by Everly James
Royally Yours
By Everly James
Copyright 2017 Everly James
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
Ellie Mayhew threw her suitcase onto the bed with a loud grunt. Her tiny room was filled to the brim with wall-to-wall bookcases that were overflowing with books. Thick paperbacks were stacked two deep on each shelf intermingled with plants. Thick, glossy leaved greenery tumbled out of black plastic pots. It was like being in a jungle where the tree trunks were made of books.
“You’ll be just fine,” Ellie said to the room, petting her favorite plant. “I’ll be back for all of you soon.” She opened the bottom drawer of her ancient dresser and swept all the clothes out of it and into her arms, dropping the contents into her suitcase.
“You forgot these,” said a voice from the hallway.
It was her twin brother, Eric. They shared the same pale skin, red hair, and blue eyes; the similarities stopped with their looks. Personality-wise, they couldn’t be more different. Eric was the outgoing jock while Ellie was the book-smart nerd. Despite their differences, they always got along well.
Eric stood there holding a pair of lime green gardening gloves with a grin on his face.
“You left them on top of the washing machine,” he said, throwing them at Ellie.
He walked over to her bed and sat down on it. The springs on the old twin mattress creaked. “I can’t believe you’re basically leaving me for good.”
Ellie laughed and emptied out another drawer. “I’ll be back in a few months for Christmas,” she said. “It’s really not all that bad.”
“You left me for New York four years ago. And now you’re going back there without me, leaving me to rot in this small town.”
Ellie threw a pair of socks at him. “Stop it. If you really tried with your job search, you could get out of this place, too. And this town isn’t really that bad.” She leaned on her suitcase to get the clothes to pack down into the space. She was only halfway done and there was no room left.
“Says the girl who fled at the first opportunity,” Eric pointed out. “You couldn’t wait to get out of here. Don’t lie.”
Ellie groaned as she tried to stuff more t-shirts into her bag.
“I think you’re going to need about six more of those suitcases,” Eric said.
“I’m only allowed to have one,” Ellie said.
“I can’t believe you’re joining a cult.”
“Stop it,” Ellie replied. “It is not a cult. It’s an urban farming cooperative—”
“It’s a cult. Face it. You’ll be married off to the leader as his nubile, young sex slave.”
Ellie laughed and tossed her red hair over her shoulder. “Jason Bell is not a cult leader. He’s just a guy with a lot of money who saw an opportunity—”
“To gentrify Brooklyn.”
“It’s on the Upper West Side.” Ellie opened and closed her mouth. “Most of the staff there are Black and Latinx.”
“Latinx?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Read a damn book, Eric. It’s the proper way to refer to the community. It’s non-binary and inclusive of all genders.”
Eric yawned. “Will you at least invite me to the wedding? I can scope out your sister brides and see which one’s the hottest.”
“Out!” Ellie yelled. But she was laughing. She could pretend otherwise, but she would miss her brother something fierce.
But adventure awaited her. She couldn’t wait to get to it.
CHAPTER TWO
Melody Bryant yawned, which was precisely the last thing she should have been doing. She felt her mother’s glare long before she saw it. She turned her eyes to the right. There it was. The death stare from her royal highness.
“Ahem,” said Queen Regina Anna Winthrop Bryant as politely as she could.
But Melody just knew her as mother.
The library was an enormous, mahogany wood-paneled room with floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that let in the afternoon sunlight. Each wall was covered in books; there were several rolling ladders that stretched to the thirty-foot ceilings. The room smelled of dust, ink, and paper with a light hint of lemon wood polish. Melody knew that the staff dreaded cleaning the library; they avoided it at all costs due to it being such a gargantuan task.
“Too much dust,” Sally, the head of the cleaning crew, always said. “Those books seem to produce more than is humanly possible.”
Because of the staff avoiding the place like the plague, the library had been Melody’s refuge as a young girl. It was the only place where she could hear herself think in a world ruled by schedule, promptness, and social graces.
“Melody, are we boring you?”
Melody shook her head. “No, ma’am.”
“Good.” Regina held her regal neck up high. Her pale skin glinted in the beam of sunlight that fell through the tall, plate glass windows of the library. Melody was doing her best to not wish she was back up in her room reading one of the ten thousand books housed in the library. “Now, back to the subject at hand. Your father and I have been talking about your future.”
Melody stood up and wandered to the big, vintage globe that had so entranced her as a child. She ran her fingers across the bumpy texture of the curved map. The globe was worn in all her favorite places, the ones she used to dream of visiting as a child. She spun it around.
