Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
ELLA
The scenery outside the car window rolls by in reverse order from my bus trip up to Langford Castle eleven days ago.
My fingers close around my backpack strap, loosen, and then tighten again as I try my best not to cry in the backseat of the royal car.
Being marginally connected to the royal family for the past two weeks might not have fundamentally altered the trajectory of my life, but it did give me enough of an in with the guards and chauffeurs for them to agree to take me to the airport upon request.
Or maybe the Queen told them to take me away.
Humbling thought, that.
A red light slows us down, and I watch people dressed in various team colors cross the pedestrian lane while we wait.
There’s old fans and young fans. There’s a toddler tired enough to be dozing off in his stroller while an older sibling pushes the thing forward with all energy and zero finesse.
Do they call those things strollers or prams in Northandria?
For a quick second, I try to remember, just to make sure I say the right words the next time I am on duty.
Then I remember that I will never be on duty again.
Because the real princess is back. I was just the girl sent to return the ring. A messenger turned temporary substitute.
There will be no more royal duties, no more royal balls, and most definitely no more royal prince.
The light turns green, and the car rolls forward towards the airport.
Given how expensive the seasonal surcharges could get, I never did expect to stay the full length of the Carvarell Games.
Now it just feels like a sad sort of kismet that I never did remember to change my ticket.
My scheduled flight isn’t until 10 p.m., but maybe they’ll let me move to an earlier flight if I cry hard enough.
It’s not going to be hard doing that.
The one souvenir I never expected to be taking home is a broken heart.
The royal driver is an expert (as expected) and soon manages to squeeze me into a private, side curb near the departure gate. Pennsten Airport may be the primary, central airport for Northandria, but it’s only about as big as the one back home in Ground Springs. The one where I first met Archer.
I flick away a few more tears.
My phone rings just as the driver departs.
I didn’t pack anything other than the essentials I stuffed into my backpack, not with all the other loaned items mixed up with my stuff.
The last thing I want is to be labelled a royal thief.
Even if I did come a little close to hyperventilating when I had to slip off the ring.
But just like the prince it represented, it was never mine to keep. At least I knew better than to bring it along the way Princess Kya did.
My phone keeps buzzing. I glance at the name, suppress a sob, and answer.
“What’s this I hear about you disappearing?” Alya’s voice blasts through the speaker, borderline hysterical. It makes me feel a little guilty.
“I’m not,” I say.
“Then where are you?”
“I’m—” I look around me. There’s not as much of a tourist rush as those few days leading up to the Opening Ceremonies.
But it’s still on the busy side. At least, I think it is.
This isn’t exactly my backyard. “I asked Anselm if he could arrange for the rest of my things to be packed and shipped back to the US. I hope that wasn’t overstepping. ”
“You are leaving?”
“Just—”
Just going back to where I belong. To a distinctly non-royal life.
“I know when I’m not needed anymore.” The statement comes out more dramatic than I expected. I try to fix it. “Of course, I’m incredibly thankful for your family’s hospitality all this time. You’ve given me an experience that—”
“We don’t care about any of that!” Alya shouts.
I wonder for a moment if she’s rampaging around her own rooms or doing this in the hallways, probably giving her mother a heart attack.
I almost smile. Then the sadness hits again when I remember that I’ll never know.
The princess of Northandria, no matter how down to earth, is not going to be my BFF.
We were just colleagues who got along for the last ten days.
“Look, Ella, wherever you are, just get back here because I’m sure we can fix this mess. ”
It’s a nice offer—but it’s not an offer from the one person who actually has the right to ask me to stay. And as much as I love Alya, I’ve learned firsthand that she is probably the last person to trust about what exactly the royal family wants.
“It’s alright. Don’t worry about me.” I’ll just cry myself to sleep for the next month or so and hope I don’t spiral. “Just—help your brother.”
“My dumb brother needs you.”
No, he doesn’t. Maybe for a short time, to bail him out.
Not in the long run, not for the long term. I’ve never been the type to be easily hurt, but a girl’s got her pride. And I know better than to test the limits of that pride by outstaying my welcome.
“Please send him my regards,” I say like some ancient heroine. “Bye, Alya. Thanks for everything.”
I end the call and turn on Airplane Mode. Saying goodbye to Northandria is becoming harder than I ever imagined it would be. I’ll miss the mountains and the gardens. I’ll miss the fashion and the history.
I’ll miss Alya, and even the Queen. I’ll miss the unique blend of formality and belonging that the whole Penderson family seems to represent.
And I’ll miss Archer, with the entirety of my being. But life doesn’t care what you miss. It just keeps moving on. So just like I had to do four years ago, I swallow my tears, draw together every bit of courage I have, and step inside the airport.