Royal Treatment Read online

  “Really, all you have to do is hold on. These horses are all super well trained,” Petra added.

  “I think Misty would be the perfect horse for her, don’t you?” Sasha asked his sister.

  “Oh, he would,” she agreed. “I’ve already got him saddled up and ready to go.”

  Petra led a beautiful black horse out of the stable and showed me how to get up on his back.

  “I’m going to walk beside you,” Petra told me.

  “The key to riding Misty is to keep loose reigns and to trust your instincts,” Sasha said. “He’s a good horse. When you feel comfortable, we’ll go for a little ride.”

  They were right. Misty was a wonderful horse. I felt comfortable after just a few laps around the fenced-in pasture.

  “Good boy,” I said, rubbing his neck. “Good horse.”

  “Are you ready?” Sasha asked. “You seem like a natural.”

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  Once Sasha and Petra were mounted on their own horses, we headed toward one of the nearby hills.

  Misty seemed to know the way. I barely had to direct him at all.

  I couldn’t help but think that it was much easier riding horses with Petra and Sasha than it was talking with Victor, Lisle, and Jacqueline.

  16

  After our ride, I helped Sasha and Petra wash the horses and brush their manes.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Petra kept saying.

  “I want to,” I said. “Besides, there isn’t really much else for me to do at the moment.”

  “We should show you around town,” Sasha said.

  “It isn’t very big,” Petra added. “But there are some nice little cafés, and we were planning to head into town tonight anyway.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “That means I won’t have to hang out by myself all night. Duncan doesn’t necessarily seem like he’d be game to binge-watch shows with me.”

  Petra laughed. “Yeah, Duncan might not be up for it. But couldn’t you at least call a friend or something?”

  “Nah,” I replied, “I haven’t explained all of this Evonia stuff to my friends yet.”

  “Why not?” Sasha asked.

  “Well,” I said, “this is all super new to me. I had no idea I was even related to anyone royal until just a few days ago.”

  “Oh, that explains everything,” Sasha laughed. “You weren’t raised as royalty.”

  “Not even close,” I said. “And I’m not sure how to share the news with people back home.”

  Sasha looked at me closely. “You know, it’s probably easier to just tell everyone at once. People are going to find out eventually, right? At least if it comes from you, you can control the story.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “I don’t really feel in control of anything right now.”

  “Making an announcement might help with that,” Sasha said with an encouraging smile. “People may try to use you once they find out you’re royal, but I’d imagine it’s pretty easy to spot if they are.”

  I hadn’t even thought about that. I’d mostly been concerned that people back home would somehow use this weird development as another excuse to make fun of me. But Sasha had made a good point—some people might try to get on my good side when they found out my family was rich and important. I wasn’t sure which one would be worse.

  “It’s totally up to you, obviously,” said Sasha. “But it might be a relief just to put it out there. I think it’s what I would do if I were in your shoes.”

  “Yeah, I’ll think it over,” I said.

  I invited Sasha and Petra back to the house, but they both shook their heads with what appeared to be mild alarm.

  “Meet us down here at five,” Sasha said. “We’ll be done with our work by then.”

  So I walked back alone. Duncan greeted me at the door to tell me my aunt would not, in fact, make it home for dinner and to ask what I would like to eat.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” I said. “I made plans to go to town with Sasha and Petra.”

  “Oh,” Duncan said, slightly surprised.

  “I’ll be home by nine,” I told him.

  “Yes,” he said with a worried look on his face. “It would be best for you to be home before you are . . . missed.”

  I went up to my room and plopped down on my bed, thinking of what Sasha had said. I looked through my phone at all the photos I had taken since I’d arrived. There were a lot of pictures of my room and a few from the beach this afternoon. When I came across the selfie I had taken, I paused. It was a good picture. And what did I have to hide, anyway?

  Holding my breath, I pulled up my main social media app and posted the picture on my wall with the caption suddenly royal. Then I quickly closed out of the app. I wasn’t ready to see the reaction yet. Baby steps, I told myself.

  17

  At a quarter to five, I walked back down to the stable, where Sasha and Petra were waiting with an old, beat-up car. Petra drove us into town.

  At the cafe, I grabbed a table as Sasha and Petra ordered for us.

  Bracing myself, I opened up my app again.

  I had twenty new notifications and almost sixty new friend requests. I clicked on the notifications. Chrissy Swenson had commented on my photo. Where are you? You look beautiful. That necklace!

  Sasha had been right about people’s reactions. It was clear that the girl who’d taunted me for years wasn’t genuinely interested in being my friend. She was just hoping to get closer to royalty.

  I made a mental note to reject every new friend request that came my way in the immediate aftermath of the post.

  Sasha and Petra sat down at the table with me and I put my phone away. I preferred talking to people that were actually interested in my personality, not just my status.

  We ate the sandwiches that Sasha and Petra had ordered and talked until the café owner stepped onto the tiny stage. She announced that open mic was about to start and that anybody who wanted to perform should talk to her.

