Grandma had warned me. She was a princess and told me Bollard had come from a different world. I wished I had believed her, but the stories were so outlandish. She asked about the Prince of France and if he ever found his cat.
Little consolation, but the ring on my finger was a gift from the Prince of France and my grandmother had stored the historic relic in a coat pocket as if it was a ball of lint. All those mundane doctor’s appointments when it was cold, her feet landing in sludge, with the ring in her pocket.
I picked up Volume 242 from a nearby table and opened to Chapter One. I was too keyed up to read the book so instead, I flipped through the pages looking for photographs. In the first picture I flipped to, Grandma sat at an official-looking desk. An old man, who looked a little like Bollard but was not, stood behind her. The caption said, “American Princess Helena Merric finishes one of her first official duties by signing the anti-treason act of 1965. Her uncle, Prince Regent Valvin Grenoble Merric, walks her through the finer points of the treaty.”
I turned the page again. There was Grandma on the deck of a sailing ship.
The book stated the picture was taken in 1966, which was supposedly the same year Grandma started her tour with the Dead. How did Grandma have the time? She married Grandpa at 22, three short years from when she appeared in the first picture. She couldn’t have toured and done enough to fill a book at the same time. Both couldn’t be real. The tour was the most realistic, yet here I was, sitting in a palace. A palace!
I flipped towards the end of the book. In the picture, Grandma walked with a man. He was handsome, with a strong chin and deep-set brown eyes. Under the image was the title A Walk in the Lilies. The caption read, “Helena Merric, Princess of America, and Lothaire DeLuce, Prince of France.”
The Prince of France was real.
And as for my grandmother- I didn’t know her. Not the real her, anyway, except that she liked dances and had a thing for the Prince of France.
I picked up a pen and paper and wrote my first letter home.
Dear Family,
First, Dad’s right. Uncle Bollard is a liar and a phony. At the first chance, he abandoned me. I am stuck in a mansion with people he hired to take care of me. I’m in Boston but in a different world and I don’t have a clue when I will see Bollard again. Or you. Oh, and Grandma’s tales are all true. And—
I crumpled up the letter and threw it away. Honesty would only make them worry more. They didn’t need that.
Dear Family,
I made it in. I am in the middle of Romania. No phones in our village. So crazy to think there isn’t cellphone service or even a landline. I love and miss you all. I’m exhausted and will write more tomorrow.
Love,
Waverly
I placed the letter addressed to my parents on top of the table. Hopefully, a staff member would see it in the morning.
I grabbed Grandma’s book and turned to page 1. I needed every bit of information. I wanted to talk to Bollard, but since that wasn’t going to happen, I decided to read the book. Besides, I didn’t know whether Bollard was even a real relative because if this place was real and her stories were real, then Grandma’s brother had died in the war.
Chapter 8
First Days
Everyone left me alone for the rest of the night; well, except for when a woman dropped off dinner. I ignored it. The day’s experience had killed my appetite.
I spent the whole night hiding under the comforter reading Grandma’s encyclopedia. If even half of the stories were true, Grandma’s life as a princess was more amazing than she’d let on. She’d done all the traditional princess stuff we’d talked about like dining with dignitaries, dancing at balls, and being courted by princes. According to the book, she fought in the military, but I doubted it was in any real capacity. She’d flown on a trapeze, helped build houses for the homeless, and sailed around the world.
Furthermore, Prince Lothaire wasn’t simply a prince she dated; they’d been far more serious. The love between them popped right out of the pictures. In so many, he was looking down at her with a huge smile. His arm always around her.
Honestly, I couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t married Lothaire. All my childhood, I’d romanticized Grandma and Grandpa and their first meeting, but now I had to question the whole story.
Grandma’s real life was a puzzle and all the pieces were sitting there, dismantled before my eyes, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of them because I didn’t even have the picture on the box. I felt so far apart from her; it seemed I hadn’t known her at all. And I was supposed to find a cure for Grandma? In this complicated mess? How?
When Enzo visited in the morning, I didn’t even bother to get out of bed. He cautiously craned his long neck into the room. “How are we this morning? I brought breakfast.”
Enzo and a maid entered with a plate of fifteen pancakes. I’d assumed it was for us to share, but there wasn’t a second plate and only one set of silverware.
“I’m not eating.” I pulled the blanket up over my head and decided not to come out until they left.
“Come on, don’t you like pancakes?”
I had been lied to and tricked to come to this
