by Kirsten Boie
“Engaging, clever, quick-paced — and well stocked with royals! Jenna will put readers firmly on her side.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A fun, attention-keeping read. For readers who dream of being a royal or singlehandedly saving an entire country from ruin, Boie’s story will hit the spot.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Well crafted, intricate, and suspenseful. For readers who want more from their princesses than sumptuous clothes and first kisses.”
—BCCB
“One part political drama, one part mystery, and one part fairy tale, all included in a very fun read.”
—TeensReadToo.com
Contents
Praise
Title Page
Prologue
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part Two
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Part Three
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
About the Author
Other Titles
Copyright
Scandia was celebrating.
Flags fluttered over the palace, and crowds of people clustered around the stalls and booths lining the boulevard.
“To the king!” they cried, raising their glasses. “To Scandia, united at last! And to a future full of joy and justice for all!”
Children of all backgrounds were playing in the palace park, which had been opened to the public for the first time in the country’s history. Balloons of all colors, dangling messages of goodwill, rose high in the sky, while music blared from loudspeakers up in the trees. Small boys and girls twisted and turned to the tunes, oblivious to everything around them, while older children played ball games on the lawns, yelling at the tops of their lungs and getting grass stains on their best clothes, though today their mothers didn’t seem to mind.
In the midst of the throng stood King Magnus and his sister, Margareta. They shook hands, smiled, and exchanged friendly words with the crowd, while their bodyguards kept a respectful distance. The two princesses — Malena, tall with short blonde hair, and Jenna, brunette and smaller — had separated from them, and were happily waving to people and laughing as children plucked at their skirts or nudged them with their elbows so that they could later say they’d touched royalty. The two girls hummed along with the music from the loudspeakers, and graciously accepted bouquets of flowers, which they then discreetly passed on to their bodyguards.
Just a few paces away walked a dark-haired boy, his eyes always fixed on the smaller of the two girls as she acknowledged the cheers.
“Isn’t it wonderful!” whispered a woman, her head bent over a paper plate on which she was balancing a frankfurter while trying not to spill ketchup over her dress. “Who would ever have thought things would turn out so well after we saw the king go to his grave less than a year ago!”
Her husband skillfully turned over some more franks on a portable barbecue, and took a bottle out of the well-worn cooler he’d put down on the grass beside him.
“When we thought we’d seen the king go to his grave!” he said. “Good to see how happy the little princesses are now, after all they’ve been through. But you’re right: Who’d have thought it?”
The woman stuck the rest of her hot dog in her mouth, looked furtively around to see if anyone was watching, and then quickly licked her fingers. “Is there another one ready?” she asked. “Thank you. And north and south united! Justice at last for the northerners!”
Her husband passed her the ketchup. “Some people won’t be too happy about the election results,” he said. “In fact, some people are going to be very unhappy. They think there are far too many northerners in the government now.”
“Who cares what they think?” the woman said. “There are more northerners in Scandia than southerners, so we’ve just got to get used to it. As our king keeps telling us, we in the south must learn to share our wealth. And now you can see just how happy the country is.”
The man pursed his lips. “Let’s hope so,” he said skeptically. “Let’s just hope so.”
Some distance away from the hustle and bustle, standing in the shade of the tall old cedar trees, a group of men in elegant suits and uniforms gazed out thoughtfully over the lawn as the king came toward them.
“To the happiness of our country!” they said, raising their glasses to the king. “And to our entry at last into the family of free, democratic nations. Long live King Magnus! Long live Princess Margareta! Long live the two princesses!”
“And long live the great and the good of Scandia,” said the king, also raising his glass, “who have so courageously supported these reforms.” Then he turned once more to the crowd and waved them a swift good-bye.
The men watched him go, and no one noticed the wary glances they cast behind his back as they spoke to one another in lowered voices.
The two princesses would have been the last to notice such things anyway. In their billowing dresses they raced across the lawn, almost delirious with joy; they linked arms and laughed and waved to the right and the left, and they thought nothing could go wrong.
As soon as the alarm went off on his cell phone, Jonas was alert. There was no moment of transition, no gray area between asleep and awake, no recollection of a dream.
Almost noiselessly, he swung his legs out of the bed and put on his track pants. Sneakers in hand, he tiptoed to the French door that opened out onto the spiral fire escape. One of his roommates turned over with a soft sigh, and Jonas froze for a second. They still had exactly forty-five minutes’ sleep left, and the others would kill him if he robbed them of it.
