God Save the Queen (7 page)

             
“Because you didn’t want the person who got my parents to find out where I was and finish the job,” I said.

             
Terrence didn’t reply at first, which only made it clear that he too thought I was right. “You have nothing to fear, sweetie,” he finally said with a sigh. “The palace is full of the highest level security.”

             
“Didn’t stop ‘Paul,’” I said.

             
“No, and that’s unfortunate. But since the news broke we’ve upped our security and not even a fly could get in without being interrogated. Now, this was only a little slip-up and we are re-evaluating all of the employees again, just to make sure that this won’t happen again. You really have nothing to worry about. Why, even if I have to take a bullet for you, Anya, I would.” He must have seen the terror on my face because he quickly soothed, “But that won’t happen.”

             
Great. Now I had Terrence, who was pretty much a surrogate grandfather-type in my eyes, swearing he would take a bullet for me. Just wonderful.

             
Terrence got up and made his way to the door. “Now, Anya, you might want to get some sleep soon. I’ve already called Jo Ann, and she is sending something up.”

             
I noticed he seemed to smile slightly, almost provocatively, when he mentioned Ms. Rontes’ name. I guess there was no Mr. Rontes, or Terrence just didn’t care. Was everyone getting it on in this crazy place? Man, it was like the Palace of Love or something. So after the initial shock I just kind of brushed off Terrence’s weird little hint and nodded.

             
No sooner had he left than the food arrived. Apparently Ms. Rontes knew exactly what a girl needed when she was upset. In front of me was a huge stack of chocolate-chip pancakes, a steaming cup of hot chocolate, a heaping bowl of cookie dough ice cream, and just in case that wasn’t enough chocolate to chase away the blues, a half-pound bar of milk chocolate.

             
I scarfed it down as quickly as I could. After the initial sugar rush I felt my eyes getting heavy and my head beginning to droop. I could hear voices around me, Mari and Avery coming in to wish me goodnight and then the sounds of plates hitting a tray. I assumed it was one of the footmen coming to retrieve the remains of my dessert-slash-dinner. Just as I was about to pass out, I felt myself being lifted from the couch. I slightly opened my eyes to see Kevin looking down at me. I tried to wiggle free, but I got to hand it to the kid--he had a good grip.

             
“Let me go!” I tried to say, but I was so tired it came out more on the lines of “Lemme, lemme
go-o-o-o….
”

             
He just rolled his eyes and gave a slight smile. “Just calm down, now. I’m only putting you into bed, which is only a few feet away. So please, just relax.” He looked down at me and then said, “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

             
“Fine, but no funny business. I can still kick your ass.”

             
I suddenly felt a little off-balance as he took one hand out from under me and pulled out the covers. I felt my head hit the pillow as the rest of my body was gently lowered. Then the covers flowed over me like a luscious, warm wave. Kevin made sure I was all tucked in before whispering goodnight and heading out of my bedroom.

             
I don’t know how or why I did it, but I somehow propped myself up on my elbows and said, “Kevin?”

             
He turned around just before reaching the door. “Yeah?”

             
“I just wanted to say thanks for being nice to me today.” Okay, I had promised my father that I would try to be nicer to him…

             
He stood there looking shocked for a moment, and then nodded. “Umm you’re…you’re welcome.”

             
“But that doesn’t change any of my feelings towards you. I still hate you and all you represent. So tomorrow I’ll be back to my old Kevin-hating self. Fair warning.”

             
Kevin’s face went from red to purple to red again in about four seconds. Then it returned to its normal color and he quickly retorted, “Well, Anya, I would like to remind you that what I represent is
you.
So really, you just hate yourself. Maybe you should go see a shrink.”

             
“Oh, you think that I should see a shrink, do you? Well, what about you? I mean, if you just look at the way that--”

             
“Me! How the hell do you figure that one?”

             
“Well, if you let me finish…”

             
But I didn’t finish. Whatever was in that hot chocolate knocked me out cold, and once again the world was at peace.

Chapter 11

Scholarly

             
The next day I was able to relax because I was so worn out from the insanity of the previous twenty-four hours. But the day afterwards, everyone got back to work, including me. I wasn’t going to be following Terrence or LaGard around, though. They had better plans--or what they
thought
were better plans. I was going back to school.

