Letters from a Prince: The Royals of Heledia (Book 1)

by Hart, Victoria

  It wasn’t that big of a surprise, all things considered. But pretending it was the country and the palace I missed made it easier to cope with. I could find places around here where I could pretend it was Heledia, but there was nothing here that could replace Nik. And even if I went home and wrote to him right now, I wouldn’t hear back for days. Maybe I should have told him to give me his Skype user name or phone number. But we had such a history when it came to our paper letters, I was afraid video chat or something might ruin it completely. His email wasn’t exactly private, and he wasn’t allowed to use social media, for security reasons.

  It was something to think about whenever I finally got the courage to write him a letter.

  I returned home to find my mother making tea in the old kettle on the stove, which her mother had given her as a graduation gift years and years before I was born.

  “Time zones will mess with you,” my mother said. “I’ll make extra coffee before you head off to school tomorrow.”

  “Might take a little more than that.”

  “At least you’ll have fun stories to tell.”

  The problem was, I really didn’t want to tell them. All my life my mother had wondered why I never talked about Nik. She thought it was unique and cultured to have an international pen pal. She told me my teachers would find it interesting and the other students would be jealous. But for whatever reason, what I had with him was not something I was eager to share with anyone else. Even telling Jess had been difficult. I wondered if it was the same for him. And then that, of course, brought on grueling thoughts of him back at school in France with Hugo and Selene, waiting just around some street corner to swoop in.

  But he had said himself that I had nothing to be jealous of. Did he mean that the way I wanted him to mean it?

  Beyond all this was the bigger issue that he was, you know, going to be king of a country one day and I was barely going to pass my algebra II class before college. We weren’t exactly compatible that way. But stranger things have happened in life, right?

  It was all too much to try and cram in my head and keep organized. I took the cup of tea my mom offered and walked off to curl up in the window seat in my room, which I’d adorned with pillows my grandmother had handed down to me. I loved the way I could peek down at the city through the branches of the tree when it was bare in the winter, and in the summer it was a haven of privacy.

  I sipped my tea all the way down before changing into my cartoon sushi pajamas and crawling into bed, pretending I wasn’t going to wake up to a blaring alarm for school in the morning. I hoped that when I woke up, I would know what I should write him in a letter, if I ever got the courage to send it.

  * * *

  Jess had tried to tell me many times over the years that I’d be more popular if I told people my (other) best friend was a hot prince with an accent. Not that anyone would believe me. But I also didn’t want to make friends by flaunting one of my own. That’s what people like Jennifer McMillan did.

  She’d gone to elementary school with Jess and I, and when Jess and I found ourselves at different schools, Jennifer was…still with me. She was the popular sort, judgmental, and opinionated. Her sneer was never really directed at me – I actually don’t think she even knew I existed. That was, until we found ourselves sitting next to each other every day in homeroom, senior year. Maguire and McMillan. Forced together.

  “For the icebreaker,” said Mrs. Shoemaker, “you’re going to turn to the person next to you, give them a minute or so summary of what you did over the summer, and then share each other’s stories with the class.”

  I absolutely hate ice breakers.

  I turned and there was Jennifer’s lovely, snobby face. High class senior edition.

  “You go first,” I mumbled.

  She didn’t need telling twice as she launched into a story about how she went to the Hamptons for the first time with her grandparents and was forced to go fishing but won a sand castle competition against her cousins. There was also something about sneaking margaritas on the boardwalk and someone getting stung by a jellyfish. I kept the bullet points.

  “Now you go,” she said with mild interest.

  “I-uh, I hung out with some friends.”

  She raised her eyebrows, looking bored.

  “I went to a big party, with diplomats and dignitaries. It was in Europe.”

  She laughed. “Sounds cool.”

  I felt myself blush a little, and smile. She wasn’t looking down her nose at me. She was looking at me like what I was saying was interesting, like it mattered. It was a nice feeling, a cool feeling. Jess had been my only friend for a while, besides Nik, and it was a little intoxicating being interesting to a girl who had been class president four years in a row.

  “Yeah, we took a trip to Heledia,” I said.

  She popped up even more at that.

  “I’ve always wanted to go there,” she said.

  “My dad is the ambassador.”

  “Shut up, I’m so jealous. Do you know anyone cool over there?”

  “Uh, yeah. My one friend, Nik. We’ve been pen pals since like elementary school.”

  “Like, Prince Nikolas?”

  And there it was. But there was no going back. She was a total captive audience and I was loving every second of it. So I told her about some things – but absolutely not the part where I was convinced I was developing some major feelings for him.

  She ate it up and when she repeated it to the class it was with so much excitement you would have thought it was her vacation she was sharing. It felt good.

  * * *

  That afternoon when I got home, there was an airmail letter from Nik waiting for me on the kitchen table.

  My dear Isabel,

  I’m going to completely embarrass myself and admit I’m writing this literally minutes after I said goodbye to you, but I think there might be something charming in that, right? Right? Okay, maybe not. But the truth is I’m very sad we didn’t get more time together while you were here, just the two of us. We’ve always been a sort of ‘stop for a few minutes and say hello’ pair of people and then we have to pour our hearts out in letters later. Which is what I’m doing now, and it’s not as fun as it once was.

