by J. J. McAvoy
And how was I to guard him against himself?
Chapter 2
“Odette, are you trying to kill me?”
“Mom—”
“How could you tell me you are traveling across the ocean in a text message?” she snapped on the phone as I got my bag from the overhead cabin.
“If I told you before, you would have tried to talk me out of this.” Or, at the very least, she would have wanted to come with me, and that was not going to work at all.
“For good reason!”
“See, it was better off in a text.” I flipped the phone to my other ear.
“Thank you for flying Ersovian Airways. Please enjoy your stay,” The first-class attendant said as I walked by.
“Grazne,” I said, thanking the attendant. “I hope to see all the attractions you mentioned.” I knew it was the attendants' job to be friendly, especially in first class, but she had been really nice. When I told her it was my first time to Ersovia, she had spent a few minutes telling me all the places I should see.
“Are you going sightseeing or getting a divorce,” my mother asked as I stepped out of the plane.
“Can’t I do both?”
“I really can’t believe you. Why are you always just diving headfirst into things? You run off to get married, and now you run off to get a divorce.”
Was she kidding? “Who was it that pushed me in the first place? I clearly remember you cheering me on. What did you say, ‘Oh, you really are my daughter.’ Now you are complaining?”
“Because you are in a strange country alone. Did you even hire security? A guard or something.”
“Mom, I’m not Beyoncé—”
“No, you are worth more. Why are you so loose with your safety? I keep telling you—”
“Mom, I will be fine!” Jesus, she was more worried and concerned now that I was a grown woman than when I was a child. Especially recently.
“Odette. Did you even speak to Mr. Greensboro—”
“Mom, I will call you when I get settled. Don’t worry. I let the company know I was here. They helped with my hotel and everything and told me to call if I needed anything. Now, I have to go.”
“Odette, are you sure you don’t need me to come? This might be hard for you to get done alone. You know how attached you get to people.”
“Hey!” I snapped, a bit annoyed. “Seriously, Mom. I’m a big girl. I’m fine. I’m not attached to anyone except you, apparently.”
“Good. Now please, please be careful,” she begged.
“I will, I promise. Love you. Bye.” I hung up before she could protest more.
Tossing the phone back into my purse, I wheeled my bag up the escalator, and the very first thing I saw when I crossed the corner was a giant billboard of Gale. The words beside him reading, Welcome to Ersovia, Where the Past Meets the Future. The smile on his face was all warm and open. He wasn’t wearing a suit but some royal uniform with a sash and golden shoulder guards or something. However, it wasn’t how princely he looked that threw me off; it was the woman beside the billboard taking photos with it.
Talk about an out-of-body experience. It was so strange. I knew Gale was a prince, but seeing him plastered on a wall like that, that was different. I tried to ignore it. I kept walking, but it wasn’t just him. Hanging from the top of the airport were photos of his sister, Princess Eliza, with her beautiful red hair, seated elegantly in a ruffled dress. There were pictures of the queen, who also had red hair, seated beside her husband, the king.
Then there was Arthur. The sign above the date of his birth and death read, In Memoriam of HRH Arthur, the Prince of Ersovia. I had seen him online and in photos and could see the similarity between him and Gale. They shared the same eyes. It was clear there was no escaping the royals here. And the more I saw, the more it hit me that I could never be part of that. By the time I entered the first-class customs line, I felt more dread and regret at coming. Everything felt as if it were screaming, You do not belong.
“Next,” the female customs officer said as I came forward.
“Gerchen,” I said in greeting, sliding over my passport.
“Gerchen,” she said, taking the passport and sliding it through the machine. “What is the purpose of your visit?”
“Tourism,” I lied.
“How long do you intend to stay?”
I have no idea. However long it takes me to get your prince to sign divorce papers? “Two weeks.”
She nodded, stamped the passport, and gave it back to me.
“Grazne,” I said, thanking her before leaving.
It wasn’t until I was outside with my luggage that it hit me. I was a little stunned that I was here. I had spent the last six months reading and learning as much about the city as I could. Why? Because of Gale. It made me feel better to know about the country he would one day rule. My mind was reeling with information. Ersovia was a nation of 38.6 million people. The capital was Erelis and had a million residents living within its city limits. They drove on the same side of the road as Americans and spoke Ersovian, French, English, and Italian. I could go on. But as I saw the darkening sky, I rushed to the taxi line, part of me wishing I had called for a private car. I was doing my best to be discreet; however, I may have overdone it.
“Where to?” the older man said when he got back into the front seat after loading my luggage into the trunk.
“The Lal-et-Loire Hotel please,” I said in Ersovian, hoping my pronunciation was correct. I knew how the words should sound in my mind, but it was a different story when it came out.
He nodded at me, grinning. “You speak, Ersovian?”
“A little. Still learning.” I smiled.
“Wunillosa!” He gave me thumbs-up, letting me know how wonderful he found it that I was learning his language, and I took pride in that.