             
LaGard again stepped in to explain as he walked me to my class. Since I was only seventeen I still had to at least see a tutor for the next couple of months. “Until you are eighteen,” he threw in. He continued on about how twice a week I would be going to be taking classes in French, Russian, World and Russian History, and Anatomy. I was very glad to hear there was no Math class involved, because I had already done the required amount in my old school district. But still… here I had thought I had escaped the horrors of school.

             
LaGard finished his ramble by explaining why I was taking each class. I was taking Russian for obvious reasons, and French to have another language under my belt. I tried to tell him that I took Latin, but he said he wanted a more “lively” language. I was taking History to understand the country I was about to rule and those around me. He also claimed that it would help for world affairs and such. I was not looking forward to this. Out of all my classes, besides English, History was in my list of the top five classes I hated. I could never grasp the fact of memorizing dates and staring at a globe for an hour. And finally he explained to me Anatomy. “It will help you,” he said flatly. “Once you’ve taken this class, you will be able to understand more about diseases and then fund many organizations trying to find a cure. Ah, here we are, your first class. Have fun today, Anya!” He flashed one of his weird smiles and then walked away. I took a deep breath and walked into my new class… French.

             
When I walked into the makeshift classroom I saw my French teacher standing near a desk, so I sat down in my desk. He was not very young, probably around forty-one, forty-two. He looked as though he had not gotten any sleep in ages. His eyes had sunk into his head and the age lines were very visible. His hair had the salt and pepper look, but even he would have to admit the salt was taking over the pepper. He wasn’t much taller than I was, but I could tell that he could scare me in an instant.

The minute I walked up to him he looked annoyed
, probably because I said hello to him in English. He rolled his eyes and responded,
“Bonjour, mon nom est M. Beaumont. Êtes-vous conscient du fait que vous êtes en retard?”

             
I stared at him for a second and said, “Excuse me?”

             
Again he sent an exasperated look and spat out,
“Il est clair que votre Français aura besoin d'un bon nombre d'aide.”

             
“Um, okay, sure. Thank you very much.”

             
“Asseyez-vous.”

             
“Um, no… I think… I just ate.”

             
“I said sit down, you twit!”

I jumped into my seat as quickly as I could.

              “Let me start over. Hello, my name is Monsieur Beaumont. And I am your French tutor. When you first came into the class, I told you that you were late! I will not tolerate this. Is that understood? You will be here at exactly nine-thirty not a minute later! And my second comment was that you need a lot of work on your French. And that
will
be fixed before you turn eighteen. Is that understood as well?”

I nodded. I could already tell that
Beaumont was not going to be my favorite teacher.

             
We continued our lesson by starting with the basics. “Hello.” “How do you do?” “Where is my dog?” “Can I please smell the cheese?” You know, everyday talk. And every time I said something it was, as Beaumont said, “
VONG, vong oh so vong.
” It was either I didn’t pronounce it properly or I was butchering it or, my favorite, that I was insulting his blessed language and the memory of his favorite empress, Marie Antoinette. Even I, a non-history scholar, could have told him that her head went bye-bye way before his time for telling her people to eat cake when they didn’t even have bread, so how could she have been anyone’s favorite queen? However, I decided it would be better if I just bit my tongue. When the lesson ended I couldn’t have been happier to get out. I could tell that Beaumont was happy to see me leave, too, because I heard him mutter my name and some French word that sounded similar to
insolent.

             
The next class I had was History with Sergeant.
Kazakov
, a plump little man with a thick Russian accent who was decked out all in
an old war uniform. It turned out he served in World War II. He had to be around seventeen when he entered the war, because he was now almost seventy-nine. But for a little old man, the Sarge had the energy of a nine year old. He bounced around from map to map, explaining all the wars that ever happened in the world. All of them. I had a feeling in my gut that by the time I graduated from this class I was going to know more about the military of the world than anyone in the whole army. Maybe Sarge would actually make history a little more interesting for me, and I was really surprised when the class ended.

