Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ARCHER
The press, and the odd prestige magazine feature, might make it look like extravagant dinner parties are part of the perks of royal blood.
But really, it’s all just a job. Even without the formal introductions of a state banquet, there is something in me that snaps into working prince mode the moment we step into the tasteful reception hall designated for the pre-games soirée.
“Your Highness,” the Northandrian nobles greet me with perfectly angled head bows or excellent curtsies.
“Archer,” the other kings and queens greet me, when I greet them with all the proper courtesies.
Step after step, we wade deeper into the clusters of people. Not everyone requires a personal greeting, but I do exchange acknowledgments of some sort with every person we encounter, even if it’s just a wordless half-nod.
The people all do a remarkable job of keeping their curiosity over Ella in check.
This might well be the most exclusive gathering in Northandria tonight.
But while other get-togethers might involve loud bar crawls or just a family lounging around their TV set, for the royals, exclusive tends to mean the opposite of informal.
So instead of there being a more relaxed atmosphere, there is actually more protocol to follow than usual.
I’m impressed to see how thoroughly Ella has been prepped, given how seamlessly she blends in.
Even after a whole day of beautifying, she comes across as understated and sweet.
She looks elegant in the blue dress, especially with the Langford Brooch adding a touch of the Old World to her outfit.
And she executes pretty little curtsies whenever I introduce her to someone, even if I can feel her fingers trembling in the crook of my arm.
A part of me is eager to show her off, to sort of prove to everyone that the paparazzi’s worries were unfounded.
Prince Archer’s fiancée is real, and she is the picture of feminine grace.
All those speculations about whether or not the Crown Prince of Northandria would ever settle down are just useless gossip.
But a wiser part of me reminds myself that, given the temporary arrangement of our supposed engagement, it’s probably better not to insist Ella meet too many of my sundry relations.
This is a charade for the duration of the games.
I don’t have to treat her like she will actually be part of the family one day.
I make sure to pay my respects to the King of Argenterre, Greg’s father, noting momentarily how much thinner he looks compared to last year, before guiding Ella to a discreet alcove to the side of the room.
She releases a long, drawn-out breath as soon as we’re truly alone.
“Are you alright?” I ask, making sure to speak to her sideways, with our bodies angled towards the room. It’s not appropriate to be huddled in a private conversation in a situation like this.
“Yes, of course.” She looks at me, her eyes bright. I’ve always remembered the girl from the airport to be pretty. But made up like this, she strikes me as beautiful in a more timeless way. “Did I pass my test?”
“Your test?”
“All the curtsies and bows—I tried my best to remember everything Janet told me, but it’s my first chance to practice with real dignitaries and nobles.”
“They assigned you Janet Qi?”
“Yes.”
“The woman is terrifying.”
Ella’s face turns a little sheepish. “So it wasn’t just a me problem.”
“No.” I almost want to shout for my mother and ask her what she was thinking assigning such a stern handler to Ella. Alya almost ran away twice back when she was training with Janet. “You’re a brave soul.”
Ella smiles, and I forget momentarily that we’re not alone talking in the gardens after hours, that there are a hundred noble guests crowded with us into this reception hall.
There’s just something serene about Ella, something that draws me in quietly, no matter if we’re in a regional American airport or one of the most storied parts of a centuries-old castle.
“There you are!” A loud male voice accompanies a broad shadow that suddenly stands between us and the rest of the room.
Eds, bedecked in proper evening wear this time, grins at Ella.
Apparently, he has a lot less respect for protocol than she does.
“I am Ed—or, as some say—Prince Eduardo Mondecci of Sanbellini, among other things.” He winks at her.
I want to punch him. “And you, must be the beautiful Miss Langford.”
Ella curtsies, the perfect pupil. “Good evening, Your Highness.”
“Call me Eds.” He winks again. I really want to punch him.
I know it’s just Eds being himself. The man cannot breathe without flirting.
But this is my fiancée he is flirting with.
Sure, she’s just a fake fiancée. But Eds doesn’t know that.
“Resident charmer and troublemaker. You know, in case Archer here proves to be the bore he always is.”
“Eds,” I warn. I can take his joking in private.
That’s how things have always been with us since boarding school.
Everyone says they are just treating you like a regular student, but only a fellow prince can truly share the same life experiences, or at least some semblance of them.
But we are at a very formal event. “Be better.”
“What? Even more gallant and charming?” He grins, knowing full well that 90% of women readily swoon at his Mediterranean good looks. “It is my day off, but I can make some effort for Ella here.”
“Stop teasing them.” Greg steps into our circle before I can reply. Greg’s soft blond hair has been styled more formally, but he still looks the youngest among us. “Good evening, Miss Langford, I am Gregory. I am honored to meet you.”
“Your Highness.” She displays her excellent ability to infer who Greg is.
Greg responds with a slight bow of the head. At least some of us appreciate order and tradition.
“I hope you have been enjoying Northandria,” Greg says affably. The guy is always affable, almost disarming. I guess it comes with the territory of not being in the direct line of succession.
“I have, thank you,” Ella answers sweetly. “Everyone has been excessively kind.”
“I don’t think Arch is capable of anything excessive,” Eds says. “The man is made of stone.”
“Not at all,” Ella replies readily, “Prince Archer has been very thoughtful.”
I think of how I’ve basically ignored Ella between the day she walked into that fated press room and our chance garden walk last night. I feel a pang of guilt and resolve to do better. At least I did get her the Langford Brooch.
“Thoughtful is nice,” Eds quips. “But not particularly passionate.”
“Eds!” I hiss.
“Tell me, dear,” Eds continues talking to Ella, “just how did the Ice Prince propose? I can’t imagine this man getting down on one knee.”
“Oh.” Ella looks at me, eyes panicked. It occurs to me that we probably should have picked a better liar for the job. Not that we were actually intentionally looking for a pretend princess. “I, uhm, well—”
“By letter, actually,” I say, “for most of our relationship—we’ve been on opposite sides of the Atlantic.”
Ella swallows visibly and says nothing.
“Letters? Are you ancient?”
“Some might consider it a romantic gesture.”
“I guess the best part is that there’s no kneeling involved for you,” says Eds.
“It is not always necessary to kneel,” Ella says. Why she is defending is beyond me. It is an admirable, if slightly useless, campaign against the force of nature that is Eds.
“Is that what he tells you?” Eds grins.
“Hey, two o’clock,” Greg says in a hurried whisper.
We all stop as I peek over Eds' shoulder. My throat tightens. We’ve been told that no one from the Drennean royal family was attending, given the bad blood over Princess Kya’s recent escape.
An ambassador was supposed to represent.
But at least I can only see the Queen of Drenland, and not Princess Kya’s parents, who had been far more vocal about the match.
“Do you think they’ve found her yet?” Greg asks quietly.
I don’t know. I don’t know if they’ve found the runaway princess.
But I assume that the queen is here to make sure that everything looks as normal as possible.
Isn’t that half the job of any royal family in today’s world?
The British say to keep calm and carry on.
For some, that’s a meme to play on for a marketing slogan.
For people like us, that’s a mantra for running every single day of our lives.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’ll send Sven to find out.”