Royal Wedding Fiasco

by Renna Peak

  “I know, I know,” I say, my smile never faltering. “I just came by to apologize for my impatience before. I know you’re only trying to keep us safe.”

  The suspicion never leaves her face, but she steps aside. “Did you want to come in?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” I stride into the room, trying to look as if I don’t have a care in the world. Then I spin around and face her again. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. You didn’t have to help me, but you’re doing your best to do so. I only wanted to come by and tell you I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

  Her expression softens slightly. “Of course. I know how important it is for you to get home.”

  “So very important.” I allow my smile to fall. “Elle must be so worried about me. I didn’t even tell her where I was going—I wanted to surprise her by bringing her brother back in time for the wedding. If I’d have thought…” I shake my head. “I feel terrible. To think of her back home with our newborn son, with no idea of where I am or when I might return…” I don’t have to fake the emotion in my voice. It physically pains me to think of my family.

  And I can see that Miss Greene is eating it right up.

  “I can imagine how hard this is for you,” she says gently.

  “I’d do anything to be by their side again. Anything. It’s not my intention to put others at risk, but as for myself…I’d risk death to be back home right now. I’ll be honest—if I knew how to fly a helicopter myself, I’d have commandeered yours hours ago. Then paid you handsomely for the inconvenience, of course.”

  She smiles slightly at my joke, but there’s still plenty of concern in her face.

  “You still have two days, Your Highness,” she says. “Hopefully the universe is on your side and it lets up tomorrow.”

  “Is that what they’re saying now? That the snow will let up tomorrow?”

  “Sometimes these things change quickly.”

  “You don’t sound very confident.”

  She frowns, clearly not want to deliver the bad news. “We can look at the updated weather reports. But even if it still looks bad now, things might be different in the morning.”

  She flicks on the room’s TV. Though the internet and mobile phone service are down, we realized last night that we could still pick up a couple of static-y local television channels, including a news station that has been focusing heavily on the storm. Sure enough, when we switch it on, a man is gesturing to a large weather map. I translate the French for Miss Greene.

  “He says the snow will continue for the next few hours,” I tell her, my stomach sinking as he speaks. “We should expect another few inches by mid-afternoon. But the wind should slow.” When he goes on, though, I start to feel hope. “But he says we should get a reprieve after that. Apparently we’ll have a little pocket of relief.” Sure enough, as the weather map shows the progression of the next few hours, the storm system seems to clear over Central Europe. The white and pink blotches representing the snow and ice break up for most of the afternoon and evening, missing Montovia completely, but by the time the progression reaches the fifteen hour mark—early into tomorrow morning—the storm has closed over us again.

  “Do you see that?” I say excitedly, pointing to the screen. “This is our chance! It will let up for a few hours.”

  Miss Greene is staring at the TV, a small frown on her lips. “Maybe, but…”

  “Tomorrow it gets bad again. You were right about the universe being on my side, but our chance is today, not tomorrow. How long should it take us to fly to Montovia from here?”

  “Only a few hours. But that’s in normal conditions.”

  “Do you think we’d have time to fly there before the storm picked up again?”

  Her forehead is wrinkled, and I suspect she wants to tell me know—but either my openness and charm has won her over, or she truly does believe we have a shot, because after a moment, she looks over at me with determination in her eyes.

  “It will probably be a bumpy ride,” she says. “But I think I could do it.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  She rubs the side of her neck. “I need to check with the air traffic controller and see if I can get any more information, but I think you’re right—this might be our chance. But I’m not promising anything. Not yet.”

  That’s enough for me. “Let me know as soon as you have word.”

  She agrees, and I leave her room feeling lighter than I have in days. I might finally be going home.

  Looks like the universe is on my side after all.

  Several hours later, I change my mind. The universe is not on my side. In fact, the universe may very well be trying to kill me.

  We left the moment the weather cleared up, right about three o’clock in the afternoon—Miss Greene, Matthias, Owen, and me. I gave Matthias and Owen the option to stay for a few days, to return to Montovia when it was safer to travel, but neither of them would hear of it. We set off together in the helicopter in high spirits, all eager and hopeful that we’d make it to the palace in time for a late but delicious dinner.

  Now, I wonder if I’ll ever see the palace again.

  I grip the sides of my seat as the helicopter pitches to the side, buffeted by rough winds. The first few hours of the journey were great—brisk, yes, but not entirely unpleasant. But only moments after Miss Greene announced that we’d reach our destination within the hour, everything seemed to change. The sky got dark ominously quickly, and the winds picked up in intensity. Our smooth ride suddenly became almost violent.

  I glance over at Miss Greene. She hasn’t said more than a handful of words to us since the weather turned. All her attention is focused on flying. Her hands squeeze the controls tightly, and in spite of the chill up here, there’s sweat dripping down her temple.

  I twist around, looking back at Owen and Matthias. Matthias looks green in the face, while Owen is deathly white. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes so wide and terrified.

  He thinks he’s going to die, I realize. And with a start, I realize such thoughts are not far from the front of my mind, either—we may very well die tonight, and if we do, it will be entirely my fault. My recklessness and impatience led us here.