             
Anatomy was probably my favorite class. My teacher’s name was Lady Mancini, and she had to be one of the nicest people I had ever met. She reminded me of a small little fairy. She had to be about four-foot-three and she had fiery red hair that ran all the way down to the small of her back, which made her impossible to miss in a crowd, despite her short stature. Everything that I did she praised with such enthusiasm that I was a little shocked, especially having just left my evil French teacher. We immediately went into the muscles and the bones of the body, though I wasn’t very familiar with the human anatomy as a whole. But still, Lady Mancini was happy and trying to help me throughout the class.

             
“Oh no, it’s all right, darling! ‘Tibia’ was the right answer, but ‘ulna’ was very close. Don’t worry, you’ll have it down by next week!” It took me until class was over to realize that the ulna was actually located in the arm, while the tibia was located in the leg. Oh yeah, very close, like Philadelphia is very close to Hong Kong.

             
After all my classes I went to the kitchen, to eat
something
and thought about how much I was going to love school…
not.
Well, Lady Mancini was not horrible at all, but on bad days I’m not sure if I would be able to tolerate her optimism. Sergeant K’s class was going to be interesting. I wasn’t sure if I was actually going to learn anything that was going to help me in my everyday life, but it was still going to entertain me for the day. And then there was Beaumont. I could deal with him for about two minutes before I felt like screaming back. His class was the only one I was really dreading.

             
I grabbed an apple from the kitchen and began to chow down. Normally Ms. Rontes wasn’t in the kitchen from two to about five-thirty, so I always tried to sneak in there before she arrived, because if she caught me there was always trouble. She thought I ate way too much than a normal girl should, and isn’t that exactly what every teenage girl wants to hear? That’s why, when I heard footsteps approaching, I quickly ran out the other door. Suddenly something grabbed my elbow and twirled me around so fast that I felt the apple making its way back up again. It wasn’t Ms. Rontes, though, but Mari who had my elbow entangled in hers. There was a look of urgency on her face as she pulled me along with her.

             
“You need to come with me. The British prime minister is on the phone. He wants to talk to you immediately.” She tugged at my arm again.
“Come on!”

             
And once again my imaginary normal life melted right before my eyes.

Chapter 12

Lynette

             
The next week LaGard surprised everyone in the palace by telling us that his niece, Lynette, was coming for a week’s visit. Although I didn’t know her personally, I could tell that her visit was probably not one of the events looked forward to in the palace. As we walked away from the Scarlet Room where our meeting was held, I tried to find someone who could explain to me who exactly Lynette was. Avery was not shy about stating her opinion. “She is the worst little devil that ever entered this palace!” she spat, her full Irish accent coming out with her rage.

             
“Oh, so you’ve met her before?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said
, staring straight ahead as though something grim was looming in her future. “We met her three weeks before you came, and it was horrible. She followed us around, reminding us how lowly we were because of the jobs we had. She’s only a baroness, so she should just shut that piehole of hers!” Avery again yelled out, her face was slightly turning a little red.

             
“A… baroness? That’s very high ranking, though, is it?” I asked

             
“Yes,” Mari said, “but from the way she paraded around this palace, you would have thought
she
was the empress.”

             
“Well, I can promise you something,” Avery said. “If she says one thing about our family, I swear I’m going to make sure I leave at least one of her eyes black.”

             
Oh, this is going to be interesting,
I thought as we rounded the corner.

*
              *              *

             
The big day arrived sooner than I think Avery had expected, because the morning of Lynette’s arrival she looked as though she was going to kill anything that walked within twenty feet of her. Everyone stood in the hall waiting for Lynette’s arrival. And we waited and waited--and did I mention that we waited? Because we did that, too. Finally, an hour after the time of her scheduled arrival, Lynette finally showed up. And not even Avery’s harshest rant could have prepared me for LaGard’s beloved niece.

             
Lynette was a tall girl, probably around twenty-seven years old. She had curly blonde hair which pretty much looked bleached to within an inch of its life. She also looked like a carrot, which meant she tanned way too much. Would it be catty of me to mention that you could also see the slight scars left from what had to have been multiple nose jobs? What really caught me off-guard, though, was the fact that she was wearing a leopard skin trench coat with matching sunglasses and boots. Her hot pink handbag caused me to squint, it was so bright. She reminded me of the girls I used to make fun of in school, the ones who dressed with a color-coordinated frenzy. After she brought in about forty bags for this seven-day stay, Lynette made her way down the procession line, holding her nose up in the air the whole way as though none of us were worthy. Once she made it to Avery, Lynette made an abrupt stop and slowly turned to face her.

