I eventually fall asleep gazing out the window towards the forests that are lit up by the bright moonlight.
I wake in the morning to a shapely woman in a uniform with a crest on it coming into my room, bearing a trey of breakfast before her on a platter.
What the fuck? Where am I? All I can remember right now is that I had some really strange dreams, ones in which I was chasing a large and unusually muscular cow through a field full of mushrooms. Hmm, I’ll have to file that one away for any future visits to therapists—not that I’ve ever seen one before. Although maybe I should.
The uniformed women opens her mouth and says something. It sounds like an alien language. “Shx-hea-xan,” it sounds like. Fuck, what the hell is going on?
Then I realize what’s happening. It all comes flooding back. I’m in the royal Liserian palace. This woman’s uniform has the Liserian royal crest. She’s a palace servant, bringing me breakfast in bed. She’s speaking Liserian French.
“Thanks,” I manage to say, in regular French. It’s going to take me a while to start picking up on the words that are different in Liserian French, but I’m positive either way that my regular French is going to be understood by pretty much everyone.
“Do you want sugar for your coffee?” she says. This time I understand every word. My brain feels overwhelmed by the French, but I’m starting to remember a lot more.
“Just a little,” I say.
She leaves and I sip my coffee while still in bed, wondering what non-French speaking guest do when they stay in the palace. Then I realize that there’s probably a reason I’d never before heard of Liseria before meeting Luke—there probably aren’t many visitors.
The phone rings, startling me. It’s an old-fashioned phone that looks about 30 years old.
“Hello?” I say, in French.
“Hey,” says Luke. “It’s Luke.” He’s speaking English, which is a relief.
“I know it’s you, asshole,” I say.
He laughs. “I thought you’d want to check out the grounds this morning with me while the dew’s still on the grass. I know you love that nature stuff.”
I huff and puff a little, still a little ticked off about him not staying with me last night, but in the end I concede to his demands and we agree to meet in half an hour.
“Just meet me in the East Wing, by the Charlemagne Gate,” he says. “If you have any trouble finding it, just ask someone.”
“No problem,” I say, not wanting to sound stupid, but I wonder how the hell I’m going to find the East Wing, let alone some Charlemagne Gate. Whatever, I’ll figure it out when I get to it.
I finish my breakfast while staring out to the grounds. They look completely beautiful, honestly. I’ve never seen anything like the type of foliage here.
I also flip through a little French phrase book I brought along—a hangover from my college days—and try to memorize some very polite expressions, should we happen to meet someone very important.
But since I figure it’ll just be me and Luke walking around outside, I choose something practical to wear. After all, I wore that dress last night, and all that ended up happening was that Luke fucked me in it. I could have shown up wearing sweatpants and it all would have been the same, and I wouldn’t have to sent the dress to the cleaners. I remind myself to figure out how to get clothes cleaned here. I doubt Luke knows, but I’m sure Eugene does.
I put on the leggings I wore on the plane, along with an old t-shirt. I’m sure there’ll be time to change before the lunch with the King and Queen.
I leave my room, making sure to take the key along with me. It’s a big old-fashioned skeleton key that reminds me once again I really am in a palace.
There are some things I didn’t notice the night before, like sconces with torches on the walls. Since it was night, I also didn’t notice last night how dark and damp it is here in the palace even during the day. The light barely comes in, streaming, when it does, through narrow and deep windows far up above.
It takes me about twenty extra minutes to find the gate we’re supposed to meet at. I ask everyone I see in the palace, but they all act like I should already know where it is, so I spend a good while running back and forth through various stone passageways. The castle is fucking huge, but eventually I find them.
“Rebecca!” It’s Luke, waving at me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, breathless.
But what’s this? He’s standing there with three or four regal looking adults all wearing formal wear. Eugene’s standing along to the side.
I’m suddenly conscious of how inappropriately dressed I am to meet anyone. Luke doesn’t seem to take any notice of how I’m dressed, except, that is, to take a healthy glance at my ass as I walk over.
Eugene smiles weakly, and says, “Rebecca, may I present you to the King and Queen of Liseria.”
Oh shit!
The fucking king and queen. Why couldn’t I have chosen something else to wear? After all, it’s my first fucking morning in Liseria. And I chose to wear leggings and an old t-shirt just because we’re going to be going outside. That doesn’t make any sense.
“It’s so very nice to meet you,” says the Queen to me, in heavily-accented English. She seems like a pleasant lady in her mid 60s, with grey hair. I can tell she was quite the beauty in her early years, and she’s still got most of her figure. I’m a little envious, actually.
The king clears his throat. I look at him. He’s a very regal looking man with immensely broad shoulders, not to mention a big belly. He’s wearing some kind of really silly looking crown on his head. He has a scowl written across his face.
“The king actually prefers that English not be spoken in the palace,” says Eugene, to me in English. The irony isn’t lost on me. Not speaking English? Eugene’s speaking to me in English, and the Queen just spoke to me in English, didn’t she? Unless I’m hearing things.
“He’s just embarrassed about his own English,” says Luke, laughing at his own joke.
