Chapter 23Amelia
Chapter 23
Amelia
This just in. This royal correspondent has received reports of a yellow Ferrari being driven by a handsome young man meeting Prince Max’s description in Malveaux. It was spotted in the small town of Montelac.
Coincidence? Perhaps. But we all know everyone’s favorite royal bachelor has a fondness for ostentatious vehicles.
But this does beg the question, what is our prince doing in a town so far off the tourist map?
Certainly Montelac is located on a very picturesque lake where they’re about to hold their annual Festival of Lake Lights. Could Max be there for the festivities?
Or, far more tantalizingly, could this be where the princess has been hiding out all along in plain sight? And now that Max has appeared, could it be that he’s in town to rescue his sister from the clutches of an evil meditating kidnapper?
I don’t know about you, but I have a sudden urge to take a dip in a mountain-fed lake in Malveaux.
Watch this space, fellow royal spotters.
Yours quickly packing her suitcase,
Fabiana Fontaine xx
#MaxOnAMission
#PrincessRescue
#DontChooseAYellowFerrariIfYouWantToHide
“Tell me, Max. Do you like him? As in really like him?” I ask, my heart in my throat as I wait to hear my brother’s verdict.
I've had to wait a full day to hear this verdict, thanks to the fact Max took off in his ever so subtle yellow Ferrari soon after he'd had his “little chat” with Ethan on the lake shore. He said it was to put the media off, but I imagine any journalist would have easily been able to work out who the loudly dressed American tourist called Chip was.
Really, my brother could have dressed as a clown, complete with oversized shoes and a bright red nose that honks when squeezed and been less obviously disguised.
Thankfully no one seems to have cottoned on, but with Max looking as subtle as a drunk uncle at a royal wedding, I can only hope that doesn’t change.
Ethan gave me the full run down on their conversation, so I know that things started out somewhat tentatively but ended on a positive note, at least as far as my brother’s approval of Ethan goes.
The media speculation and our father’s suspicions certainly raised alarm bells. But I’m determined not to allow anything to distract me from Ethan and what’s left of our time here in Montelac, because I know that it will be over far too soon.
Our time together is precious.
Max finally turned up at the café again after the lunch rush, this time in a pair of chinos and a polo shirt—his more usual off duty outfit—appearing at the back door to the café. Luckily, I was the one to open the door, and I bundled him out into the alleyway as quickly as I could to interrogate him.
“Ethan’s a good guy,” he replies.
I throw myself into his arms, saying, “You like him! Oh, Max, I’m so glad.”
“Steady on. You could wind a chap.” He uncurls my arms from around him.
I let him go, but I’m never letting the way I feel go. It’s nothing short of miraculous. I escaped the palace to have a grand adventure, hoping to find excitement with a con man, only to find something so much better, so much deeper, so much more profound with the man I met by accident in a costume shop in the capital city of Malveaux.
My Maverick. My Ethan.
And now he’s won my brother’s approval, which makes me feel like dancing I'm so giddy. Not that I needed Max’s approval, of course, but it’s nice to get it all the same.
“He seems genuine in his feelings for you.”
“I know he is. Oh, Max, I’ve never felt like this before. It's like everything I hoped for has come true. This is exactly what I wanted when I escaped the palace.”
He offers me a wry smile as he scrunches up his nose. “To work in a café that backs onto an alleyway full of rubbish bins?”
I bat him on the arm. “He really is wonderful, isn't he?”
“Us chaps don't tend to say other chaps are wonderful, but yes, I like him. Just as long as he treats you the way he says he's going to.”
I roll my eyes. “You're more like Alex day by day.”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “I guess I'm growing up?”
“Don't rush it. You're two years younger than me.”
He grins. “It’s only twenty-two months, actually, and I am light years more mature.”
I let out a giddy laugh. Quite frankly, Max could say anything today and I wouldn't care.
His features drop. “Did he tell you about the media interest and Father’s suspicions?”
“Yes. Father I can handle,” I say with at least a hundred percent more confidence than I feel.
“What's your plan? You're going to return when Stefania gets back from India and pretend you were there with her all along?”
I chew on my lip. The truth is I've been ruminating on how to handle my return to the palace, which is approaching at an alarmingly fast rate. Our last night here in Montelac is the Festival of Lake Lights tomorrow night. As much as I want to stay here in Ethan's and my lake of dreams bubble, I know I’ll have to return to reality soon.
“I'm going to come clean with him. With both of them.”
His brows ping up. “Ami, is that wise? They'll not only be infuriated that you lied to them and put yourself at risk, but now, I'll be an accessory to your crime.”
