CHAPTER 3 #3
“No, it certainly isn’t.” She was silent for a moment, studying my face like she was trying to figure out how much to tell me. "Valdoria is in a precarious position," she said finally. "We're small, wealthy, and strategically located. That makes us both valuable and vulnerable."
She opened one of the folders on her desk and showed me a map of Europe with various shipping routes marked in different colors.
"These are the energy supply lines that keep Europe running," she said, pointing to the routes that passed through Valdorian waters. "Oil from the Middle East, natural gas from North Africa. Alternative supplies that bypass Russian-controlled pipelines."
"And Putin wants to control them."
"Putin wants to control everything. But specifically, he wants to ensure that European countries have no choice but to buy energy from Russia.
" She flipped to another page showing naval positioning.
Another cough escaped her, and she reached for her water glass.
"We don't have months to negotiate and plan.
We have weeks before Putin moves. Every day of delay increases the risk. "
"What kind of action?"
"The kind that would give him de facto control over shipping lanes."
I studied the maps and charts, beginning to understand the scope of what was at stake.
"We’re not the only European country that Putin is looking at. Solmarina is facing a similar threat from Putin’s forces. A union between our two nations would have made both countries stronger, but not strong enough.”
“Okay,” I said not sure where she was going with this.
“There are some people in both our governments that think we should protect our people by allying with Russia or their allies.”
I shook my head. “They’re the bad guys.”
She gave me a small smile. “I’m glad you agree. Valdoria is now in a unique situation. The heir to our country has been raised in America and has American ties.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “So?”
“So if the heir of Valdoria marries the heir of Solmaria, it gives the world the idea that America is not invested in our two countries.”
“Hold the phone,” I said, raising my hand.
The Grand Duchess spoke over me. “The American Congress has pre-approved a defense pact with Valdoria and Solmarina.
But in order to not squander resources, they want a royal marriage that demonstrates permanent commitment between our nations.
" She closed the folder and looked directly at me.
"Your marriage to Prince Archibald Falcieri of Solmarina creates that alliance. "
The silence stretched between us while I processed this information.
"You want me to marry a complete stranger ten seconds after I find out that I’m a princess and heir to the throne of Valdoria?"
"I want you to marry a prince to protect both our countries from Russian aggression."
I thought about the fragments I'd overheard on the plane, about Captain Steiner's increasingly urgent phone calls, about the weight of centuries of history and politics settling on my shoulders. My shoulders, which until this morning had only been responsible for carrying a coffee tray.
"What if I say no?"
The Grand Duchess's expression hardened slightly. "That would be terribly unfortunate."
"Unfortunate how."
"Unfortunate for international stability. Unfortunate for the security of smaller European nations. And unfortunately, potentially quite dangerous for Bob and Linda Montclair."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Are you threatening my parents?"
"I'm explaining the legal reality of your situation.
" She pulled out another folder and opened it to reveal official-looking documents.
"International law is very clear about kidnapping cases.
The people who harbored a kidnapped royal heir could face serious charges, regardless of whether they knew about the child's true identity. "
My stomach dropped. "They had no idea I was kidnapped."
"Intent isn't always relevant in international law. They harbored a kidnapped princess for twenty years. That's a crime in most countries, including this one."
"But you just said the investigation found no trace of me anywhere. How could they be held responsible for something that was completely untraceable?"
"New evidence has a way of emerging when it becomes politically necessary."
She was blackmailing me. My newfound grandmother was threatening the two people I loved most in the world. And here I'd been starting to feel sorry for her.
"You were six months old when Catherine and Philippe died. You barely over a year when you disappeared. What do you really know about the people who raised you?"
"I know they're good people who love me. I know they make terrible casseroles but pretend to enjoy each other's cooking. I know they've never missed a single one of my birthdays, even the one where I insisted on a unicorn-themed party at age nineteen."
"Love doesn't erase the legal reality of their situation."
I stared at her, trying to process what she was suggesting. Mom and Dad involved in something sinister? It was impossible. Ridiculous. But the Grand Duchess looked deadly serious, and she had the resources to make their lives miserable even if the charges were completely fabricated.
"You're threatening my family."
"I'm explaining the consequences of your choices."
The room fell silent except for the ticking of an antique clock on the mantelpiece. Through the tall windows, I could see gardens where I'd apparently played as a toddler, before my world had been turned upside down the first time.
Now it was happening again. Except this time, I was old enough to be annoyed about it.
"Six months," I said finally. “And the marriage is in name only?”
"Excuse me?"
"If I do this, if I marry this prince and play the part of the happy political bride, it's for six months. After that, I get a divorce and go home."
She was silent for a moment, and then quickly agreed. “Very well.”
I wasn’t expecting total capitulation without a fight. Maybe that was long enough to distract Putin to another country. Or maybe once NATO got her, they would stay.
"And will my parents be safe?"
"Completely safe."