  “Well, I guess that’s me,” Sasha said. He got up and walked over to the manager.

  “He’s going to perform?” I turned and asked Petra.

  “Yeah, he plays guitar and sings. He’s actually good too,” she said with a shrug. “He regularly draws a crowd at the open mic nights here. I’ve told him he needs to get out of Evonia. Our country is so small. If he headed to America, he might get noticed over there.”

  Sasha suddenly appeared again holding a guitar.

  “Where did that come from?” I asked him. “Do you just stash guitars everywhere you hang out?”

  He laughed. “Nah, I had this one in the car. Just went out to grab it.” He plucked the strings and soon had his guitar all tuned up. Then the owner gave him a nod and he stepped on stage.

  Petra was right. He was good. More than a few of the people watching started singing along. He clearly was relatively popular here, if the locals knew his song lyrics.

  After a few songs he joined us again at the table.

  “You were great!” I told him. “Were those original songs?”

  “Thanks,” he smiled at me sheepishly. “Yeah, I write a bit.”

  “Would you like to play together some time?” I asked. I had never really played with anybody except my dad, but I liked the idea of playing music with Sasha.

  “You play?” Sasha looked surprised.

  I nodded.

  “That’d be cool.”

  After a few more people finished their time on stage, the owner came up to us. “Sasha, do you feel like doing an encore? Nobody else is signed up and I’m hoping to keep the open mic going awhile longer.”

  Sasha shook his head but pointed to me. “Let’s give other people a shot. My friend Grace can play.”

  I looked at him in alarm and shook my head.

  He looked sheepish. “Sorry. I thought you said you played.”

  “I do. I just don’t normally play in public.” In fact, I had actually never played for an audience before—my par
ents didn’t count.

  “Well, now’s your chance to try it! What’s the worst that could happen? Nobody here knows you anyway.” He lowered his voice and leaned close so the owner wouldn’t hear him. “It’s not like we’re going to introduce you to everyone as Grace Valmont.”

  “Grace Valmont-Diaz,” I corrected him instinctively. It felt good to set the record straight, even if it was just for Sasha.

  He looked confused. “Diaz?”

  “Yep,” I said. “That’s my dad’s name.”

  “Oh.” He looked thoughtful for a moment but then snapped out of it. “Well then, Grace Valmont-Diaz, care to give it a try?” He smiled encouragingly at me and handed me his guitar.

  I couldn’t deny that the idea was appealing—and the owner was staring at me with a desperate look. So I stood up and made my way to the stage.

  Avoiding eye contact with everyone in the audience, I started strumming the last song my dad and I had been working on. I heard the chatter of the café die down and by the time I finished playing, everyone was looking up at me. But the only person I was looking at was Sasha. He beamed at me and joined in on the applause. My heart did a somersault.

  18

  The next morning my aunt showed up in my bedroom with two white shopping bags.

  “You’ll need riding clothes for your outing with Victor,” she announced.

  I looked at the tweed jacket, white blouse, black pants, velvet riding hat, and riding boots in the bags she had passed me.

  All sorts of new clothes had appeared in my closet this morning too. Three new dresses. A blue blazer. A tweed skirt. And three pairs of shoes—all heels.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” I said hesitantly. The idea of wearing formal clothes while riding didn’t seem appealing.

  “The boots are new, of course, and the helmet. But these were actually some of your mother’s old riding clothes. I thought you might like them. The fashions have stayed pretty much the same.”

  I didn’t care about the fashion, but I was shocked that my aunt had kept my mom’s old things.

  As if reading my mind, Aunt Caroline added, “I have such good memories of riding with your mother, I just couldn’t get rid of those clothes.”

  I smiled at her. Maybe she really was trying to make an effort after all. In her own way. I hadn’t thought of how lonely and horrible it must have been for her after her sister left and her parents died. Everything about her was always so put together—her beautiful clothes, her perfectly styled hair. But I realized that regardless of how perfect she looked, she never actually seemed that happy. Except maybe when she’d been reminiscing about the day I was born.

  I hugged my aunt. “Thank you,” I told her.

  She blinked rapidly, as if she were forcing back tears. “I just want you to know,” she said, with a smile that revealed a dimple I hadn’t noticed before, “that you are my favorite niece.”

  “I’m your only niece,” I laughed, and she laughed too.

  “Family is a precious thing,” she said.

  I hugged her again, thinking about how much we had both missed out on.

  ***

  The riding clothes were comfortably broken in, but the boots hurt my feet. Still, I didn’t complain when I came downstairs because both Aunt Caroline and Victor were smiling at me.

  “Victor,” I said. “You’re early.”

  “My apologies,” he said. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

  My aunt beamed at me.

  “You two have a wonderful day,” she said.

  Outside, Victor led me to a sporty white convertible.

  “Hop in,” he said.

  “We can just walk to the stables,” I said. “It isn’t that far.”

  “We could,” Victor said, holding the passenger open for me, “Or we could just drive.”

  Looking down at the stiff new boots on my feet, I caved.

