Royal Holiday

by McKenna James

  “Nah, I’m naturally sculpted.”

  “Sure, sure,” she hummed. “Endowed with naturally good looks. Mere mortals tremble before you.”

  “You think I’m good looking?”

  Marina smiled into the kiss she gave me. “Incredibly.”

  Just as I was about to deepen the kiss, I heard the little brass bell above the front door to Oliver’s shop jingle. I normally wouldn’t care. This wouldn’t be the first time Oliver had people browsing around his collection for something to buy. As long as Marina and I stayed hidden in his work studio, our secret would be safe. We’d be perfectly fine so long as we didn’t make a sound.

  But today, something was off. I could hear two voices out front. One belonged to Oliver, his charismatic charm and distinguished lilt making it easy to identify. The other voice sounded familiar too, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

  “Brandon, what a pleasant surprise,” said Oliver. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

  Marina froze against me. We exchanged a concerned glance.

  “I know, I’m sorry. I should have called.”

  “No, no, that’s perfectly fine,” continued Oliver. “Were you running errands?”

  “Yes. I was in the area, so I thought I’d pop by.”

  “You’re so cute. Actually, did you want to grab a bite to eat? I’ve been cooped up in here all morning.”

  “I could do lunch. You have to promise to let me pay this time, though. I already owe you for two dinners.”

  “Oh, stop that. You know how much I like spoiling you. Let me just grab my coat.”

  “Okay.”

  “Um… Can you stay here?”

  “Uh, sure. Why?”

  “Oh, it’s just a huge mess in the back. I’ve got everything just so.”

  “I promise not to jump your bones again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Oliver laughed, sounding the slightest bit nervous. “That’s not it. You’re always welcome to do that. I’m just serious about it being a mess back there.”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll wait–”

  Marina stifled a sneeze into the corner of her elbow. The look of terror that plastered itself on her face did a fairly good job of reflecting my own fears. If we were caught together like this, there was really no telling what would happen. I hadn’t had the fortune of running into Brandon again since the parliamentary cocktail party, but I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. He’d been pissed at me then, protective of Marina even before we got together. If Brandon discovered that we’d been meeting in secret for almost a month, I could only imagine the shitshow that would arise because of it.

  “Is somebody here?” he asked Oliver, suspicion dripping off of every word.

  Oliver chuckled anxiously. “Just the model I’ve been working with. I had him in for a fitting.”

  “Oh,” said Brandon, sounding the slightest bit peeved.

  “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “What? No,” he said way too quickly.

  “I’ll tell him to take the rest of the day. Be right back, alright?”

  Marina quickly hopped off my lap and helped me up, standing before me and the door just in case Brandon happened to follow Oliver down the hall. Luckily, Oliver was the only one to pop his head through the crack in the studio workshop’s doorframe. He pointed directly at me and then jerked his thumb in the direction of the back exit. I nodded, scooping Marina’s hand up in mine as we both made haste.

  We didn’t make it very far down the back alley before one of Marina’s security detail spotted her. He’d been stationed at the end of the alley to make sure no one could sneak their way in. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn’t sneak my way out.

  “Princess Marina?” he called, squinting against the noonday sun.

  With more strength than I realized she had, Marina shoved me behind a large stack of cardboard boxes, hiding me from sight.

  “Uh, yes. Hello,” she mumbled awkwardly. She stepped forward quickly so the guard didn’t have to approach and accidentally discover me.

  “What are you doing out here, Princess?”

  “I just wanted a bit of fresh air.” Marina stretched her arms above her head and made a show of yawning. “It was getting a bit stuffy in there.”

  “I can send someone to fetch a fan for you.”

  “Oh, no that’s okay.”

  “Shall I escort you home, then?”

  Marina paused. I looked to her, but her eyes were glued to the pavement before her feet. I didn’t want to see her go. Not this early, at least. Every fiber in my body screamed at me to move, to pull her into one last embrace before she was inevitably whisked away.

