A Princess for Hire Book

by Lindsey Leavitt

  “What, no. I’m fabulous.” I jabbed Meredith with my manual. “I just love profiles that tell me to sleep with one eye open. Cozies me up like a nice security blanket.”

  “You’re worried?” she asked, although her voice really said, I can’t believe you’re worried or complaining. Which, actually, is always what her voice sounded like. “You have nothing to worry about. She’s just being funny.”

  “About death.”

  “Death. Please. Genevieve obviously doesn’t think you need any more preparation. This job will be your chance to prove your worth, ensuring you’re Matched to a very desirable royal.”

  “Wow. I feel much better about the whole I’m-going-to-die thing.” I gave Meredith an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Why don’t you drop me off right now?”

  “About that.” Meredith braced herself against the doorway as her bubble landed. I pitched forward, but caught myself on her arm.

  “We’re here,” I said.

  “Maybe not the here you think. We’re at Façade. You’re not going to your next job in my bubble. You’re going in yours.”

  “But I don’t have a bubble.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Your deductive reasoning really astounds me.”

  “You mean…I get my own bubble?”

  Meredith led me out of the entryway and into the Façade lobby. “Yes. Welcome to Level Three.”

  Meredith glanced down at her manual. “I have a quick errand to run. Why don’t you wait here in the lobby and I’ll pick up your bubble on my way back. You still have a half hour until you need to be on your job.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll be here.” I considered wandering back to the sub-sanitation room, but that field trip might have been a one-shot trip, and I needed more of a plan first. Maybe I could learn something useful from the royal relics littering the lobby. At least take some time to strategize for my next assignment. Or run away from it.

  The grandeur and sheer size of the room still astounded me, largely because Façade was housed inside the Tour Montparnasse in Paris, one of the few modern skyscrapers in the city. From the outside, you would have no clue that something like Façade could fit in here—and for good reason. Façade was far bigger than the “floor” it took up in the building. The explanation was the same they used for nearly everything: magic!

  There wasn’t a museum in the world that had a more extensive collection of royal memorabilia. Swords from long-lost battles, thrones from fallen empires. And my favorite—the tiara wall. Yeah, sorry. I still wanted a tiara.

  I would research the other items in a minute. I had a mission, after all. But for now, the shiny sparkles and jewels called to me. I pushed my face against the glass.

  “Miss Bascomb?”

  I didn’t move. “Yeah?”

  “May I help you with something? Would you like to try one on?”

  I suctioned myself off and spun around. Ferdinand, the receptionist, sat at the front desk, smiling kindly. I’d never really spoken to him, just some quick pleasantries whenever I zipped in and out of Façade. “Seriously? We can do that?”

  He jingled a set of keys. “For a Level Three? Certainly.”

  I put on Princess Grace’s first. Of course I did. Grace Kelly was one of my favorite actresses, who later married the Prince of Monaco. And to wear something she wore? Forget about it. The tiara was surprisingly light and thin. The comb caught in my hair when I took it off, and Ferdinand had to untwist it for me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I can’t believe they let us wear the tiaras. What if someone tries to take one?”

  “Façade has installed a tracking device on all the royal artifacts in this room. In fact, they have secretly installed the same device on most major royal heirlooms—crown jewels, priceless art, thrones, ancient weaponry. It’s all itemized in our system—you can log on right now and see where Princess Kate’s sapphire ring is, and by extension Princess Kate, since she’s probably wearing it.” He winked. “It’s a fun application to fiddle with when things are slow here. The royals have no clue how much we know.”

  “But aren’t you worried about a sub stealing something?”

  “That’s part of why we do the trace. Invented the program after a notorious former employee turned into a jewel thief.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about her,” I grumbled, annoyed that the one bad seed was always used as an example of what could go wrong.

  “Do you want to try on any others?” Ferdinand asked.

  “No. I’m good.” I gazed up at the tiaras. Part of me wanted to try on every one of them, but I needed to use my alone time to get some answers. Maybe Ferdinand would know something about the sub-sanitation room. “Hey, Ferdinand, how long have you worked at Façade?”