  So I have a proposition for you, if you’re willing and have the time. I’ve never been to America (except for that one time when I was a baby and with my parents on a tour, which doesn’t count). I’d like to come visit you, if I can. You can show me your hometown for once and we can have some proper alone time. What do you think? Write me back as soon as you can.

  I’ll just wait here by the mailbox…

  All my thoughts,

  Nik

  I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, and I was eternally grateful that my mother was not there to watch how crazy red my face must have gotten while I was reading.

  He wanted to come visit. Alone. No Hugo or Selene. We could walk around town together, get dinner, look at all the monuments. Do incredibly couple-y things. I knew I should have asked my mother before deciding to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t stop myself. I penned my response quickly, and probably a little sloppily, but he was always good at reading my handwriting and we’d made a joint decision not to ever type our letters.

  I tried to be casual about it as I answered with a yes, and shoved the letter into an envelope quickly. The post had already gone for the day, but bright and early tomorrow it would be waiting to head across the sea to Nik. Maybe my dad could see to it getting there a little sooner. I needed to take a second and calm down before I wore myself out completely.

  There was a lot going through my head. I should plan things to do in case he showed up soon and I didn’t want to look like a moron. Would he stay here or at some fancy hotel? Could I take a few days off school to show him around?

  In the end I settled for taking a breath and squealing quietly with a giant smile on my face.

  * * *

  I did not get a reply from Nik. Inst
ead what I got was my father dragging me out of bed one Saturday morning to tell me we were going to run an errand. My eyes were full of sleep and I groggily complained as he told me to get dressed well and quick and be ready in fifteen minutes. My father does not understand that fifteen minutes is not even enough time to pick out an outfit, but I did my best.

  “Where exactly are you kidnapping me to?” I yawned as we crossed the bridge over the Potomac and into Virginia. Arlington stood off in the distance like a perfect model town under the clear blue sky. We were heading for the airport, I realized.

  “It’s a surprise,” he said.

  “A surprise with Secret Service behind us?”

  He laughed and nodded. Had I been more awake, I probably could have figured it out pretty easily. But I’d been solidly nestled in a lovely dream and my comfy bed before it was all ripped away from me a little too hastily. Besides, I’d been with my father to pick up important diplomats from the airport before – usually people who had children my own age whom I could entertain. But he’d never made such a fuss or secret out of it.

  We entered the international terminal of the airport, a place that had already been swept and was covered with Secret Service agents. It was definitely someone important and I wondered briefly if I should have put a little more thought into what I was wearing, and whether I had got that one strand of hair to lay down on my head properly.

  We went through metal detectors and were escorted out to the tarmac, where a private jet was sitting in wait. This time it was uniformed military officers lining the path up to the steps leading down from the jet. We were directed to halt and the officers, as one, raised their hands in a salute as the passenger on the plane stepped out.

  I just about passed out.

  Nik was standing there, eyes squinting even behind his Ray-Bans in the morning sun. He wore a pressed, pastel button-up and khaki pants, with expensive boat shoes. His shiny iPhone was in his hand and his head was on a swivel, looking over the tarmac below before his eyes landed on my father and me. Several security guards stepped off the plane behind him.

  “Dad! Oh my God,” I hissed. “You could have got me up sooner to be actually, you know, human looking.”

  He just laughed as he stepped forward to take Nik’s outstretched hand in a firm shake. I tried not to watch the muscles across his tanned skin ripple with the effort, where his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow.

  “Good to see you, Your Highness,” my dad said.

  “It’s Nikolas here, sir,” he said with a nod.

  Nik’s face turned to me and he pushed his sunglasses up to sit on the top of his head. His brown eyes dazzled in the sunlight and his smile seemed like it was chiseled from stone. Had he gotten more attractive since I saw him, like three weeks ago? Probably.

  “Isabel,” he said with a smile and offered me a hug.

  I tried not to look too eager when I hugged him but he was so calm and comfortable with it all that it was hard not to rush in and hug him back for as long as I could. Which is not long when you have about twenty security guards and army people standing around, watching your every move.

  “After you,” he said to me, gesturing me forward. I did my best not to trip, walking in front of him.

  “Soo…you’re here,” I said, as we walked back into the airport.

  “I am,” he smiled.

  “In DC,” I said.

  “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah!” I said, too loudly, and cleared my throat. “Could have given a girl a warning to maybe not roll out of bed thirty minutes ago.”

  “I thought it would be better as a surprise,” he said. “Besides, it’s a personal visit. My PR person officially released that I was on vacation in Greece.”

  I tried not to let my heart flutter too much at the idea of this being a secret rendezvous. Which became easy when my father butted in and started talking about sports. Nik was one of the few Europeans I met who actually admitted to liking American sports without worrying about committing some kind of cultural faux pas.

  Nik got into a car with his security and they followed us all the way back to the house, where they let him out as discreetly as possible. He lugged a single duffle bag and a rolling piece of luggage as he eyed the house.