  But I couldn’t. If her bodyguard discovered me, realized who I was, it’d be all over for us.

  “Okay,” she said quietly. “Let’s head back.”

  Defeated, I could do nothing else except watch her walk away. Every retreating footstep tugged at my heart. I didn’t know how much more of this sneaking around I could take. I was really starting to feel like a dirty little secret.

  And I didn’t like it at all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Marina

  I didn’t think I’d ever be one of those girls. I was sitting on a pile of soft cushions in the corner of my private library, a stack of books sitting just to my right. But my mind wasn’t on the words. I didn’t care what the authors had to say, or what sorts of adventures my protagonists found themselves on.

  All I could think about was him.

  Rodrigo.

  Sweet, darling, charming Rodrigo. Rodrigo who made laughing easier than breathing. Rodrigo with his beautiful blue eyes that made me want to squeal in delight every time he looked at me. Rodrigo and his big, strong hands and sturdy arms that made me feel safe. Rodrigo with his deep voice that rumbled right through me, made me completely enraptured with the sound of his words.

  We hadn’t been able to spend the night together since that early Christmas morning. I didn’t mind, though. I was perfectly happy with kissing and hugging and talking. Rodrigo and I could talk for literal hours, and I would never get bored. He always had something interesting to say. Whether we were reminiscing about childhood memories, or if he was telling me about Allendes and his travels—I just couldn’t get enough. I drank up everything he had to say and still felt inexplicably thirsty for more.

  We hadn’t spoken to each other in over twenty-four hours, but I was already going crazy. I wanted to know what he was doing, what he was wearing, what delicious foods he was eating. I wanted to know if he was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him. Did he miss me as much as I did him? Did he feel as bad as I did that we had to part ways so suddenly yesterday afternoon?

  I really didn’t want to go, but my bodyguard was standing right there. Had he taken another step forward, if that pile of boxes hadn’t been in the way for Rodrigo to hide behind, what would have happened? What sort of panic and chaos could have swept through the palace upon learning that the Princess, the heir to the throne, was having an affair with the son of an enemy?

  Father would probably have Rodrigo thrown in jail. Father had no discernable cause, but given his team of advisors, I was sure he’d find one. Maybe even make one up if he really wanted to. He was the King, after all. His word was law. And if Father wanted Rodrigo imprisoned for so much as looking at me, it could happen.

  Mother would never let me hear the end of it, that was for sure. She’d probably talk my ear off and go on and on about how seeing Rodrigo was a blatant attack on the throne. She’d probably try to convince me to look at all the other suitors I had waiting in line for my hand in marriage. Mother hadn’t exactly been shy before about hiring a matchmaker to set me up with a foreign prince. She’d find a way to talk down to Rodrigo, point out and highlight every single one of his flaws until I could no longer ignore them.

  I sighed and tucked my knees close to my chest, my books completely forgotten.

 
; This was all so complicated.

  But it didn’t have to be. If only I hadn’t been born the Princess. If only Father and Senator Sabatino were on better terms. If only Rodrigo and I could be together without worry about optics or allegiances or status differences.

  Maybe, in another life, I could be born a commoner and enjoy all the freedoms that would bring. I could do what I wanted—slouch at the dinner table, speak as loudly as I wanted, dress in a mishmash of colors and patterns because I didn’t care what the gossip magazines would say about my fashion sense. If I were a commoner, I could travel anywhere in the world. I’d explore the far corners of the globe—from the highest mountains, to the deepest, thickest parts of the jungle.

  I could love who I wanted.

  That was when I realized just how far gone I was. Rodrigo and I had only been seeing each other for a little over a month, but I’d fallen so hard and so fast that there was no way for me to stop.

  Everything about him made me so unbelievably happy. His smile made me smile, his laugh made me laugh. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy whenever I was around him, fluttering about like they were about to explode.