             
“Well look who it is!
Bonjour,
Avery! How are you? Are you still living in that little shack or hut of whatever you poor people live in nowadays?”

             
That hit a nerve, because I saw Avery’s fists clench and her knuckles began to turn white. That was when I flashed Barnes and Antonio’s “the sign.”

             
Before Avery’s arrival this morning, Mari made sure that Barnes and Antonio and I had a signal so that if Avery was about to attack Lynette, we could step in before Lynette got her face torn apart. Well, this was the moment we were prepared for. I reached over my head to give the sign, and then stepped in front of Avery. I could feel someone’s body pressing up against mine. I assumed it was Avery trying to jump over me to get to Lynette. But as soon as I felt Avery bump against my back, she pulled back--presumably Barnes and Antonio must have grabbed her in time. I quickly tried to cover it up.             

             
“Hello, Lynette, I’m Anya,” I said, quickly thrusting my hand out for her to shake.

             
She looked at it as though I had just dipped it in toxic waste. “Um, ‘ello, your ‘ighness.” Then she gave a quick bow. I never did get why she dropped her “atches” when she said that; maybe a suggestion that I was a mere peasant, a pretender to the throne? “
Oui,
you must be the adorable princess that everyone is talking about.”

             
I faked a laugh and then smiled. “Oh, well, I hope it’s all good talk,” How corny was that? “Um, well, I’ll take you upstairs and show you where your room is.”

             
She sighed with impatience and then grudgingly followed me down the hallway to her room. I wondered, was the prospect of walking up all those stairs too daunting for her? Did she expect to be carried aloft in a litter like Cleopatra?

*
              *              *

             
Out of all the extra rooms in the palace, LaGard made sure that his niece had the best room, the Master Suite. It was only a little smaller than my room, but only because it didn’t have the same amount of closet space. I would have taken it if it I wasn’t already settled into my own suite. But when Lynette saw the room, nothing that came out of her mouth was positive.

             
“What is this?”

             
“You call that a living room?”

             
“And where exactly am I supposed to put my clothes, because that closet space is a little bit ridiculous.”

             
And this went on and on for about thirty minutes while she walked around and insulted the room. First, the wood was not the right type. The wood! Had she planned on eating it? Were there certain types of wood that made her break out in hives? One could only hope. Then it was the couch, which wasn’t big enough.
Big enough for what?
I wondered. Next, her bed was too high. She might “tvist” an ankle as she got out of bed in the middle of the night. And the comforters, oh they would not do! They were way too soft for her liking. All this was sounded a bit too familiar to me, and then it came to me: It was the story of “The Princess and the Pea.” By the end of her rant I was drained from all the negative energy in the room.

             
I quickly came up with an excuse to get out of her presence, and left Lynette still complaining about everything in sight. I could tell her visit here was going to feel much longer than a mere week. Well, I was going to avoid her at all costs. Or so I thought. Once the thought of steering clear of Lynette was in my head, LaGard caught me at the door.

“Ah
, there you are. Excellent! You have to get ready for dinner.”

             
“Dinner? Is the Russian ambassador here again?” I asked. I never ate dinner with everyone unless there was someone of importance here.

             
LaGard smiled as he responded, “No, Lynette insisted that everyone should have dinner together tonight.”

             
Oh, just wonderful.
I forced a smile to hide my annoyance in the situation. “All right, when does dinner start? And what should I wear?” I was hoping I could just dress casual.

             
“Well, dinner will start in half an hour, so you might want to get ready soon.” He contemplated my second question before responding, “I would say you might want to wear a nice dress. I am sure Mari and Avery will help you choose. Now go.” He was now pushing me in the direction if my room.

             
“Can’t we just dress the way we…” I started to say.

             
“
Allez!
Go!” he bellowed as he gave me one last shove.