Authors: Emily Evans
A frown wrinkled Lisette’s forehead. “I don’t have my passport with me.”
“Passport or not, you can’t take us out of the country,” Austin said. “We’re seventeen. Minors.”
“It’s for your safety,” the guard said. “Your families can courier your passports.”
“I don’t even
own
a passport,” I said.
Callum waved a hand. “My family has the resources to arrange anything you need.”
“I need to call my parents.” I fought the urge to yell at him for making me get on the plane. I didn’t tend to hold back, but shock had given me new restraint.
The guard adjusted the blinds. “Once we reach cruising altitude over international air space, we’ll arrange for a call.”
The thought of international air space freaked me out, but the thought of talking to my parents calmed me. I used the image of Mom answering her cell to fight off the shakiness that was rushing me now that the adrenalin had left my system. Mom would be so upset, she’d probably bake me and the boys cupcakes with homemade chocolate icing. Yum.
“Got any soda?” Austin asked.
Sean’s head swiveled. “Americans and their soda,” he said to no one in particular.
The guard nodded. “I can put together your drinks and a meal.”
A snack. A mid-air, after-school snack. This would be the most unusual snack I’d ever eaten.
The guard eyed us as if just noticing our windswept hair and dirty clothes. “There are clothes in the cabins. Showers, if you’re fast. Help yourselves while I arrange for a snack.”
I rubbed at a smear of dirt on my pants and glanced at Callum, whose dark hair had fallen into place. I smoothed my own down.
Callum gestured to the back and then said in his Irish accent, “The first door has the ladies’ dressing room and wardrobe. Take whatever you need.”
“You should,” Sean said. “The press may be there when we land. You’ll want to consider that.” He eyed me when he said it as if I looked particularly messy. Or maybe he just wanted to take me to task about the speech and the consequences of the speech, like I wasn’t living them.
Lisette jumped up, and I followed her down the aisle into the small dressing room. It had cupboards, a vanity, and two doors. White fluffy robes hung on hooks. The whole situation was overwhelming. “Are you going to shower?”
She snagged a robe and wrinkled her nose. “Sure. I hate being grimy. Okay if I go first?”
“Sure.”
She paused in the doorway. “I’ve never heard of a Gulfstream having two showers.” With that, she disappeared behind the door.
I’d never heard of a plane having one shower. I sank down on the cushioned bench and stared at the back of my unpolished nails, thinking about everything that had happened, and hoping everyone had gotten out safely.
By the time Lisette returned, with wet hair and wearing a fluffy robe, I hadn’t arrived at any great conclusions. With a weak smile, I made my way around her and into the tiny bathroom.
The steamy miniscule space had an efficient layout. I used the jewel-toned bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion. The fragrances were floral and pleasant, but it was strange not to have my familiar bath products. I thought I’d love to try out expensive brands, but I wanted my own things and my own room. I breathed in the steam and let the hot water beat into my shoulders before toweling off, putting on one of the fluffy white robes, and going back to the dressing area.
Lisette peered into one of the tall closets. She touched the sleeve of a white dress that featured overlarge pink cabbage roses. “Who do you think these belong to?”
I pushed the padded hanger back for a better view. Dress after dress was covered with blooming floral prints, as if a garden party threw up all over the wardrobe. My body jerked in instinctive revulsion. “His mom?”
She laughed and lifted one down. “Ever worn a Queen’s clothes?”
A stream of water ran from my hair down my neck, and I blotted it with the corner of the towel. “Uh, no.”
“Me either. Today’s held a lot of firsts.”
“Yeah.”
The padded hangers moved to one side as she flipped through them. “His mom’s taller than us and skinnier, but several things in here will work.”
Lisette stood about my height, or maybe an inch shorter, about 5’7”, so that put Callum’s mom close to six feet. He must have gotten his height from her. I leaned against the wardrobe door, fiddling with the tie on my robe. “I don’t have a sister, but I borrow from my mom sometimes.”