“Of course you’ve been talking about my future,” Melody replied, with more bitterness than she should have allowed herself to display.
Her father, Prince Paul Ellison Bryant, let a flash of mirth cross h
is face. Melody and her father had always been close; they had a secret language that her mother never could understand. She shared his facial features: a wide nose, glinting brown eyes, and ebony skin. The only thing she got from her mother was an ability to grow Rapunzel-length hair, even though hers was textured and voluminous while her mother’s was straight and lifeless.
“Now that you’re finished with university, we think it’s time you started shadowing me on a daily basis.”
Melody rolled her brown eyes. “Is that all?”
Regina held her blonde head haughtily. “I think I need a little more than just insolence from you, dearest daughter.”
Melody sighed. “When do I start?”
“Monday,” Regina said. “I expect you at the breakfast table at six o’clock sharp.”
The globe was still spinning. Melody put her index finger lightly on it, and the globe slowed its rotation. It came to a stop underneath her finger, and Melody beamed at the location.
Finally, she had a sign from the universe that she should be doing something other than what her mother said she should. “Yes, Mother. May I be excused?”
Regina blinked. “That’s all? No hissy fits? No fight from you whatsoever? Are you feeling okay? Are you well?”
Melody pasted on a smile. She had an idea brewing that made her fingers tingle. It had fallen so neatly in her head it was like a book toppling from the highest shelf. But she couldn’t let on that she had a plan.
“I’m headed to France this weekend with Marcy and Dylan, as you know.”
“Give them our best,” Paul said, sipping his tea. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“A short list, no doubt,” Regina said primly. “Take Herschel with you.”
“Of course. Good day, Mother. Good day, Father.”
Melody tried not to skip out of the room. The idea she’d had made her feel like her feet weren’t even touching the parquet flooring.
CHAPTER THREE
“Mayhew, Ellie?”
Ellie uncrossed her legs and stood up. She was standing in a ramshackle room that was the size of her closet back home. The walls were covered with protest posters and World War II propaganda; she recognized the “V is for Victory Garden” illustrations from a paper she’d written in high school. The floor was creaky and streaked with mud. A pile of Wellington boots sat at the doorway next to a coatrack that was covered in dirty aprons. The sound of piano music filtered down from the floors above, but otherwise, the space was quiet.
She left her suitcase and walked over to the makeshift desk: an old roll top secretary that was as dusty and dirty as the floors. A Latina woman with thick, glossy brown hair and bright red lipstick sat behind it. Her hair was up in a high, messy bun that made her look like a movie star caught on the way to the grocery store by the paparazzi.
“That’s me,” Ellie said, adjusting her shoulder bag. She stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
“Velia,” the woman said with a smile. “The pleasure is all mine.” She handed Ellie a packet. “Your room is on the top floor.”
“Any roommates?”
“Not yet,” Velia said. “There’s a chance that you’ll get paired up with a late arrival, but the deadline for registration for this semester is only a couple of days from now. I wouldn’t count on it.”
Ellie grinned. “I had to share a one-bedroom apartment with three other women all four years of undergrad. This will be a welcome respite.”
Velia smiled at her. “Awesome. Curfew is at midnight, and we have a noise ordinance keeping us from partying too hard.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ellie said. “All I do is read in my spare time.”
“You’ll fit right in here,” Velia replied. “Dinner tonight is at six, as usual.” She flipped through the packet of papers. “Looks like you have dish duty your first week. Sorry about that.”
“I like getting it out of the way better than dreading it,” Ellie said brightly. She was excited to read the thick packet of information in her hands. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Just that we haze the newcomers with a raw turnip-eating contest,” said a masculine voice to Ellie’s left.
Ellie looked over to see Jason Bell standing in the doorway wearing dirt-spackled Wellies and holding a bunch of turnips half the size of her suitcase.
“Just kidding,” Jason said. He had a handsome air to his features, with a straight nose, pale skin, full lips, and sparkling blue eyes. Ellie flashed to Eric saying she would be his sex slave and blushed in spite of herself. She wasn’t normally attracted to men, but there was just something about him that tickled her. “I’m Jason.”
“I know who you are. I saw your picture on the website.”
“Camera takes away ten pounds,” Jason said, pointing at a non-existent belly with his free hand. “I’m much chubbier in real life.”
Ellie could see that he was ripped even under his t-shirt. She didn’t know why, but skinny people pretending they were fat really bothered her. She cleared her throat and shook off the bad feeling.