The cold metal steps beneath his bare feet still came as a shock. But it’s getting easier, thought Jonas as he reached the last step and stooped to put on his sneakers. These days I’d feel there was something missing from my life if I didn’t go running before school.
Jonas had the world to himself. The air was pure, with the last streaks of morning mist rising knee-high above the wide lawn, behind which stretched the forest. The first wispy clouds seemed to be hanging motionless in the sky, and although the sun’s light was still glassy, almost cool, he could already sense the dawning heat.
He covered the first quarter mile with long strides, pumping his arms in wide circles so that his whole body felt alive; then he began a slow trot. Behind the boys’ wing, the grass sloped gently down over several hundred yards into the valley, where it came to an end as it reached the dense forest. For a few seconds every morning, Jonas stopped to enjoy the view: The forest was dark and endless, but farther off the landscape was dotted wi
th occasional summer-green fields and red-roofed farmhouses, which shone in the morning light. There were lakes, too, large and small, whose surfaces now glittered in the sun. And on the horizon, a yellow-gray haze that hardly ever dispersed, behind which lay the capital and the sea.
Scandia is beautiful, he thought, and began to run a bit faster. Scandia is never so beautiful as it is first thing in the morning. Then he stopped himself. For goodness’ sake, Jonas, focus! he thought. Stop with the sentimental! That’s the last thing you need to be right now.
He pushed himself a bit harder, his springy steps making tiny squelching noises as he ran over the damp grass. He estimated that he was moving faster than on the previous day, and he felt as fresh as if he had only just started out. I’m improving, he thought. Every day. Next time I speak to my dad, I’ve got to tell him. Liron always says it’s important that I be prepared at all times. He can only mean by getting fit, by keeping my eyes open. Well, I’m certainly doing that, and how else can I prepare except by training?
He finally reached the edge of the forest, and started out along the narrow, shadowy path that led through the trees and around the school campus. The security fence was concealed behind the thick foliage, as were the guard posts, which had been doubled since Jenna had arrived almost a year ago. If he had not already known about them, he could have thought there was no one else around for miles.
Last summer, as they had driven to the school, Liron had talked to him about what would happen to the country now that the king had been returned to power. Jonas had been surprised when, halfway into the journey, his father had suddenly swung the car sharply to the right and brought it to a standstill on the sandy shoulder of the road.
“Don’t imagine that it’s all over now, Jonas,” Liron had told him, turning off the engine so that there was no sound other than his voice and the roar of passing cars. “Don’t assume that we’re going to live happily ever after just because the good king is back. It’s only been eight weeks since he was rescued. And this is no fairy tale.”
Jonas had waited, realizing why his father had insisted on driving him to the boarding school himself, without a chauffeur or bodyguards. It wouldn’t have been wise to let them overhear such a conversation. On the blacktop, trucks thundered past, together with a stream of well-polished family sedans out on weekend excursions.
“You must always be prepared, Jonas,” Liron had said. “Just because you can go back to school now and it looks as if the world’s been put right — or is about to be — that doesn’t mean we can relax. We have to be on our guard at all times.”
And then at last he explained to Jonas what he should have told him weeks ago: that the threats to Scandian unity weren’t over yet.
“The king is getting across his message about equal rights for north and south,” he said. “Reform will come. Even the southerners can see they stand to gain by it. And, thanks to you and Jenna and Malena, the immediate crisis is over. But the greedy rich southerners who backed Norlin and helped kidnap the king are still here, and they’re still just as anxious to destabilize the country.”
“But why?” Jonas asked. “And who?”
“If we knew that, I’d feel a lot safer,” Liron answered, and turned on the ignition again to make his way back into the traffic. “I’m going to try to find out. There are a few clues, but not enough. That’s why I keep telling you to be prepared. Anything can happen at any time, and as my son …”
“What happened to Bolström and Norlin?” Jonas had said.
“They’re in exile somewhere in South America.”
“And the rebels?”
“Nahira has sent them all home.”
“What about Jenna?” Jonas asked, and felt a blush rising all the way up his neck.
Near them on the road, the exhaust from a tractor-trailer belched out thick gray clouds, and Liron closed the windows. “Jenna,” he said. “Yes. That’s the only reason I’m happy she’s going to the same school. Keep an eye on her, Jonas.”
Jonas nodded. The road led upward, and around the next bend they would be able to see the school.
