can do."
Pleased enough with his answers, I followed M. Arsenault to a small café. He ordered coffee and some sort of tiny pastry, then led me to one of the tables towards the edge of the space.
I kicked my backpack under my chair, watching as he stepped a few meters away to make his calls. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't like I was going to be able to understand his conversation anyway.
I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my hoodie and logged into the airport wifi. With a few taps, I was scrolling through Royal Family of Solis's Instagram account.
Last night, before I'd called Mr. Arsenault and agreed to go with him, Luce and I had searched the internet to figure out whatever we could about the Solis and the Royal Family.
Most of it was pretty standard. Wiki pages about the climate and exports of the country. Articles about its history that went back to the beginning of time. Some news articles about uncovered pirate treasure that we translated.
Normal. Mundane. Boring.
There was one thing though, that was very interesting.
I popped a corner of the pastry Mr. Arsenault bought into my mouth and clicked on a picture of the youngest member of the Royal Family of Solis, Prince Leopold.
Black wavy hair, olive skin, sharp cheekbones, strong jaw. He was stunning. In a cross-my-legs, instantly-soaking-wet, lick-my-lips, kind of way.
And he knew it too.
So did the rest of Europe, if the pictures of him caught drag racing, publicly intoxicated, and making out with girls in clubs were any indication.
I took a sip of the coffee and winced at the bitter taste.
The younger prince was pure, intoxicating danger.
"Finish up," Arsenault told me, coming back to the table.
I quickly pocketed my phone.
"I've arranged for another plane," the guard explained. "It's due to take off in five minutes."
I dumped about ten sugar packets in my coffee and downed the rest of the cup, even the dregs at the bottom.
"Great!" I chirped, hopping off the stool and grabbing my bag. "Let's ride."
I followed him through the terminal once again, until we came to an empty gate.
"Are we too late?" I asked as he stepped up to the check-in desk.
"No, Mademoiselle." He pulled a gold card from his pocket and showed it to the man behind the desk.
This wasn't the first time I'd seen it. Mr. Arsenault had been flashing the card since we'd arrived at the airport back home.
It had gotten us through security in the blink of an eye, even though I had no passport or ticket.
The airport guy looked briefly at the card, then quickly moved to pull the heavy steel door behind him open.
"Thanks," I said as I walked through the door behind Mr. Arsenault.
The second I was on the other side, I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart dropping.
I wasn't on a gangway to another plane. It was a metal staircase, going down to the ground.
"What's going on?" I asked. The metal door above me sealed shut.
"Ah, Mademoiselle, there is something I must admit to you," Mr. Arsenault said over his shoulder as he descended the shaking stairs. "I have not been truthful."
"Excuse me?" My feet hit the tarmac and my mouth fell open. There was no plane in sight. Only a huge black helicopter.
"What?" I shrieked, over the sound of the blades picking up.
"I know," he shouted back, "and I am very sorry Mademoiselle. But I swear on the crown of His Majesty King Bellamy IV that you will be safe."
Without waiting for me to answer, he took my bag off my shoulder, and strode towards the helicopter, waving at the pilot.
"Well, shit." Not seeing another option, I chased after him towards what I was sure would be an early death.
Under the metal beast the wind was strong. My hair whipped in every direction. I took Mr. Arsenault's outstretched hand and let him help me into the back seat.
He threw my bag up beside me, before sliding the door shut, and then climbed up beside the pilot.
The pilot began hitting buttons. I heard the blades begin to pick up. The helicopter vibrated beneath me. I closed my eyes tightly and pulled into a crash position, preparing for the worst. And then...
Nothing.
After a moment, I cracked an eye open.
Mr. Arsenault was looking at me over his shoulder. He tapped the side of a pair of headphones he was wearing, then pointed to the empty seat beside me.
Moving as little as possible, I grabbed the headset there and pulled it on.
Mr. Arsenault's voice crackled into my ears. "You should look out the window, Mademoiselle. You are missing some good sights as we make our approach."
"Approach?" I squeaked. "I thought you said it would be a short ride. Besides, I've already seen it on Google."
He ignored me. "We are coming up to Dumasville now. I really urge you to open your eyes, this is the first look you will get of your new home."
"Fine," I snapped and slowly unwound from my ball.
We were flying between two sparkling, white marble walls topped with green grass. Below us, there was aqua water, glassy in afternoon light from the sun.
"Wow," I said as the cliffs opened up to reveal a mass of land in front of us.
We were coming up to a small city with a strange layout. There was a river winding through the city, dividing it. On one side, the buildings were white, like the cliffs. On the other, metal and glass.
The helicopter tilted to the right, towards the white half of the city. At the highest peak, there was a large building, surrounded by a patch of green.
"Is that the castle?" I shouted over the headset.
"Yes," Mr. Arsenault said. "The Palace du Mer."
As we grew closer, the building grew more spectacular. I could pick out columns, and statues, and gilded windowsills. Orchards and sculpted garden beds. Then, beyond the perfectly green lawn, a gate, and a square that was filled with people.
"What's going on?" I asked, pointing at the crowd.
"They are waiting," Mr. Arsenault said.
"For what?"
"For you."
I didn't have much time to contemplate his words, because we were suddenly falling.
"Eek!" I cried curling into a ball again as we suddenly dropped towards the earth.
The ground was approaching far too quickly.
I closed my eyes tight, heart pounding fiercely in my chest.
"Mademoiselle, it is safe to open your eyes, we have landed."
I blinked my eyes open, and sure enough, we were on solid ground. We'd landed on the lawn, between the front gate and the crowd of people and the palace.
I pulled off my headphones, looking around.
We were close enough to the castle that the people would be able to see the helicopter, but not us. Unless they had a camera with a good lens...or a smartphone.
"Do you know how to curtsy, Mademoiselle?" asked M. Arsenault, grabbing my attention.
"Nope, but I can fake it."
I looked to the right now, towards the palace. I could make out a few figures on the top of the front steps.
"Is that them? Am I meeting the Royal Family now? With all these people watching." My palms began to sweat.
"Yes," Mr. Arsenault said simply and jumped down from the passenger's seat.
I looked down at my clothes. Suddenly uncomfortable in my leggings and Birkenstocks.
"A little heads up would have been nice," I muttered. The complaint was lost in the wind and my door was pulled open. A roar filled the small space. This time it wasn't from the helicopter blades. It was the crowd.
"Vive la Princess!" they chanted.
I looked over my shoulder to see as they pushed against the barriers. Flashbulbs popped, making me trip and stumble on the gravel path.
I caught up to Mr. Arsenault. "What's going on? What do they want?"
"You are their hope," he said simply.
And then there was no more time for words.
We'd arrived at the bottom of the front steps of the palace.
I squinted against the sun, at the five dark silhouettes at the top of the stairs.
Like gods meeting me on top of the Parthenon, the Royal Family of Solis was lined up beside each other on the glistening steps of the Palace du Mer, each as beautiful and intimidating as the next.
My eyes landed on the most beautiful of them all, Prince Leopold. I took in the hard set of his jaw and the tense line of his shoulders, and swallowed hard.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?