  “Nice car,” I said as I got in and Victor started the engine.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Victor said with a grin. “A gift for getting top honors in school this year.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I think I got, like, a strawberry ice cream cone for getting good grades this year.”

  “Imagine what your aunt would get you if you got good grades!”

  “I bet she’d get me a pony.”

  “She totally would,” Victor said.

  We both laughed.

  When we entered the stable, I saw that Sasha and Petra had two horses ready for us.

  “Hey,” I said to them. “You two should come riding with us.”

  Victor looked confused. “I’m sure they have work to do. We don’t want to keep them from it.”

  “Yes,” Sasha said. “Wouldn’t want to do that.” His tone was biting.

  “You two have fun,” Petra said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Sasha helped lead Misty out of the stable.

  “Remember,” he said, staring at me intensely. “Trust your instincts.”

  “I will,” I said, pulling myself up on the horse, swinging my leg over, and sitting up. “Always have.”

  Victor clicked his tongue at his horse, and instantly they were racing out of the paddock toward the hills.

  “Come on,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Misty, who followed at a brisk trot.

  We rode across a wooden bridge and through a small wooded area. Eventually we stopped near a clearing where there was a table set up. I saw a huge picnic basket sitting beside the table.

  “A little lunch I had prepared for us,” Victor explained as he hopped off his horse.

  He helped me to the ground and then tied our horses to a tree before sitting down at the table.

  “This is amazing,” I said as Victor opened the picnic basket. Inside there was a thermos filled with tea and two containers. One was filled with tiny sandwiches and the other with chocolate dipped strawberries.

  “I tried to get us some deep-fried oysters, but those are really better fresh,” he said with a grin.

  I laughed.

  It was a beautiful place for a picnic, and everything Victor packed was delicious. Once we started talking, the conversation just flowed. Victor started telling me all about his friends from boarding school. “And what about you? What are your friends in America like?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I actually don’t have that many friends. And the ones I have aren’t close friends.”

  Victor smiled knowingly. “All that will change now,” he said. “As soon as people know you’re royalty, they’ll start treating you differently.”

  I thought back to what Sasha had said about people who would want to befriend me only because of my family. It was amazing how different the two boys were.

  “I have something that I want to ask you,” I said, nervously avoiding his eyes.

  “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

  “Why were you weird about Sasha and Petra coming along earlier? They’re really cool. Petra is so nice and Sasha plays the guitar and . . .” I trailed off once I caught a glimpse of his face.

  He looked a little irritated. “Well, I would have thought that was obvious. I wanted to go out with you. I didn’t really want other people tagging along.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little embarrassed that I didn’t think of this myself.

  “To be honest,” he continued, his tone a little softer, “I didn’t want to have to compete for your attention on our date.”

  He tilted his head and looked at me for a moment. “Can I kiss you?”

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  The kiss lasted for just a moment and then he looked at me again and said, “I’m sorry if you thought I was rude earlier. I wouldn’t want you to think your escort to the ball was some kind of jerk.”

  “Escort?”

  “Yes,” he said. “If you’ll have me. I’d love to be your date to the coming-out ball.”

  I remembered Lisle saying something about an escort, b
ut I hadn’t realized I would need a date for this event. Why did people keep springing this stuff on me? Still, I did like the idea of spending more time with Victor. “Uh, sure, sounds good to me. You never know when I might need someone to secretly eat oysters for me.”

  He grinned. “Grace, I like you. You’re so honest and beautiful, and you make me laugh.”

  “Um, thanks,” I said. I knew I should probably return the compliments, but in the end it was easier just to keep kissing him.

  19

  Back at the stables, I led Misty into his stall.

  “I can take her,” Petra said.

  “I don’t mind,” I said, starting to brush out Misty’s mane.

  “Well,” Victor said as Sasha walked into the stable carrying a bale of straw. “I need to get going. I have tennis lessons in an hour.”

  “Okay,” I said. “You can go ahead. I’ll walk back later.”

  “Grace,” he said, glancing at Sasha. “It wouldn’t be proper if I didn’t bring my date back home. And maybe you’d like to join me for tennis lessons?”

  I didn’t really want to take tennis lessons, and I was surprised at his suddenly formal tone.

  Petra looked at me. “Let me take care of Misty,” she said and then whispered, “Go.”

  Victor stood in the doorway waiting for me.

  “I’ll be right there,” I said and watched as Victor turned around and walked to the car.

  I scratched Misty’s ears and whispered a goodbye to the horse. But as I turned to go, I heard Sasha humming the tune to the song I’d played the night before.

  I peeked my head into the stall he had disappeared into and saw Sasha spreading fresh straw on the ground, still humming.

  He looked up with surprise as I had caught him humming. “It’s been stuck in my head since last night,” he told me.

  “I guess we need a new song, then,” I said.

  “We do.”

  “Grace,” I heard Victor calling. “We really should go.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll have time,” Sasha said, not looking me in the eye. “You seem pretty busy now.”

  “I always have time for music,” I said. “Tomorrow?”