Lisette’s hand tightened on the hanger. “My parents are gone. My older brother is at university in France, and I live with my grandfather here.” A sad expression flitted across her face for a moment, and then changed to a grin. “My grandfather and brother are firecrackers. You’ll have to meet them.” A faint French accent broke through when she spoke of her family. She took a hanger out of the wardrobe and turned to me with a critical eye and a nod. “This emerald silk would look gorgeous on you. The yellow lilies all over it can’t be helped, but with your eyes, that shade of green’s a must.”
I took the dress from her. The fabric melted in my hand, soft like rose petals, unlike anything I owned.
Next, Lisette held up a mango tank dress covered in violets. She assessed the pattern with a tilted head and pulled out a purple button-up sweater. “This will detract from the mass of flowers. I’ll wear it.” She grabbed a black sweater and passed it to me. “This will work over the top of yours.”
I trusted Lisette’s judgment over my own attempts to put together an outfit. Coordinating pieces wasn’t a talent I possessed. I stuck with dark solids and gave in whenever Mom added a headband or other pop of color. She was usually right. “Thanks,” I said. The sweater was almost as soft as the silk; they didn’t sell fabrics like this at the mall.
Lisette squatted down and peered into the bottom of the closet. She held up a cheetah stiletto and cooed over it. “Oh. Too small for me.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you a six and a half?”
“Eight. You?”
“Nine.” She slipped into her navy flats and wiggled her feet. “Ugly, aren’t they? My grandfather said conservative would impress the
provincial judges
.” She said the last part with a heavy French accent as if imitating her grandfather.
Good tip. He’d have approved of my own black flats.
We finished and left the stateroom. Back in the main cabin, the bodyguard had set up a buffet. All three guys had showered and dressed in chinos and white tops. Royal or not, three men still got ready quicker than the time it took the two of us. Tall, fit, they looked good.
Austin choked out a laugh. “It’s like my mom’s shower curtain came to life.”
I pulled on the sweater and buttoned it up. I had no other defense.
Lisette pursed her lips and went over to the table. I joined her and eyed the fruit and crackers. No chocolate. I snared a white cheese cube. There appeared to be a powdery outer layer and a creamy middle. I pressed it between my thumb and index finger, noting the give.
“It’s Brie,” Callum said, watching me.
I wrinkled my nose and set it on a small plate.
“You prefer
American
cheeses?” There was a note of disdain in his voice, as if there was something wrong with American cheese.
I picked up one of the pale round crackers and smoothed my thumb over the top, noting the lack of salt.
“They’re water crackers,” Callum said.
“Sounds flavorful.”
Callum grinned, snagged a grape, and smeared it into the cheese. He lifted it to the center of my mouth. At the press of the cold grape, I opened my lips. The middle of the soft cheese melted on my tongue. I chewed and the sweet tartness of the grape melded with the creamy cheese. I nodded and made a plate: water crackers, cheese cubes, and grapes.
The guard served as cabin attendant. He brought me a small bottle of clear soda, and a heavy crystal tumbler with two ice cubes. “Thanks,” I said, searching his eyes so he’d know I meant thanks for helping us.
His mouth softened and he nodded. “We’re having trouble with the coms. We’ll try and get them working, but worst case, you’ll call your families on your mobiles when we land.”
My cell phone was in the principal’s confiscated stash. I hoped he’d give it to my mom. I’d ask her when we landed, which was in eight more hours. My stomach sank. I really wanted to speak with my parents. I tightened my grip on the glass and took a drink of the clear, citrus-vanilla, fizzy liquid.
“I don’t think my cell will work overseas,” Austin said.
Callum dug into his second plate, the same as Austin. “You’re welcome to use mine.”
“Cool,” Austin said.
The bodyguard returned with a notepad and pen. “Give me your parents’ names and numbers, and we’ll see what we can do to keep them informed.”
Austin, Lisette, and I spit out our digits. The guard took them down. “Ring if you need anything else. Anything at all.”
When all five of us were seated and snacking, I noticed how much everyone had calmed. Sean still seemed somewhat anxious, but nothing compared to before.
“Can you tell me something about Ireland, where we’re going?” Lisette said.
Callum smiled a professional smile. “I can.”
Before he started, his cousin spoke, “Those men will never stop. Having the right king is critical. Such things bred war in the past.” Sean leaned forward intently, staring at me. “Your words inflamed the crowd.”