He spent the whole ride speaking to me. His English was as good as my Ersovian, but we understood each other. And he took it upon himself to explain everything as we drove out of the airport toward the city’s center. My eyes remained glued out the window, and it was just as Gale had described. A country of rolling green hills and tall green grass. In the distance, I could see old ruins or older homes on the side of the hills. There were even roman aqueducts in the valleys between the trees.
It took us almost an hour to get into Erelis, and on the bridge that led us there, were two winged angels blowing into horns at the top of two pillars. The city was just like Europe—the old and new mixed together into one. There was a perpendicular, gothic-style building that looked like a medieval castle on one side, French baroque-style arches and chateaus on the other, along with cobblestoned homes and streets, a building made of only glass, and skyscrapers that shot up into the sky.
“And this is Bellecoeur Palace,” he said as we drove past a breathtaking, massive, cream-colored, baroque-style palace with a red roof. The palace was U-shaped, as in one long front building, then two attached on each side. I could not even count the windows on one side. From the rows, it looked like there were only three levels, but I doubted that was the case. There were columns on pilasters between every window, and at the uppermost level, there was a golden clock.
That was just one small detail in a sea of details before you reached the doors of the place. But before the black iron gate with the letter M, which was written in gold, was a large plaza with some pattern that I could not see from where I was sitting.
“Second biggest palace in Europe!” the driver exclaimed proudly.
“I can see.” I knew they had not built it recently or in the last few hundred years, but still, it was easy to see that their family had spent money—unbelievable amounts of money. No wonder they came looking for mine. What was the upkeep for something like that? As we drove by, I saw the soldiers dressed in red and black standing at the gates like statues as tourists tried to take photos.
“Beautiful, yes?”
“Yes.” I nodded, staring at it, amazed.
I grew up wanting fo
r nothing. I had more money than people could ever dream of, and I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up in something like that. Shaking my head, I looked away.
A few minutes later, we reached the hotel where I was staying, and although it was beautiful, after seeing the palace, it seemed like any other building on the block.
“Thank you,” I said to the driver.
He had been a fun mini-tour guide. He waved as I entered the marble and red-carpeted lobby, walking up to the desk.
“Welcome, may I help you?” a dark-haired woman asked, looking me up and down, and I didn’t understand why she looked at me with confusion.
“Yes, reservation for Wyntor,” I replied, giving her my passport.
She clicked the computer for a second before looking back at me. “Sorry, ma’am, I cannot seem to find your reservation.”
“Really?” I asked, taking out my cell phone and showing her the confirmation I had received.
“Yes, sorry, but that does not seem to be in our system,” she said, barely glancing at the reservation.
“Well, it is in my system,” I said to her. “My card was charged too.”
“May I see?” she asked, and I gave her the card.
I had a weird feeling, and I didn’t like it.
At the same time, a man came up beside her and asked her in Ersovian. “Are you all right here?”
“She wants the royal suite,” she muttered back, looking at me. “I’m checking the card she used now. You know.”
I bit my lip. I may not have been able to speak Ersovian well, but my understanding was quite good. I wanted to let her know I could hear the ignorance hidden behind her fake professionalism and smile. It was clear she thought I was not the type of person who could have the royal suite. I hated people like this, and what made it worse was that she was probably my age, if not just a little bit older. And yet she had the nerve to still act like this behavior was okay.
“May I speak to the manager then?” I asked, still trying to be polite.
“One moment.” The man held up a finger to me, not bothering to look at me as he also stared at the screen. After another minute, he looked up and gave me back my card. “There seems to be a small mistake. We are fully booked, ma’am. If you call your bank, I’m sure they will be able to help you with any charges.”
“I ordered a room. I paid for a room. That seems to be a hotel issue, not a bank one. So, may I speak to a manager?”
“There is nothing they would be able to do, miss. If you’d like, we can find other... more affordable accommodation—”
“This is affordable accommodations, hence why I booked it. I am tired. Again, is the manager available?”
“At this time, no,” he said. They both looked annoyed as if I was the issue, not them. The female sighed heavily, typing whatever the hell she was typing.
The more they spoke, the angrier I became, but my father had always told me not to fight the ignorant directly because it didn’t change them. It just reinforced their prejudice. Instead, beat them down with the two things we did have—money and influence.
Taking out my phone, I dialed, waiting for a second before he answered.
“Miss Wyntor, how may I help you?”
“Hi, Mr. Wallace, I’m sorry to be calling so suddenly, but I need your help. Would you happen to know the owner of the Lal-et-Loire Hotel in Ersovia, where you booked accommodation for me? I am currently having issues with their front desk. Apparently, there is a problem with my room, and I cannot seem to get in touch with a manager here.”
Both the woman and the man looked at me as if I were insane, and I just smiled.
“What? Wait a moment. I know them. Are you still there now?” he asked.
“Yes, I am in the lobby,” I said, looking at the two people in front of me who were leaning closer. “And the names of the two at the desk are Annalena and Viktor.”