“I’ve spoken English fluently since I was five years old,” says the King, in Liserian French, his face in a horribly severe frown. “But this is Liseria, and we speak Liserian French in Liseria, especially in the palace.”
“That’s fine with me,” I say, speaking in French. I think the words are coming back to me.
“Very good,” says the King, his expression not even changing. It’s as if he’s not surprised at all that I speak French, but merely considers it something that he expects of all his guests, no matter where they’re from.
I catch Luke rolling his eyes. I’ve never seen a father and son so different from these two.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, to the queen in French. Unlike her husband, she smiles warmly at me.
The King and I exchange greetings, and his expression doesn’t change at all. I’m also introduced by Eugene to two other royal cabinet members. Both are tall men in their fifties with elegant greying hair and expensive suits. I immediately forget their names and positions.
Well, looks like we’re going to be speaking French the whole time.
Eugene starts explaining various little details about this particular gate, and I realize that this isn’t some walk around the garden with Luke—this is a full-fledged royal introduction and tour of the palace grounds.
I really wish I had some way to steal back to my room to change. I’m going to look ridiculous. God, I hope there aren’t any photographers.
Eventually after many minutes of Eugene’s boring explanations, we make our way out to the grounds.
“I didn’t know this was with your mom and dad,” I finally manage to whisper to Luke, walking along side him on the palace grounds.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t either.”
“But look at what I’m wearing. I look ridiculous.”
He slaps my ass when no one’s looking (I hope). “You look fucking sexy. I want to rip those tights open and take you
behind that outcropping of bushes over there.”
I sigh. Not that it doesn’t sound sexy as hell to have the prince say that to me, but I’m acutely aware of how silly I look. I notice the members of the royal cabinet giving me occasionally disapproving glances. The King and Queen seem too polite to actually really look carefully at what I’m wearing, but I’m sure they noticed. How could they not?
As my brain’s struggling a little with Eugene’s French (the accent and vocabulary is quite different from the regular French I’m used to), I suddenly realize that I just called Luke “the prince” to myself.
I guess it is kind of hot he’s a real prince. I’d never really thought of it much before, especially out in Texas, when he was hanging out all day in an RV. But now he’s here in his natural habitat, and it’s impossible to ignore that fact that he’s the prince, especially considering his semi-military looking royal uniform. He’s got his hair combed and he’s cleanly shaved for the first time since I’ve seen him. He looks fucking hot.
Finally, the tour is over, and I’m left standing with Luke on the admittedly incredibly beautiful palace grounds. There are gardens all around us, with exotic plants. The mountains in the distance are forested and immensely tall.
Luke leans in and kisses me. “I hope that wasn’t too bad.”
“No,” I say. “I just hope I can make up for what I wore this morning at the lunch.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Just wear that dress you had on the other day. You’ll look fine.”
“You really know nothing about women’s clothes, do you?”
“I don’t know anything about any sort of clothes. Except I know what you look sexy in.”
“And what’s that?”
“Just about everything. But especially those pants.”
He’s got his hand cupping my butt, squeezing it tightly, and I feel my nipples start to harden as a warm feeling runs through my middle.
17.
Luke
“I want to fuck you right here in the garden,” whispers Rebecca in my ear.
I laugh. “That’d be one for the papers,” I say. “Prince bangs American in royal gardens. Onlookers furious.”
She blushes.
“No,” I say. “I like the idea. But we’ve got the royal lunch to get ready for.”
“Since when are you one to follow the rules or the schedule?”
Just then, we’re interrupted by Eugene who comes back breathless. “Miss Rebecca,” he says, using English again, which I’m glad about, since it makes me feel more comfortable for some reason. “There’s a royal seamstress waiting for you in your room.”
I laugh out loud. “I guess they did notice the leggings you’re wearing.”
She looks horribly embarrassed, and I feel a little bad, so I put my arm around her, pulling her close to me. Her breasts squish up against my chest, and feel fucking great.
“It’s just that they want you to have something suitable for the lunch so you don’t feel out of place.”
“Great,” she says.
Just now, my phone starts ringing. I grab it and check the caller ID.
“It’s Sebastian!” I cry, excitedly.
“You mean that asshole who you got in a fight with?”
“Yeah, but we’re always getting into fights.”
“I think that was the first and final fight you had with him, sir,” says Eugene.
“Shut up, Eugene,” I say.
“Sea-bass!” I yell into the phone, clicking the big green answer button. “What’s going on, my man?”
“Just calling to holler at a brother prince, my man,” says Sebastian. There’s all kinds of noise in the background. It sounds like he’s at a pretty wild party, but it’s only noon here. I check my watch, but completely forget what time it would be in The States.
“Where the fuck are you, dude?”
“I’m in fucking Denmark, dude!”
“Denmark! What the hell, man? I’m back in Europe, too.”
“I know, man. Your name is all over the papers. I figured you’d have to be back in Liseria by now.”
“Only because I had to beat your ass out there in Texas.”
“You barely touched me, man,” he says.
“Listen, why don’t you come over to Liseria?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, man. Listen, I’ll send you the address.”
“Of your palace?”
“Of course. We’ll have a fucking blast.”