  “Sixty-five years.”

  “For real? How old are you? Wait, sorry, that’s rude. Don’t answer that. I mean, unless you want—”

  “I am eighty-two. I began working for Façade at seventeen.”

  “So, did you sub?”

  “For a short amount of time, yes.”

  “Oh. And then…”

  “And then I moved around departments until I finally settled at the front desk. I’ve been happy here—I have the opportunity to meet many employees on their very first day.”

  “So you’ve, like, seen everything, huh?” I asked.

  Ferdinand set Princess Grace’s crown back on the purple velvet pillow. “Not everything. Just the beginnings of everything.”

  It’s funny, because here I was scrambling around trying to think of an ally, when I already knew, or at least kind of knew, someone at Façade who knew everyone. “Ferdinand, did I mention how nice you look today?”

  “No. But I look very much the same every day, Miss Bascomb.” Ferdinand locked the door to the tiara case and hobbled back to his desk. He was so venerable and ancient, as much a part of Façade’s history as the relics surrounding him. “I’m not a dinner roll,” he said, once he was back behind his desk and had a chance to catch his breath, “so care to tell me why you are buttering me up?”

  I leaned on the high counter. “I just never get a chance to talk to someone who has worked here so long. You must have crazy stories.”

  “I’m also excellent at staying quiet.”

  “Stories are meant to be shared. Unless they’re secret stories?”

  “Again, quiet.”

  “Okay, but there has to be one story that is too good to keep to yourself. Something that’s been boiling in you forever.”

  Ferdinand shook his head.

  “Really?” I asked. “Nothing? Not even gossip. Or maybe some little-known background or history or…something no one else knows?”

  “I can give you a tour of the displays. But something tells me that’s not what you’re asking.”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s refreshing to chat, since most subs just bounce by my desk. However, I do have other duties. So I hope you’ll afford me enough respect to tell me what exactly it is you want?”

  What did I want? I could write a list longer than the copy of the Magna Carta they had over in the case. Oh. Unless that was the Magna Carta.

  “I don’t know, Ferdinand. There is just so much to figure out here, it’s like the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know anything at all.”

  “That’s called wisdom.”

  “Yeah, well, then wisdom stinks.” When I first started working here, this place was still amazing and perfect. Subbing was the dream job I didn’t even know existed. Now, only a few months had passed, and already I had a whole different point of view. I wondered what kind of shifts Ferdinand had witnessed in his sixty-plus years here. “Right. So I do have a question. This place, it’s magical, right? And the job—the best. But if you could change anything about the agency, what would it be and why?”

  Ferdinand drummed his fingers on his desk. “No one has ever asked me that. Usually, the only question I get is which way to the bathroom.”

  “Look at
all the wisdom those people are missing.”

  “More buttering, hmmm?” He scratched his chin. “Very well. I’ll play along. You know what I’ve always wondered? Why isn’t there a division that specializes in global diplomacy, international peace treaties, war negotiations? We have access to more than half of the countries in this world, and we have never brought them together. There might be some secret sector I know nothing about. But all that money put into makeup?” Ferdinand shrugged. “Makeup isn’t life altering. I would wager to guess Façade could create world peace if they tried.”

  I nearly leaned over the desk and kissed Ferdinand on the cheek. Finally, someone who understood! “Exactly! Ferdinand, think of how much possibility is in this room.”

  “Not possibility, just the past—battles, forgotten kingdoms, greed. All by-products of power.” Ferdinand clicked onto his computer and read through something on the screen. “Here’s one bit of advice. At a place like this, don’t be a chief. It’s best to stay out of the way, keep your head down, and do your job.”

  “But—”

  He glanced up at me, his eyes twinkling. “That way no one suspects it’s you when something happens.”