  I want to ask Miss Greene, to know her honest opinion about whether or not we’ll make it through this, but I don’t dare distract her right now.

  Suddenly the helicopter shudders, pitching wildly to the side. Meghan curses, jerking the steering mechanism, but it doesn’t seem to do much. An alarm starts blaring on the dashboard.

  This is it, I think. My final moments. I’ll never get to see Elle again. Never get to hold Matthew in my arms again. Never get to—

  “Fuck!”

  I’m not sure who shouted. It might have been me. But suddenly there’s a mountain looming up in front of us, and the helicopter is still traveling downward, fighting against the wind and our pilot’s grip on the controls.

  “Hold on!” she shouts over the roar of the wind.

  She doesn’t have to tell me that. My fingers dig into the seat, so hard that my hands start to cramp.

  And still the helicopter is thrown forward and down, right toward the side of the mountain.

  Toward our inevitable deaths.

  Elle

  I almost feel like my life has finally found something of a rhythm. There’s only a day until the wedding, but even with the flurry of people running around the palace, Matthew finally seems to be sleeping on something of a regular schedule for the moment.

  Granted, his “schedule” is one of three hours of sleep at a time. But the last few nights, he’s only woken up to nurse and has fallen right back to sleep for another three hours, giving me almost a reasonable amount of sleep myself.

  He’s lying in the bassinet, cooing at something I can’t see while a seamstress is hemming the bottom of my wedding dress.

  I have to admit, I love it. Leo’s mother found it somewhere in one of the storage rooms—it’s not quite a traditional wedding dress
—it isn’t white, for one thing—but it’s perfect all the same. Even if Leo and I could have had our own ceremony, I’m not sure I would have chosen to wear white. This cream-color dress is much more in line with what I would have picked for myself.

  It may not matter, anyway. Leo still hasn’t come back. I’ve tried to call him again—several times each day—but he must be somewhere with no signal.

  I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few days, and I suppose that’s been a blessing. Talking with Victoria the other day made me realize how lucky I am. And even if Leo did go out to get one last fling out of his system…

  I sigh. Somewhere deep inside myself I know that isn’t what happened. I just can’t seem to shake the little niggling thought that he’ll always be the playboy prince he’s always been.

  But he loves me. He adores his son—I know that much. And I sincerely doubt that even if he did decide to go back to his old ways that his mother would let him live it down. She and Matthew have been bonding too much this week for that to ever happen.

  It gives me a warm feeling inside, knowing Matthew is going to have so much extended family around him—family who loves him. He’ll have a completely different life than I have—he’ll never want for anything, and someday he’ll rule this country himself. That’s still a little hard to believe.

  “All done.” The seamstress stands, and turns me by the shoulders to the full-length mirror beside us. “What do you think?”

  I suck in a sharp breath. Even with my hair a mess, I still don’t recognize myself. “It’s…it’s…”

  “Beautiful, no?” She chuckles, putting her supplies back into the basket on the table next to her. “But you wear it—it definitely isn’t wearing you.”

  “I… Thank you.” I turn to look at myself from the side—something about the way she’s taken the dress in on the top hides the parts of me that still haven’t returned to normal after Matthew’s birth. “I wish I knew how you did this.”

  She laughs. “The secret is in the darts.” She pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in the morning before the big ceremony.”

  “Of course.” Maybe she isn’t aware that Leo still hasn’t come back—that my part in the big ceremony might be over before it starts.

  There’s a soft knocking on my door, and I shuffle over to answer. The dress might look like a perfect fit, but the huge amount of material on the bottom makes it difficult to walk.

  I crack open the door and see Victoria standing on the other side.

  Her jaw drops as she enters. “Oh, Elle. You’re just—”

  “Beautiful, no?” The seamstress finishes putting the rest of her supplies into her sewing basket. “But we should take it off now. Don’t want to ruin it for the big day.”

  The woman helps me out of the garment and takes it into the bedroom to hang it up as I pull on my clothes.

  Victoria is standing over Matthew’s bassinet, smiling down at him and echoing his noises. She turns to me with a smile. “When did this start?”

  “The cooing? Yesterday. He seems to love the sound of his own voice.”

  “He’s going to fit in with all the other men in this house.” She smiles at me before looking back at the baby. “Aren’t you, Matthew?”

  He stares up at her, and I could swear he almost smiles.

  Victoria’s gaze darts to mine. “Did he just…?”

  I nod. “I think so.”

  She smiles down at him again, though I can see tears shining in her eyes. “You’re a sweet boy, Matthew.”

  This time, he definitely flashes her a full-on smile, and it almost knocks me over how much he looks like Leo. My chest tightens. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy these past few days to distract myself, but something isn’t right. Something is definitely very, very…wrong.

  Victoria seems to sense it, too. “He still hasn’t called?”

  I give her a sharp shake of my head, biting at my lip to keep myself from crying.

  “Andrew’s been trying to call him, too. But he says Leo not taking his calls is nothing new.” She frowns. “We need to call it off. We—”

  I shake my head, sniffling. “This is your wedding. It was always yours. He probably…he probably got cold feet. And you know, I might have, too. If I hadn’t been trying to pretend nothing was wrong for so long…I might have done something like that, too.”