“I will call them now. Hold on one moment, Miss Wyntor.”
“No problem,” I said and smiled back at the receptionists. Both of them were frowning and confused but didn’t seem to understand or care.
It happened faster than I thought. Another woman with short, black hair and a birthmark on her chin came rushing down the stairs toward me. I knew she was the one who was going to help me because when she came down, the two behind the desk looked back over at me.
“Miss Wyntor, someone should be arriving now.”
“Yes, I see her. Thank you, Mr. Wallace.” I turned to the woman.
“Do you need me to stay on the line?” He asked.
“No. I will call back if I need you.”
“Of course.”
“Ms. Odette Wyntor?” the woman asked me.
I nodded.
“I am so sorry for the confusion! We will get you a room right away,” she said, walking around the desk.
“Really? These two told me you were fully booked,” I said, pointing to the two beside her. “And they told me no manager was available.”
Her head whipped back to them, and she was breathing through her nose. But she held it in and looked back at me. “They are still new, so it seems they made a mistake. The royal suite you requested is open. Here are your keys, and I will have someone bring up your bags. If you’d like, we can also send up lunch for you. You must be exhausted from your flight.”
“I am.” I sighed dramatically. “And I was so worried I wasn’t going to have anywhere to sleep tonight. They were telling me there were other more affordable options around. And Annalena also said she was checking my card? Is everything all right with it?”
I looked at Annalena, waiting. She just stared at me. Her eyes shifted to her manager, who I could see was giving her the dirtiest glare imaginable. Annalena just nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, everything is fine.”
“So, you were mistaken?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
There was pettiness in me that still wanted to yell at her, to demand her job or something. But I did what I always did when something like this happened. I let it go...for my peace.
“I guess it happens to the best and worst of us. Excuse me.” I nodded at the manager before going to the elevator.
When I turned back, I could see the manager was face-to-face with them both, and their heads hung as if they were children. I shook my head. If only every black person had a Mr. Wallace, who was the director of Etheus here. It was so sad I had to bring in backup just to get a room. But if I had it, I would use it. I tried to be as grounded as possible. However, people didn’t understand that just because I wasn’t wearing designer clothes or dolled up every day, didn’t mean I wasn’t an heiress.
“This is why it won’t work,” I whispered to myself. It was good I experienced this early. It was a reminder, just like my mother had told me, it wasn’t possible between Gale and me anymore. I needed to keep to my goal. I needed to remember I was here to get a divorce. I was here to be free of him.
I would rest now.
And then tomorrow, I would start the painful process of untangling myself from the web I was in.
It was against the rules for a royal staff member to run in the palace, so I walked quickly, not making eye contact with anyone. I tried my best not to smile, even though I really wanted to, keeping my arms at my sides and my head down just in case my face gave anything away. Finally! There was good news, and I just needed to get down the hall.
“Wolfgang?”
Damn.
Slowly, I turned to see the dark eyes of Iskandar fixed on me.
“Iskandar.” I nodded at him.
His eyebrow raised as he looked me over. “Why are you walking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you are trying not to run?”
“How do you do that?” I gaped.
“So, you are.” He stepped forward. “Why? What is going on?”
I did not want to tell him but knowing Iskandar, there was no point keeping him in the dark becaus
e he would only press on more. I checked around us before stepping closer. “I just received word that Odette came into the country this morning.”
He did not react, and once again, he didn’t look surprised or alive. What was the point of having a face?
“Did you hear me? Odette—”
“Exactly how did you come upon this information?” he interrupted me.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes, because for you to receive word means you have been requesting word. And the only people you could request such information from is immigration. And you do not have the power to do that. So, either you were ordered to do so by someone who does, or you used your influence and took it upon yourself to break the law. Which is it?”
“I will not answer that question—”
“So, you took it upon yourself, then,” he answered. “And now that I know, you have incriminated me as well.”
“It is not that serious.” How could he be stoic and a drama queen?
“Under federal statute EM 332, disclosing or receiving private information on members of the public is a—”
“Sometimes, there are gray areas in law and protocol, Iskandar.” Now I was annoyed. Not only did he know all the palace rules and ethics, but he also kept up with federal statutes? Give me a break. What did they do to him as a child, hook him to a supercomputer?
“Not for us. We do not work in the gray. You should know this as your family—”
“Please do not bring up my family, the code, or the order or whatever. Some things go beyond the book. I may not be part of the guard, as the rest of my family is, but I take my duty and service just as seriously as you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to—”
He stepped in my path. “You are not going to tell the Adelaar about this.”
“You cannot stop me.”
“Yes, actually, I can. Because you are staff, I am his guard. No one enters without my permission, not even you. That is my duty.”
“Why are you doing this?” I hissed under my breath. “You know what state he is in. I may not be as smart as you, and I may not take the rules to heart as strongly as you, but I’m not a fool. I knew she would eventually come because she cares about him. And he cares about her. Having her here will help him.”