  I didn’t care who Rodrigo was. I didn’t care that his father was trying to oust mine. In the grand scheme of things, did I even really want to wear the crown? I supposed every little girl in the world secretly wished they could be a princess, grow up surrounded by the lavish things. But I was the exact opposite. I wanted to be normal, an average citizen. That crown that I’d one day wear would one day be a shackle, keeping me from the things that I truly wanted. Being the future Queen of Brooklandia was as much a privilege as it was a burden. I’d one day be chained down by obligation.

  Surely that was no way to live.

  Perhaps that was why I enjoyed being with Rodrigo so much. Even when we were children, he rarely treated me like a Princess. He treated me like any other kid, any other friend. Through the eyes of a kid, status meant nothing. It was for this reason that I considered Rodrigo one of my first, truest friends.

  Maybe that was why I adored him so much. He reminded me of simpler times. When I was with him, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. The concerns of my people that weighed down on my shoulders, the impending war on our norther borders—I could forget everything when I was with him.

  But how long could this all last? We were almost caught yesterday. And I was sure my excuse of working with Oliver on another charitable cause was starting to grow old and tired. I didn’t exactly have anything to show for it. If someone asked me what we were working on, I’d likely freeze and stumble over my answers—a surefire way of exposing my relationship with Rodrigo.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, anxious.

  How long were we going to be able to keep this up? Someone was going to find out about us, whether Rodrigo and I came out publicly or if someone oversaw us together. There was really no way for me to tell, but the end result was inevitable. In all cases, this sneaking around for quick make-out sessions and mini-dates at Oliver’s had to end.

  Option A: Rodrigo and I could reveal our relationship together in a controlled manner. We wouldn’t be able to control the reaction that came after, but we’d at least be able to keep our story straight and keep people from speculating.

  Option B: Someone could see us together and expose us before we were ready. I really didn’t like this option. Not only would it put the Royal Family on the spot, Rodrigo’s reputation could be at stake. He mentioned how he wanted to go off and study to become a lawyer. What if he was the gossip of the university? What if his future clients didn’t trust his discretion? I couldn’t bear to see that happen to Rodrigo.

  There was, however, a third scenario. It left a bitter taste over my tongue, left my guts tying themselves up in preemptive knots.

  Option C: We could break up.

  I sighed and nervously picked at the fabric of my jeans.

  I remembered how crushed I was when I thought my white knight stood me up at the Christmas party. The disappointment and embarrassment had my insides burning. That was when I didn’t know Rodrigo’s true identity. Now that I knew, now that I finally had him back in my life, how could I possibly lose him again?

  I’d be devastated.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I grumbled to myself quietly, “Crap. Crap, crap, crap.”

  All three options wouldn’t end well. There was no way it could. Best case scenario, Rodrigo and I come clean to our parents. Father would inevitably freak out, Senator Sabatino would probably start yelling his head off, Mother would tell me that I was crazy for following my heart, and Mrs. Sabatino would probably have a cow.

  Worst case scenario, everybody would get hurt.

  Rodrigo would get hurt.

  I didn’t want that to happen. I needed to figure things out before it was too late.

  Out in the hall, I heard a clamor of voices. They sounded panicked, hurried. Their worried cries were then followed by a loud stampede of echoing shoe clicks against the hallway’s polished tile floors.

  “Has anyone seen the Princess?” Brandon asked.

  Any other day, I would have remained silent and kept to myself in my library. Everybody everywhere needed me, so I got very used to determining what I needed to react to and what I didn’t. There was something in his voice that irked me, though. There was so much urgency and fear that it sent a sharp chill crawling through my veins.

  I rose from my mountain of throw pillows and made my way to the door, poking my head around the frame.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Brandon quickly grabbed me by the hand. I almost recoiled in surprise. The only person who I wanted holding my hand wasn’t currently here.

  “We need to get you to safety,” he said, tripping over his own tongue.