He agrees, and I hang up the phone to see Rebecca and Eugene staring at me wide-eyed.
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Eugene starts saying, but I brush him off.
“You’re inviting Sebastian over?” says Rebecca, looking worried or sad. I can’t tell.
“Yeah, what’s the big deal?”
“I thought this was just going to be between us…a little vacation.”
“It is, baby,” I say, using my most convincing princely tones. “But I just couldn’t let a brother hang like that.”
“Stop trying to sound like an American,” she says. “You sound like an idiot and an asshole.”
And with that, she storms off, Eugene giving me a puzzled and exasperated look, before following her off. She doesn’t even know how to get back to the palace grounds, probably, so he’s got to escort her there, but I can tell he’s worried about Sebastian coming over. After all, Sebastian and I have a way of getting up to no good.
An hour later, we’re all sitting around a big table full of boring old men and women. My parents are both seated at the head of the table, and my dad’s of course wearing his ridiculous crown and scowling at everyone.
Rebecca shows up about five minutes late and gets a glare from my dad—what an asshole.
She’s seated across the table from me, but she looks fucking stunning in what appear to be some kind of Liserian gown. Honestly the dress is ugly as fuck, but she still manages to make it hot as fuck. Her tits are looking just perfect, and I can even catch a glimpse of some side boob action going on. What a fucking site.
Belinda is seated next to me and she keeps whispering into my ear little pieces of absolute nonsense, stuff about how she loves Liseria or some shit like that.
“Cut out the shit,” I say to her, and she giggles like it’s the funniest thing anyone’s ever said.
Rebecca glares at me, and I realize she’s going to think the worst about this Belinda character sitting next to me. I guess she’s still pissed about whatever it was earlier in the day—oh yeah, Sebastian’s coming.
Fuck, that’s going to be awesome. I mean, I want to spend time with Rebecca, but I don’t see why the three of us can’t hang and party a bit before getting down to the dirty business with Rebecca at night. I mean, fuck, this fucking palace needs some livening up, and Sebastian’s just the guy to do it.
I half-hope he decides to smuggle in a little bit of weed—it’s not like I can get any here. But on the other hand, there’s a good chance he’s going to get into a lot of trouble if he tries to smuggle some in here. I figure it’s worth the risk though, now that I think about it for another moment—shit, I should have mentioned it to him on the phone. Then again, knowing Sebastian, he’ll think of it himself…hopefully.
Under the table, I try to reach out to play a bit of footsie with Rebecca, but either the table’s simply too wide and I can’t reach her, or she’s pulling her feet away from me, away from my reach.
I look over at her. Her head’s turned to the side, as she addresses my dad. Her face looks perfect, framed that way from the side, the light streaming in, touching her hair just fucking right.
I had no idea she knew so much French. I guess all she had to do was warm up a bit, because now she’s speaking it as fluently as a Frenchman. Her accent is a bit strange for us Liserians, but we should be used to regular French at this point.
“Yes,” my father’s saying, looking surprised himself at Rebecca’s s
uperb French. “That’s a very interesting analysis on Liseria’s current relationship with French. And you’re spot on about the language.” He actually laughs here, chuckling. He’s fucking laughing! I haven’t seen him laugh since…well, fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh. “And don’t worry, your French is already excellent, and I’m sure you’ll be picking up the rather peculiar nuances of our dialect by the end of the week.”
What the fucking fuck? She’s charming the pants off this old fucker. I’ve never seen my dad be so open to a foreigner, let alone anyone, in…well, ever.
My mom is drooling all over Rebecca too. She’s hanging on every word Rebecca’s saying, and it sounds like Rebecca must have really read up on Liseria. Last I knew she didn’t know the place existed, and now she’s sounding off like a seasoned professor or something. I knew she was smart, but I didn’t know she was this smart. What’s she been doing wasting her time in some office?
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Covertly, I look at it under the table.
“On the fucking way, dude!!!” writes Sebastian in all caps.
18.
Rebecca
The French is flooding back. Thank God, or I’d be lost at this luncheon without it.
The lunch is actually going really well, better than I ever could have hoped. The king and queen seem to really like me, or maybe they’re just being friendly. They were more than surprised when I started speaking fluent French, and honestly so was I. I thought I’d forgotten all of it.
I tend to have a strong memory, so I sprinkle some facts from an article I skimmed into my conversation, and the king is just tripping over himself trying to congratulate me on my knowledge of foreign affairs. Maybe he’s just not used to foreigners knowing anything about Liseria, or maybe he really just thinks all of us Americans are as dumb as rocks. Who knows? But who cares? It’s working.
Luke, though, is pretending like he’s not playing with his phone under the table. I can’t believe he invited Sebastian to Liseria during the time I’m visiting. I mean, I really thought this was time for the two of us to get to know each other better, and hopefully start a longer more serious relationship. I wasn’t sure at first, but now that I’m here, I still can’t keep my eyes off Luke (even when he’s behaving like an asshole, as he has today, inviting Sebastian over, for instance), but not only that…it’s just that I feel like there’s a real connection forming between us. Neither one of us has spoken a word about it to the other. I just hope he’s feeling the same thing.
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