  “I’ve only ever seen these in movies,” he said.

  “Well, here townhouses are pretty common,” I said.

  We walked in to find my mother pulling a quiche out of the oven, with tea set out on the newly cleaned kitchen table. So apparently, me keeping this from my parents had turned into everyone but me knew Nik was coming this weekend. I was waiting for Jess to text me with some kind of “gotcha” message.

  Nik and my mom exchanged greetings in much the same way he’d greeted my dad. They talked for a bit before she ordered everyone to start digging in to the breakfast she’d put together, before it got cold.

  Nik had a compliment for everything. He asked about the paintings on the wall and offered to clean up afterwards, apologizing in advance since he’d never done it before. When I went to show him to the guest bedroom I teased him and his face grew sly.

  “Well,” he said. “I want to make a good impression on your parents…for entirely selfish reasons.”

  With that, he winked at me and walked into the guest room. I felt my face practically catch on fire.

  I walked away to allow him a few moments to get acclimated to what now seemed like our incredibly tacky and not-at-all-suitable guest bedroom. I shuffled downstairs quickly to where my parents were talking as if nothing at all had happened.

  “What the heck, guys?” I asked.

  “We thought it would be a nice surprise,” my mom said. “Besides, he’s never been to America and you’ve got the weekend, so why not?”

  “Could have warned me a little when you told me it was fine that I wore my cardigan with the coffee stain?”

  My dad didn’t even try to disguise the fact that he was laughing to himself at the whole thing. My mom shrugged as she went to drop the dirty dishes in the sink.

  “I hardly see why it matters,” she said.

  “Well what am I supposed to do with him? Is he expecting something? Do we have dinner reservations? Should I—“

  “Take a breath, dear.”

  “Right.”

  I let out a long sigh and dropped down into one of the empty kitchen seats. I tried not to look as stressed out as I was, because my mother was perceptive. This was all a big laugh to my dad, but my mother always knew me better than I knew myself. If she had even the slightest inkling of what was really going on in my head, I’d never hear the end of it. And she’d never be able to keep it quiet.

  “To answer your questions,” my dad said, “what you do with your weekend is up to you. He didn’t request any plans and I didn’t make any. The security detail will, unfortunately, also be lodging with us and possibly crashing whatever plans you make, but you’re used to that by now.”

  Great, two stone-faced human killing machines pretending to be normal and watching every single move we made. Just what I wanted. But it’s not like I was going to try and make a move or anything, or try and get something to happen. That would be silly. And a little irresponsible. Why on Earth would I—

  “Hello all,” Nik said, entering the kitchen, filling it with the familiar smell of whatever expensive cologne he wore.

  Right. That’s exactly why. He was kind, he was smart, he was my friend, and he had grown up to be a total, undeniable hottie. I hated myself for ever referring to a friend that way but there was no way around it. He was a handsome man. How could I not at least think about it, a little?

  “Settling in, then?” my dad asked.

  “Yes sir. Feels just like home already,” he said.

  “Found the bathroom and toothpaste all right?” my mom asked. He nodded.

  “And with that, how about lunch?”

  “But, dear we just had—“

  “Lunch. Let’s go out and get some.”
>
  I was desperate to get him out of the kitchen and out of the house and generally out of a five-mile radius of anywhere my parents would be. They laughed as I practically dragged him out, and two of the security guards followed us. We stepped out onto the street.

  “Sooo…I really didn’t have a plan,” I said. “But I honestly was not about to spend another five minutes with them, so...”

  “I figured,” he said. “I could go for some coffee. Do you Americans actually have good coffee or is it just that McDonald’s of a café you all love so much?”

  “Starbucks is amazing, you elitist.”

  He laughed and I shoved his shoulder as we began walking down the street.

  “Lucky for you and your oh-so-refined taste buds, I know a place you might like,” I said.

  “Lead the way.”

  We walked down the quiet streets of Capitol Hill on a Saturday morning. The streets were only just becoming covered with a light dusting of fallen leaves and they still had more shade than open areas. In a way it was like walking in town in Heledia. But I knew just one turn and we’d be staring at cars and tourists and flashing cameras and the bustle of the country’s capital. It was nice enough, though.

  “I never imagined Washington, DC, to be so quiet,” he said.

  “Oh trust me, this is deceptive. On a weekday the traffic will make you want to gouge out your eyes and toss them in the Potomac.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Listen, you live on a quiet little island, you do not know road rage,” I said, and he shrugged.

  “Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “Road rage?”

  “The experience,” he said. “Not just to see America, but I’ve always been curious about your life. The things you talk about in your letters. I want to feel like I’m a part of it, for real this time.”

  “Oh.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. He’d been so serious and quiet; it felt very real. He wasn’t looking at me but I saw from his twitchy hands and sideways glances that he wanted to. I remembered what he had said that night, before the party. And afterward, how he whispered in my ear that I had nothing to worry about when it came to Selene. Did he mean that the way I wanted him to? He had to. This couldn’t just all be in my head.