  It was then that I noticed the trickle of blood dripping down from his forehead, down his cheek. His eye was red and swelling, the early signs of a terrible bruise. Someone had cracked Brandon’s lip, likely thanks to a well-placed blow to the face. His knuckles were red and speckled with dried blood.

  A wet, sticky lump lodged itself in my throat. “What’s happened?”

  “His Majesty the King, he–”

  Goose bumps spread across my arms and up the back of my neck like vicious wildfire. “What’s happened to my father?”

  “There’s no time to explain, Marina. Quickly, you have to–”

  A massive, eardrum-shattering explosion rocked the palace. The violent crack of descending rumble and the sharp crunch of fracturing glass made my ears ring. My heart was beating so quickly in my chest that it could have fooled machines into believing that I was flatlining.

  Brandon tugged my hand hard, forced me to follow. My legs felt like jelly, so it was a miracle he managed to drag me anywhere at all.

  “It’s a coup,” he shouted at me as the angry roar of voices echoed against the hallway walls. Behind me, the sound of a marching mob grew in volume. Voices belonging to at least a hundred men and women filled the palace with their angry, coordinated chanting.

  “A coup?” I repeated in horrid disbelief.

  “This way!” he declared, pulling me into a room.

  The room was mostly vacant, unfurnished. It served no real purpose in terms of defense. The flimsy lock on the door wouldn’t be able to hold out against a group of angry, very pissed revolutionaries. To the untrained eye, this room was a dead end.

  In reality, it was a hub.

  This room served as a central convergence point for all of the secret passages scattered about the palace. There was a hidden door behind the large bookshelf against the southmost wall. To the north was a large framed painting, which once again hid a secret entrance. There was another hatch beneath the shag rug beneath our feet that led to the palace’s winding basement. A section of the east-facing wall could actually be pried open to gain access to the escape tunnel, which would lead me directly to the concrete bunker located beneath the royal gardens.

&nbs
p; Brandon shifted the wall, pressing on it with a hard shove before sliding it open.

  “Get going, Marina. The Queen is already in the bunker.”

  “And Father?”

  He shook his head, face so pale I thought he was on the brink of passing out. “Last I heard, he was injured by Senator Sabatino.”

  My heart severed its connection to my aorta and then jumped into the pit of my stomach. “Injured?” I whispered, squeaky and shaking uncontrollably.

  “The Royal Guards have already apprehended the Senator, but I don’t know about the King’s condition. Please, Princess, you have to get going. There’s still a mob on the loose.”

  Dizzy and sick as I was, I managed a curt nod. Brandon was right. If I stayed here any longer, I’d be caught. If they were willing to use explosives, force their way into the palace, hurt their King, they’d probably have no qualms about harming me or those who stood in their way. Even though my brain was wracked with worry for my parents, I needed to focus on saving myself first.

  “Come with me,” I pleaded.

  Brandon gave me a good shove over the threshold, shaking his head. “I can slow them down. You have to get out of here.”

  “Brandon, please–”

  He pulled the wall closed in a hurry, cutting me off. “Get going!” he shouted at me, voice muffled by the thick wall between us.

  Too nervous and antsy to argue any longer, I did as I was told.

  My advance through the dark, narrow passageway was slow. I had to feel around with my hands outstretched to get a sense of my surroundings. When I was a little girl, I used this exact network of tunnels and tight halls to make my way around. Whenever I wanted to bail on my tutor, or whenever I wanted to play hide and seek with Rodrigo, I’d use these secret paths to my advantage.

  Rodrigo.

  His father hurt mine. I always knew Senator Sabatino to be an outspoken, passionate man. The guy was born to be in politics. He was confident, well-spoken, and had the ability to drive morale in a way Father never could. I didn’t use to think badly of Senator Sabatino, even when his views started to change and he slowly began to resist and resent my father. The world of politics was ever-changing, always shifting like thin ice over a large lake. Currents dictated the way politicians carried themselves, at times more cautious than others.