  I widened my eyes. Did Ferdinand have any idea what I really was asking? Did I even know what I asking, what I hoped to accomplish? “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

  “And now, Miss Bascomb, I’ve quite enjoyed our talk, but I must return to my duties and you to yours. Best of luck subbing for Princess Vanna.”

  “Princess Vanna? How do you know who I’m subbing for?” I asked.

  He peered up at me. “Because I do.”

  Could I adopt him? Is that possible? Hide Ferdinand in the guest bedroom and feed him peanut butter sandwiches while we devise a grand scheme to equalize Façade? Is there a non-psycho way to ask him that?

  I didn’t have time to find out, because Meredith bustled into the lobby. “Ready?”

  “Sure. Thanks, Ferdinand. Keep it real.”

  “I shall try.”

  Ferdinand confirmed that not everyone here was drinking the crazy punch. Some people saw flaws, and maybe he was also trying to make changes, in his own quiet way. Maybe change wasn’t as impossible as I’d thought.

  Meredith wordlessly pointed her remote at a space between the reception desk and the sitting area. Ferdinand didn’t even blink when a sunny yellow bubble dripped into the air. I involuntarily took a step toward the cute little orb of wonder—I couldn’t explain how, but I knew this belonged to me.

  “Go on. Take a look,” Meredith said.

  I’d been inside Meredith’s luxurious office/bubble and two rickety emergency bubbles. This was somewhere in between. Although not fancy, there was a calm cheerfulness about the space, inspired mostly by the funky daisy rug. Pushed under the control panel was a red faux-fur-lined swivel chair, and on the wall was a movie poster of Audrey Hepburn, the one from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It’s like someone jumped into my brain, took notes, and then Desied the place up.

  “I am in love.” I placed my hand over my heart. I had my own bubble. I still wouldn’t be able to drive a car for over a year. But I could go anywhere in the world in this thing. I sat down in the chair and twirled. “I have my own bubbblllllle!!!”

  Meredith grabbed the sides of the chair and looked me in the eye. “This is a company bubble. You don’t own it. You’re only allowed to use it for work purposes.”

  “What if I need to research castles? Can I go to Buckingham Palace?”

  Meredith shrugged. “Sure. If you get your homework done first.”

  “I’ll have the queen help me with my algebra.” I ran my hands over the panel screen. The words destination: kamigano was already inputted. Just type in a location and I could go there. This was magical.

  Oh. This was magical.

  I drew my hands away like they’d been burned. “How does this bubble move?”

  “It’s obviously our economy-size model, so not as quickly as mine, but far smoother than an emergency clunker—”

  “No, I mean…” I lowered my voice. “Is this bubble run by magic?”

  “No, we have an antigravitational chamber in here. Of course it’s magic.”

  “Stolen?”

  “How would I know? Magic is accessed from many sources, you know. This one might be juiced by a cuddly kitten.”

  “If they can just use kittens, then why mess with people—”

  “Façade does not mess with people. And people happen to be a hundred times more magical than anything else. So stop asking about that. It’s a brick wall, darling.”

  I ran my hand along the adorable chair. Okay, so I had to use the bubble to get to this job. And this job was somehow going to teach me more about subbing or myself or this agency. And once I learned…whatever it was I was going to learn, then I could go back to Façade and…uh…better mankind. So using this bubble now was just a means to an end. I’d make up for it later. Besides, the fur on the chair was really soft.

  Meredith leaned down and air-kissed my cheeks. “Make sure you put on your rouge. When you’re done, type in home and the bubble will know where to go. Hit the bubble button on your manual and it will suck back in. I’ll be in touch with information about your Match when we have it. Now, I have to get back for my first meeting on the council. Are you ready for this job?”

  Even the beauty of the bubble couldn’t erase the horror of the BEST requirements or the fear of my impending gig. Could I fake a stomachache? Send another girl while I hung out in my bubble, maybe twirl around in the chair more? “This place I’m going now. Meredith, am I really going to be okay?”

  “You have your manual for emergencies. You have your bubble for catastrophes. And, Desi, you have your magic.”