“Why are you telling me this now?” asked Jonas. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why did you let me go on thinking that everything was going to be OK once the king was free again?”
“I never had the chance. It was hard enough borrowing the cook’s car to drive you here so we could talk safely. I had to tell her I fell for a girl years ago in exactly this model car — I saw someone use that as a reason in a movie once! The cook’s car won’t be bugged, you see, Jonas, so we’re safe. But where else could we be sure that every word isn’t reaching ears that we don’t want overhearing us?”
Liron had not taken his eyes off the road. “Listen very carefully to what I’m going to say now, Jonas, because I shan’t be able to repeat it. You mustn’t tell anyone, and maybe what I’m about to do is crazy.” He said nothing for a moment. “But just in case anything should happen to me …”
They had reached the top of the hill, and the green countryside stretched far and wide before them; they could already see the gate, with the flag of Morgard flying. “Listen carefully. But don’t tell anyone!”
“But why …?” Jonas had asked.
“If something happens to me, just think about these three questions,” Liron persisted. “One: What came three years after the kingdom of Scandia conquered North Island?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jonas. “Are you giving me a history lesson now?”
“Just think about these questions if something happens to me,” Liron repeated. “OK? Number two: Which was the highest building in Scandia for a long time, and why?”
“So it is a history lesson!” said Jonas. “Dad! You may as well just tell me now …”
Liron put the car into a lower gear. “And the last question is: What have dwarfs and wonders got in common?”
“Dwarfs and wonders?” repeated Jonas. “You cannot be serious! Does this have to do with fairy tales or something?”
Liron smiled. They were almost at the school gates, and Jonas knew he was not going to get any more information out of his dad. “Don’t forget the questions!” was all Liron said.
They had reached the school, and Jonas had spent the rest of the trip in silence. After the liberation battle in Saarstad, he had really thought it was all over, and that they had won — for good. How stupid he’d been.
Or maybe he hadn’t.
Jonas was now running at a steady pace through the forest. That conversation was more than six months ago, he thought, and nothing bad has happened since then. He was beginning to think that Liron had been paranoid, imagining another plot. Besides, his father never actually said a word about how he should prepare, or what he should prepare for — nothing except that he had to remember those three crazy questions!
For a few yards, the path through the trees ran close to the security fence, and between the trunks Jonas could see barbed wire stretched above the outward-leaning spikes. Then he was back again in the depths of the forest.
Dad has spent most of his life living in fear, and he sees ghosts around every corner, Jonas mused. But nothing bad has happened recently. The elections have come and gone. We have members of parliament from north and south. The new government has started passing laws to make things fairer, and he’ll soon get everything he’s ever fought for. Anyway, he hasn’t said another word about it since that conversation. So maybe everything’s all right now. Maybe there’s no need for me to get up at the crack of dawn every day to go running.
Jonas could see the school lake shimmering through the trees. He upped the pace for the homestretch. As he came closer, the whole campus lay before him: the main building behind the lake, with the girls’ wing to the right and the boys’ to the left, the tennis courts, lacrosse and football fields, the track, and the 25-meter swimming pool. Through the open windows on the ground floor came the sound of cutlery on china, as the first students sat down to breakfast in the cafe
teria.
Outside the boys’ wing, he put his hands on his knees and breathed deeply. Come on, admit it, he thought. You’re not just training for Dad. If you were, you’d have started right back in the autumn after he gave you that warning, not waited till the spring. So admit why you really get up and go for a run so early. Can’t you be honest, at least with yourself?
Jenna.
Why shouldn’t he keep an eye on her? Liron said he should. And Jonas knew she sometimes went running before breakfast. He’d heard the other girls sneering about how she was trying to get rid of her “northern fat.”
He went through the front entrance of the building. He was breathing easily now, so maybe he should increase the distance tomorrow. All the corridors were buzzing with life, voices, laughter. If he was late, Perry would save a place for him in the cafeteria.
Jenna. He thought about her again, and was shocked at the effect her name had on him.
The midday sun blazed high above the suburban gardens — already way too hot for early June. Heavy-headed roses hung limply from their bushes, and only heavy-duty watering in the evening could prevent them from withering on the branch. Jasmine and hawthorn poured out their scents all across the yellowed patches of parched lawn.
“Don’t be such a girl!” said Bea. “If you insist on whining sans cesse about how all things princess are forever stressing you, then just jail-break out the window with me already! Let’s be, like, normal for a whole afternoon, without your bodyguards breathing down our necks.”