I held out my hands, palms up. “It’s the twenty-first century. No one’s going to war over bloodlines.”
Sean shook his head. “What’s been said cannot be unspoken.”
I stared at his narrow freckled nose and tried not to get pissed, though I preferred anger to fear.
“Lay off,” Austin said. “It was just a speech gone wrong. It’s not the first time she’s done it, likely won’t be the last.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t hide the sarcasm. I would get better.
Austin chuckled. “You should have seen her double-barrel the last one.”
I glared hard, daring him to describe it. Austin laughed outright.
Lisette made her eyes big and directed her question to Callum. “Maybe you have a story?”
A frown flashed across his forehead, and he spared a glance at his cousin before answering. “How about a tale of betrayal?”
Austin shoved a Brie cube in his mouth and lifted his glass. “Sounds good, let’s hear that.”
“The year was 1313.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms, and I curled my legs into the seat. Thirteen—the number was both terrible and momentous. And that year had it twice.
“My family lost the crown in 1013 and 1313 Ireland was divided by warring factions. My ancestor Mael brokered peace. Thirteen warlords gathered at the Church of
Clochán na bhFomhórach
to pledge their fealty to him as their high king.”
Sean choked when Callum said the name of the church and averted his face.
Callum paused to look at his cousin and then continued, “Can you see my ancestor kneeling there, awaiting his crown?”
I nodded.
Austin shoved more cheese in his mouth. “Good one. Go on.”
“Cold wind and snow whipped around outside, sealing the warlords together. The High King Mael bowed his head, ready for the circlet of gold to land. With it would come the weight of the Kingdom.”
Ooh. Stories told in an Irish accent were compelling. He’d have won the speech round. I watched his mouth as he continued. He had amazingly sexy lips.
Callum whipped his hand through the air. “The first betrayer sliced King Mael through the neck. Royal blood pooled along the stone floor. All the men took their turns, wetting their swords in my ancestor’s trust.”
“No one had his back?” Austin shook his head and grabbed some purple grapes. “He was
some
idiot to give them the opportunity.”
“The thirteen were lords,” Callum said. “They were supposed to vow to protect him.”
“He had no personal guard?”
“His second,” Callum glanced at Sean, “a cousin, also of royal blood, who came too late.”
I took a purple grape off my plate. They were deep in color, fragrant, and sweet. I ate another. Whenever Mom and Dad didn’t want to go to a family event, we were late on purpose. “Late on purpose?”
Callum shrugged. “Possibly. Maybe he wanted the throne for himself. No one knows.”
“But he didn’t get the throne, did he?” Sean said. “Tell them.”
“He did not,” Callum said. “The fallen King Mael was the last of the high kings. The last of our family to rule.”
Sean crossed his arms over his chest. “That day, the warlords doomed the fate of our country. Ireland stayed divided ever after. Split by weak provincial kings who let it fall to the British. Over and over again.”
I sank down further and covered a yawn with the back of my hand. Fascinating brutal people, the Irish; and now they had me tangled in their harp strings.
I slept the rest of the flight, awakening when the pilot came over the speakers. “We’re nearing the west coast of Ireland and anticipate landing in the next thirty minutes. If you care to stretch your legs, this will be the last opportunity.”
I threw off my blanket, warm now that the morning light came through the windows. Across from me, Lisette yawned and stretched. She signaled toward the dressing room. I nodded.
After using the hairbrush at the vanity, she said, “This is so surreal. In my memoir, please don’t correct me when I title it,
Kidnapped by a Prince
.”
I smiled. “No problem. As long as you don’t mind mine being called,
The Day I Saved a King.
”
She laughed and rubbed her face. “I need makeup, but I don’t feel right using what’s here.”
I shrugged. “You don’t need makeup.”
“I wish I had your alabaster skin.”
“I wish I tanned.”
Lisette glanced at her golden arms. “We should hang out when we get home. I can lay out by the pool and you can hide under the umbrella and tell me about the boys at Trallwyn. Austin’s cute.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t get in the way of his girlfriend Bliss. You saw her in action on the stage.”
Lisette frowned.