  I didn’t feel completely assured, but I opted to go through with it, my drive to figure out the inner workings of Façade stronger than my fear. The bubble rose the moment Meredith stepped out, tilting me back in my seat. It was true, the ride wasn’t as seamless as Meredith’s, but not nearly as jarring as emergency bubbles. There was a constant, airplanelike hum.

  I used my time to master stealth. Which means I tried to catch the fly that had somehow buzzed into my vehicle. But then it accidentally flew through the permeable part of the bubble wall. I hoped he liked his new home over Russia, or wherever we were.

  “Please ensure that you are properly fastened,” said a chipper electronic voice. “We’re beginning our initial descent.” Five minutes later, the bubble sank to the ground. “Thank you for flying with me, Desi. I look forward to transporting you upon completion of your job.”

  “Thanks?” I said out loud. Was I supposed to talk back to my bubble? Should I name her. I was thinking Daisy. She looked like a Daisy.

  “Please exit, Desi.”

  “Okay, Daisy.”

  “I thought your name is Desi.”

  Hey! She really was talking directly to me; she wasn’t just programmed. “I am Desi. But I just decided that you should be called Daisy. Daisy, the bubble.”

  The bubble didn’t answer. She was probably too overjoyed to speak.

  “Well, ta-ta, darling!” I made a grand bow before taking a step backward, hoping I’d at least have a chance to get my bearings before the royal ninjas attacked.

  The view in front of me was so acutely beautiful, it felt like I was in a perfectly staged movie scene. The royal fountain was like something out of The King and I, with blazing red trees dripping leaves into the water. Koi fish glittered under the surface, and crickets chirped behind me. Lacy gray flowers kissed the cool air with sage. Through a break in the grove, I could just make out the castle, but not the kind you see at Disneyland. The architectural Asian wonder had a jade-green roof sloping upward on each of the castle’s many, many tiers. I hoped Vanna’s vacation was a long one. I could use a little tranquility.

  Well, as tranquil as I could be, with instructions like “stay alive” on the profile.

  I sat on a stone bench in the palace gardens while I wa
ited for the Royal Rouge to literally work its magic. One quick swipe from my gold compact resulted in a transformation about fifteen minutes later, and it was always fascinating taking on the new princess’s identity.

  Vanna’s arms and calves were fiercely sculpted. I was always me when I took on these forms—meaning I had my own mind, own clumsiness, own free will—but I couldn’t help but feel tougher in this athletic build. I wanted to drop and do fifty push-ups, just to prove I could, although it would not be very ladylike in the stiff pencil skirt and silk suit jacket Vanna wore. Not the everyday wardrobe of a sixteen-year-old.

  Someone called Vanna’s name. I wasn’t sure if I should respond or run, if the caller was Vanna’s friend or foe. Surely she had bodyguards, right? I cleared my throat and let out a feeble “Here?”

  Moments later, a woman burst into the peaceful courtyard. Her graying hair flew out of her bun. She wore a tailored suit similar to mine. “Princess Vanna!” She bowed. She did not look at me as she spoke. “You must stop doing this to us. We are simply trying to do our job, which is protecting you.”

  “Protecting me from what?” I asked.

  She pulled out a walkie-talkie. “This is Janin. The tiger has been spotted. I repeat, the tiger is spotted. Over.”

  My heart skipped a beat for a second, until I realized that I must be the tiger. Hey, you never know what kind of pets these royals keep.

  “Princess Vanna, there is no room in your schedule for disappearing acts. I know that meet and greet was insufferable, but you can’t just flee to the gardens.”

  “Sorry, Janin,” I said.

  “You have approximately fifteen minutes to change into your training clothing and meet your instructor in the gymnasium. And be forewarned—she’s very determined for you to land that back-handspring combination before the documentary film crew comes this evening.”

  I’d found that the best way to learn what was on the princess’s schedule was to pretend that she forgot. The technique usually led to exasperation, but at least I got answers. “Film crew. Um, that’s tonight?”