  She searches my eyes, her lips pressed together. “I don’t believe that any more than you do.” Her shoulders drop, and she lets out a long breath. “There has to be some way to find him.”

  I shake my head. “Penelope has been trying to find him since yesterday. She finally got King Edmund involved.”

  Victoria arches a brow. “I guess…I mean, Andrew and I were a little busy. We should have been here to help…”

  “That must mean you patched things up?” I give her a weak grin—for as worried as I am about Leo, I don’t want her and Andrew to suffer for it. I know they have their own issues to bear.

  “I…we…” Her face flushes, and she pauses, giving me a small smile. “We did.”

  “I’m glad. Really.”

  She nods. “Me, too. But…we need to figure out how to find Leo. Even if…” Her voice trails off, and I have no doubt about what she’s trying not to say.

  “Even if he’s changed his mind about marrying me?”

  Her expression clouds. “Oh, Elle…”

  I shake my head. “I know. I mean, it shouldn’t surprise anyone, right? But it isn’t that big of a deal.” My eyes fill with tears. “I mean, this was always supposed to be your wedding.”

  She shakes her head as she reaches out to put her hand on my forearm. “As soon as you agreed, it became our wedding. And I don’t know what I can do. I really don’t. But I’ll do everything in my power to help you find him. Today.”

  Andrew

  If I ever see my brother again, I’m going to kill him. Painfully.

  With a sigh, I shove my mobile back in my pocket. I’ve spent a lifetime dealing with Leopold, and I should know how he operates by now, but this is unacceptable, even for him. The wedding is tomorrow—where the hell is he? He was the one who suggested we make it a double wedding in the first place—if he were so opposed to the idea of tying the knot that he’d rather run away than walk down the aisle, then why did he even bother?

  I look over at my mother, who’s fiddling with a bit of thread. A couple of months ago she embroidered a handkerchief as a gift for Victoria to carry at the wedding, and after we decided to make it a double wedding, she’s been rushing to make one for Elle, too. I know her current frustration, though, has nothing to do with her stitching and everything to do with Leopold’s disappearance.

  “This just isn’t like him,” she says finally, setting the handkerchief aside. “I’m afraid something’s terribly wrong.”

  Frankly, I am too, but I don’t give voice to that. Someone needs to stay strong and pretend that everything will be all right or all of this will fall apart. It looks like that task has fallen to me.

  “I’m sure he’ll return just in time,” I tell her. “He always does, doesn’t he? Say what you will about Leopold, but he always seems to wiggle out of trouble at the last minute. I suspect he’ll come waltzing in the door just in time for the ceremony, grinning as if this was all some great joke.”

  My mother doesn’t look convinced. She gives a little shake of her head. “Leopold wouldn’t do that to Elle. Or to Matthew.”

  No, he wouldn’t. My brother changed for the better when that woman came into his life—I’ve never seen him so happy or responsible. Elle has given him a purpose, given his life a meaning it didn’t have before. If he feels for Elle even half of what I do for Victoria, he wouldn’t run out on her.

  But then where the hell is he? What’s happened?

  A knock on the sitting room door snaps me out of my thoughts.

  “Come in,” I call.

  A young man enters, looking nervously from me to my mother and back ag
ain.

  “As requested, Your Highness, we’ve been monitoring all transportation in and out of Montovia,” says the young man, bowing. “We’ve had no official word about His Highness Prince Leopold yet, but my captain has thought you might want to know… That is, we aren’t sure about all the details yet, but…” He looks nervously between us again, and in my own agitated state, I find myself losing patience very quickly.

  “But what?” I demand. “What’s happened?”

  The man straightens, suddenly seeming to remember his job. “We don’t know for sure yet, Your Highness, but there’s been a crash in the mountains.”

  “A crash?”

  “A helicopter. Coming from the southwest, we believed. We were able to locate the remains, but we’ve yet to confirm who was on board.”

  “Remains…” I say, my imagination picturing the worst. “Human remains?”

  He gives a sharp shake of his head. “The remains of the helicopter. We found no one, but the helicopter was in bad shape. We’re still searching for survivors.”

  I look over at my mother, who’s gone deathly white.

  “Have you any indication that Leopold was on that helicopter?” I ask.

  “No absolute proof, Your Highness, but…”

  “But what?”

  “We found the remains of some luggage. And we found this.” He pulls something out of his pocket. At first, it just looks like a crumpled, charred piece of paper, but upon closer inspection, I see that it’s a wedding invitation—one of the new ones bearing Leopold and Elle’s names in addition to Victoria’s and mine.

  My mother sucks in a breath.

  “This doesn’t necessarily mean he was on the helicopter,” I say, but the bottom has fallen out of my stomach. It certainly doesn’t look good.

  “We’re still searching,” the young man says. “If there’s anything else we can do—”

  “Yes. I want hundred more people on the search. No—five hundred. Every available man and woman.” I take a deep breath. “And I’ll be joining you.”