“The thing is, Max, I'm not the same Amelia I was when I left the palace, and I don't just mean because I'm working in a café and wearing goth clothes and an apron every day. Being here in Montelac with Ethan has changed me in ways I think I'm only just beginning to understand. For starters, I've learned so much about all the things that normal people do in their everyday lives, things that you and I have never had to do. We've got people to wash our clothes and make our food and do everything we ask.”
“Are you saying you're going to help out around the palace once you get home?” he asks, his eyes dancing. “You could scrub the marble floors, maybe hand wash the velvet curtains in the State Room.”
I roll my eyes. “You make me sound like Cinderella. What I'm saying is that I appreciate what everybody does for us. Theresa does anything I ask her at any time, day or night. What an intrusion that must be on her life! Before coming here, I thought the kitchen was some magical place where food was created with some sort of chef wand and delivered to us in the dining room.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, not a wand exactly, but I had no idea what went into preparing food. When I first arrived, Ethan asked me to slice some bread, and I had absolutely no clue how to do it. I thought it involved a mallet and brute strength.”
He snorts.
“I'm ashamed to say I never thought about what it would be like to be anyone other than myself, and I spent my time rebelling against the rules and the way we live our lives, never really appreciating what I've got. And I mean really appreciating it, not just saying ‘oh, I know I'm privileged.’”
He narrows his eyes. “What are you saying exactly?”
I take a breath, trying to order my thoughts, the thoughts that have been building like a stack of bricks in my mind since arriving in this little town on the lake. “I'm saying that in pretending to be someone else, I've learned who I really am.”
He blinks at me. “That's rather profound for you, Ami.”
I nod. “I know it is. During this time away I've realized that I'm more than just a princess, someone in the public eye who cuts ribbons and smiles, never giving away my true feelings about anything. Someone who dreams of breaking free and becoming someone else, even just for a month. Someone for whom their greatest achievement will be making an appropriate marriage to some weak-chinned aristocrat and producing several children. I want to be just Amelia.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don't know yet. What I do know is that whatever it is I do, it will be on my terms.”
The edges of his mouth lift in a smile. “I'm proud of you,” he says, taking me by surprise.
“I'm proud of me, too,” I say back.
“And on that note, I need to get back to the base.”
“I thought you were staying for the Festival of Lake Lights?”
“That was just my cover. The media is already talking about me and my yellow Ferrari.”
“Yes, thank you for that,” I reply, my tone dipped in a pool of sarcasm. “Couldn't you have hired a silver hatchback instead?”
“So not my style, Ami,” he says with a wink.
“Let's hope you didn't lead them here with your bright yellow beacon.”
“I think you'll be safe. You’re more goth than princess these days.” He pulls me into a hug. “Take care of yourself. Promise me?”
“I will. I hope you can see how happy I am. I've really landed on my feet here.”
“You've landed on your sneaker-clad feet,” he says looking down at my shoes.
“So much more comfortable than sensible heels paired with a twin set and pearls, even though I know that life is waiting for me.”
“But on your terms.”
“On my terms,” I echo, warmth spreading through me.
“I’m happy for you, sis.”
“Hey, Max,” Ethan says, appearing in the doorway. “You leaving?”
“Yes. Great to meet you, Ethan,” Max says, extending his hand.
“You, too, Your Royal … Max.”
“That’s a new one,” my brother says, grinning.
We say our final goodbyes and I can hear the rumble of his attention- seeking, brightly hued vehicle as he drives away.
Ethan collects me in his arms. “Are you okay?”
I smile up at him, my heart full to the brim and bursting for both the person I've become and the man who holds me so closely in his arms. “I'm more than okay,” I whisper. “I've got you.”
He brushes a soft kiss against my lips. “Right back atcha.”
The kitchen door swings open once more. “Look at you two lovebirds,” Francine says, and we pull apart like we’re guilty.
“We were just … you know,” Ethan says weakly.
And this guy’s a famous actor?
Francine simply smiles at us. “Amy, you will run a quick errand for me, no?”
“Of course.”
“Good girl. I need lemons. You can get them at the market.” She hands me some cash.
“I’d be delighted to,” I reply. “See you soon, Maverick.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “See ya, Amy.”
I literally skip down the alleyway and out into the sun.
Life is good. No, scratch that. Life is great . The threat of the media discovering my whereabouts and my parents’ reaction when they know I didn’t go to India fades as I think about the time I’ve spent here with Ethan in this pretty town on the edge of a beautiful lake, and how, when I must return to the palace, I intend to never give either my newfound self or Ethan up.