“I’m Ellie Mayhew.”
“The newest recruit. Welcome to the Block!”
Ellie stuck out her hand. He had a firm grip that inspired confidence. She couldn’t bear weak handshakes from able-bodied people. “Thanks.”
“Tonight, we’ve got a great dinner,” Jason said. He pointed at the bundle of turnips. “Expect to see these babies again.”
Ellie nodded. “Looking forward to it.”
“She’s on dish duty,” Velia said.
Jason pulled a painful expression. “Ouch. First night here.”
“You all are acting like you don’t have a dishwasher here,” Ellie said. “There was a picture of one of the website. The industrial kind.”
“Tough break, kid,” Jason said. “It broke a week ago. It’s an Italian-made piece of machinery, so the part we need is on backorder for at least the next month and a half.”
Ellie shrugged. “I can do dishes by hand.” She pointed at her packet. “I’ve got to go read up on everything. It was nice to meet you.”
“Need a hand with your bag?” Jason asked, pointing at her suitcase.
Ellie shook her head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”
She started up the switchback staircase. The walls were tiled in a random mosaic pattern. The violent color made her eyes blur as she walked. Each level had a new sound emanating from it. The second floor was where the piano player lived. On the third, someone was blasting Third Eye Blind. On the fourth, Ellie swore she heard someone sawing a piece of wood. And on her floor, at last, was the sound of an episode of Scandal playing. She recognized the sound of the rapid-fire camera shutter that marked a scene change.
Ellie grinned as she walked past several bedrooms, the floors creaking under her weight. Her room was the last on the left. On her right, the door was open. Ellie glanced over and saw a woman sitting on her twin-sized bed with her cellphone held horizontally in her hands.
“Which season are you on?” Ellie asked.
The woman jumped and shrieked, dropping her phone.
“Sorry!” Ellie said, feeling foolish. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The woman picked her phone up and held a hand over her heart. “It’s okay. We’re not supposed to watch television. I thought you were one of the staff here to reprimand me.”
“No television?”
The woman laughed darkly and held out a hand. “You’re the new girl, I see. I’m Constance.”
“Ellie. Nice to meet you.”
“You won’t narc on me, will you?” Constance asked.
Ellie laughed until she realized Constance wasn’t being funny. “Of course I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.” She paused. “Under one circumstance.”
Constance tilted her head to the side, her brown hair falling down her pale shoulders.
“What’s that?”
“Are you team Fitz or team Jake?”
“Team Jake,�
�� Constance said. “No question.”
Ellie grinned. “Constance, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Melody tapped her foot impatiently on the ground of the train station. The sound of announcements of train arrivals and departures filled the air, along with the scent of freshly baked goods. The cinnamon and butter aroma made Melody’s mouth water. But she was too excited and impatient to eat. She checked her watch. Their train was coming soon, but Marcy and Dylan were nowhere to be found.
“Your highness, I brought you a pastry,” Herschel said, walking up to her.
“I was wondering why you were gone so long,” Melody replied. She put a hand up as he offered it to her. “Thank you, but maybe hold onto it for me? I’m not feeling hungry at the moment.”
“Certainly, ma’am.”
“Herschel, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you: don’t call me ma’am. I’m not my mother.”
“Certainly, ma’am. Oops,” Herschel said, blushing. “My apologies, ma’am. Oh, there I go again. It’s habit ma—”
“Okay, okay. Fine. Call me ma’am. It’s fine,” Melody said. “It’ll be easier on both of us if you just give in to the impulse.”
Herschel checked his old-fashioned cell phone. It was a basic flip phone with zero features.
“That thing is older than I am,” Melody said, standing on her tiptoes to look at the fresh influx of people onto the platform. She couldn’t see Marcy or Dylan.
“I don’t like to be distracted by technology,” Herschel said. “Just checking my messages to see if your friends happened to have sent a text.”
Melody shook her head. “I doubt they would have sent one to you and not to me. Oh! Wait, there they are!” Melody waved her hand enthusiastically.
Marcy ran up and gave her an enormous hug, nearly knocking Melody off her feet. “I’ve missed you!”
“You saw me three days ago,” Melody said, laughing. “Hey, Dylan.”
Dylan gave her a nod of his closely-shorn head. “What’s up, Princess?”
Melody rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“She has a long list of things not to call her today,” Herschel said drily. “Shall we board the train?”
Herschel insisted on carrying Melody’s sumptuous leather duffel bag against much protest from Melody herself.