"And at the end of six months, will I be free to leave and return to my real life?"
"Of course, but I hope you’ll decide to stay and help rule your country."
“I don’t know the first thing about that.”
“You’ll learn.”
“Will I?”
“You have six months to experience how royalty lives.”
I didn’t like this, but I thought about Putin, about Ukraine, about smaller countries being swallowed up by larger ones with more guns and fewer scruples. I thought about my Mom and Dad. I didn't really have a choice.
"If this marriage helps stop Putin from invading more countries, then I guess I can survive six months of being married to some stuffy prince. How bad can it be?"
Famous last words.
Relief flickered across the Grand Duchess's features. "I knew you'd understand."
"I don't understand any of this. But I'll do it."
"Excellent. There are some documents to formalize your agreement to the arrangement.
" She pulled out a thick stack of papers from her desk drawer, official-looking documents in what appeared to be multiple languages.
"Standard for international marriage agreements, inheritance rights, diplomatic status. All perfectly routine."
I flipped through the stack. There was text in English, Italian, and what looked like legal Latin. "There are a lot of pages here."
"Royal marriages involve complex legal frameworks. Property rights, succession laws, treaty obligations." She handed me an expensive-looking pen. "I know it's overwhelming, but it's all standard diplomatic language."
"Should I actually read all of this? Because I have to admit, legal documents in three different languages aren't exactly my specialty. Neither is Latin. Or international law. Or being a princess, now that I think about it."
"The lawyers have reviewed everything thoroughly.
It's all perfectly standard, just formalizing your status as Princess of Valdoria and establishing the terms of the marriage alliance.
" A slight cough interrupted her. "Though if you insist on reading every clause, we could be here until Putin invades the Mediterranean. "
I looked at the stack of papers, then at the Grand Duchess's expectant expression. "You know what they say about not reading the fine print. But I suppose I should trust that European royalty has better lawyers than most people."
"We have the best lawyers money can buy."
I signed where she indicated, feeling like I was signing my life away. Which, I supposed, was. For six months, anyway.
"There will be preparations, of course. Protocol lessons, wardrobe consultations, briefings on Solmarina's political situation. You'll need to be ready to convincingly play the role of a princess in love."
"In love."
"The marriage must appear genuine to be effective. An obviously political arrangement would undermine the message we're trying to send to the world."
Great. So not only did I have to marry a stranger, I had to pretend to be in love with him. Maybe I could take acting lessons alongside the training. A whole royal makeover montage.
"What's he like?”
"He was educated at Oxford, speaks four languages, excellent horseman. He takes his duties to his country very seriously."
That told me exactly nothing about his personality. "Is he nice?"
"He's a prince, darling. Nice isn't really the point."
Right. I was going to marry someone based on his political utility rather than whether he was a decent human being. Very romantic. Very fairy tale. If fairy tales were written by diplomats with security clearances.
But as I looked at the Grand Duchess, really looked at her, I noticed the subtle signs of strain I'd been picking up throughout our conversation. The way she occasionally pressed her hand to her chest, the slight tremor in her fingers when she reached for documents, the careful way she moved.
"Are you all right?" I asked. "You seem..."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, but the response came too fast, too defensive.
"Grand Duchess, if there's something wrong..."
"Nothing that can't wait." She stood, effectively ending that line of conversation. "I'd like to show you to your room now. You must be exhausted from the journey."
"Yeah," I said. "I am. I need to process all of this. Possibly with a large glass of wine. Or several."
"Of course. Captain Steiner will show you up."
Captain Steiner appeared as if she'd been waiting outside the door, which she probably had. We walked through more marble corridors and up a grand staircase that belonged in a museum, finally stopping at a door that opened onto a suite larger than my parents' entire house.
The room was beautiful in an intimidating way: antique furniture, silk wallpaper, windows that looked out over gardens that probably employed a dozen people. And there, hanging above a delicate writing desk, was a portrait.
My parents. My birth parents. Looking young and happy and completely unaware that they were going to die before they got a chance to truly life.
I walked closer to the painting, studying every detail. Catherine's smile, Philippe's protective hand on her shoulder, the way they looked at each other like they were sharing a private joke. They looked like people I would have liked to know.
They looked like people I was never going to get the chance to know.
What would my life have been like had they lived and I grew up a princess? Would I know Prince Falcieri? Would we have been betrothed at a young age? Would I be more worried about Russian aggression and feel a deep responsibility to the Valdorian people? It was all so strange to think about.
I sank into the chair beneath the portrait and pulled out my phone to call Mom and Dad again. I needed to hear their voices. But first, I had to figure out how to tell them I was getting married to a prince for six months.
This was definitely not covered in any of the life skills classes I'd taken at community college. Though to be fair, neither was "what to do when you discover you're secretly royalty" or "how to prevent international incidents through strategic marriage."
Maybe I should suggest they add those to the curriculum.