As I turn onto the main street, I almost bowl someone over, clasping their arms to stop us both from toppling over. “I’m so sorry!” I gush.
“You!” a familiar voice says in Ledonian, startling me with its undertone of disgust as apples and oranges go flying.
Giovanna is scowling at me as though I’m the bad guy in her soap opera.
“Yes, me,” I say lightly. “I’m so sorry, Giovanna. I wasn’t concentrating. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“You made me spill all my shopping!”
“Let me help you.” I drop to the ground, collecting her fallen produce. As I offer them to her, she snaps them away, stuffing them back into her brown paper bag. “I really am sorry. Some of those pieces of fruit will be bruised. Please let me buy you some more.”
She levels me with her gaze. “You would like that, wouldn't you?”
That's an odd thing to say.
I won't be deterred. Just because she’s clearly in a terrible mood doesn't mean I shouldn't be kind. “I'd simply like to help. It was my fault you dropped them, so it's only fair I should pay for more.”
She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “Do you really think you know anything about fairness?”
I open my mouth to reply but she doesn't give me a chance.
“ I’m meant to be with him!” she spits.
So this is about Ethan. I should have guessed.
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely confused.
Giovanna thinks she’s meant to be with Ethan? Is it some sort of weird actor thing? Are they all meant to date one another or something? I know that used to be the rule for royalty a hundred or so years ago, but for actors?
She throws her hands on her hips. “ I should be kissing him, not you. I should be the one having romantic strolls along the water’s edge, seeing our glowing footsteps in the sand, hearing him whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I’m perfect for him. Perfect! You were never in the plan, and yet here you are, messing everything up for me.”
The plan?
And how does she know about our glowing footsteps in the sand?
Confused, I ask, “Giovanna, what are you talking about?”
She crosses her arms and glares at me, her nostrils flaring. “You were never meant to be here,” she says in a menacing tone I’m certain she’s used on the soap she stars in.
“I’m … sorry,” I say, although I’ve got no clue what I’m apologizing for. But it seems to go some way to placate her, when her features suddenly drop, and her bottom lip begins to quiver.
“Giovanna, it’s okay,” I say, reaching for her hand. “There’ll be other chances with other men for kisses and strolls and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. Look at you. You’re utterly gorgeous. Men must fall over themselves to be with you.”
She sniffs. “They do. Sometimes quite literally.”
“See? You’ll be all right. Maverick isn’t the man for you, but I guarantee you’ll find your person someday.”
She eyes me as though she has something else to say. But all she does is nod, pulling her lips into as thin a line as she can—which isn’t thin at all, and I strongly suspect significant artificial enhancement now that I'm up this close.
“Now, about the fruit,” I say.
She waves her hand in the air. “I don't care about fruit.”
“I would be happy to get you some more and I'm on my way to the market for Francine right now. She needs some lemons, you see.”
“No. I must go. My time here is done,” she declares with dramatic flair.
“Your time here?” I question, wondering whether this means she's leaving Montelac.
But all she says is, “Good luck to you, Ami.”
I blink at her in disbelief.
Ami? She called me Ami ?
She turns to walk away, and I call out, “Giovanna, wait!”
Looking back at me, she replies in Ledonian, “Look out for yourself. You never know about people.”
You never know about people ? What the heck does that mean?
She turns to walk away once more, and I rush after her.
“Why did you call me Ami?”
“Did I? My mistake. I meant Amy. It’s my accent, you see. Ledonian.” She shrugs as though that explains it.
But of course it doesn’t explain it because not only am I Ledonian too, but we’re literally speaking the language.
As I search her face it seems utterly implausible that she wouldn't know who I am. She's from Ledonia. She's met both me and my brother before. It might have been a couple of years ago, but surely she’d remember?
No. I’m not convinced. She knows exactly who I am.
I swallow. “Do you know who I am?” I ask tentatively.
She seems to contemplate my question for a beat before she looks up and down the street and then leans closer to me and says, “Things are not always as they seem.”
Well, that doesn’t answer my question in the least.
“What do you mean? Giovanna, please tell me.”
“Just … watch your back, princess,” she replies under her breath before she turns and walks quickly away.
I suck in air.
I was right! She knows exactly who I am!
Her words echo in my mind like a warning bell. Something isn't right. First the flash mob and roses, now Giovanna's cryptic threats. Could they be connected? Or am I just seeing a link that isn’t there?
I hurry to the market, eager to get back to Ethan and the café. But no matter how much I try to dismiss Giovanna’s words, I can't shake the feeling that soon our glorious little bubble of happiness at the Lac des Rêves might be about to burst.