Soft, Warm Gingerbread Cookies, Soul-Crushing Nylons, and Shocking Revelations
Arabella
BUT FIRST… BREAKING NEWS WITH VERONICA PLATT
“We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you news from Zamunda, where Princess Arabella has been found alive.” Veronica pauses and waits while the breaking news opening sequence plays. When it ends, the camera zooms in on her.
“The entire kingdom can breathe a sigh of relief this evening as an unrecognizable Princess Arabella, seen here in this footage taken a few minutes ago, makes her way out of the jungle, pulling ABN’s own Will Banks of “The Wild World” on what looks to be a makeshift stretcher. Giles Bigly is on scene in the village of Mbambole. Giles, can you tell us what the atmosphere is like there?”
“It’s like something out ofApocalypse Now, Veronica,” Giles answers, sounding more excited than he ever has on television.
The video of Arabella coming over the hill starts up. Giles gives a giddy commentary. “The woman pulling the stretcher with her forehead is Princess Arabella herself, who appears to have turned into some sort of violent, fierce soldier out there. The man she is dragging is Will Banks—the heartthrob adrenaline-junkie-slash-nature documentarian. You know, the one you fancy.”
“I don’t fancy him, Giles,” Veronica says with a phony laugh. “I merely respect his work.”
“Right. Now, that other woman dressed in a suit who is rushing toward them is Dylan Sinclair, the new showrunner for “The Wild World.” Watch what happens here! She pushes her, Veronica! Right in the face!” Giles shouts.
“Is the princess high on some sort of steroids or something?” Veronica asks.
“I don’t think steroids make you high, Veronica. But regardless, after spending an afternoon in the presence of Ms. Sinclair, I can honestly say the princess only did what we all wished we could have done.”
The video continues, zooming in on King Winston who jogs toward Arabella, his staff in tow. “Here you see a lovely father-daughter reunion. They don’t hug, obviously, but I’m sure it’s only because Princess Arabella is badly in need of a wash.”
Footage of King Winston reaching out to embrace Arabella, then his head snapping back is shown next.
“Giles, were you able to get an interview with the princess or the king?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Directly following that almost-hug, she was whisked into a waiting limousine, and presumably taken to the airport. My best guess is that the medical staff will do a full examination and provide whatever care she requires en route back to Valcourt this evening.”
“Incredible, Giles. Just incredible.”
“She is, Veronica. Who knew she had that in her?”
* * *
And Now…Arabella
I stare into the foggy bathroom mirror at myself, fresh out of my first real shower in over ten days. My hair smells of lavender again. My skin is clean, my nails have been thoroughly scrubbed. And my brain has all but shut down completely, with all my thoughts seeming as clouded as my face.
As I pull on my boring beige bra and granny panties, I realize how tired I am. I’ve never been as physically exhausted as I am now, but at the same time, I’m wired on adrenaline and pride, and maybe love. I’m not even sure how I ended up on the plane or in the shower. I remember being in the limo with Dr. Hildegard checking my pulse and blood pressure, and looking into my eyes with a bright light. I remember his nurse handing me a cold bottle of orange juice, which tasted like heaven. I remember the rest of the people in the back of the vehicle discreetly trying to cover their noses and me realizingIwas the cause of the unbearable odour.
As soon as I stepped aboard my father’s jet, I was told to go shower, and that fresh clothes would be laid out on the bed for me. I open the door that connects the bathroom to the bedroom, hoping it’s a set of cozy pajamas waiting for me. But it’s not. It’s a floral print mint green dress with long sleeves and a belt. Next to it is a pair of short beige heels and nude tights that are going to be absolute torture on my ankles. Well, nottorturelike what Will must be feeling right now.
Oh, Will.
I wonder if he’s in surgery for his leg. The thought of it so twisted and limp makes my stomach turn as I slide the dress over my head. I cinch the belt, and glance in the mirror, seeing the old version of myself—the one I’d hoped I could leave behind forever. I pick up the nylons, then set them back down again. I don’t have to goall the wayback to being her again. I hold my head high and walk out of the room barefoot.
The cabin of the plane goes silent, all eyes landing on my feet.
Mrs. Chapman gets up from her chair with a disapproving look. “Your highness, I laid out proper footwear for you. Did you not see it?”
“Yes, I saw them, thank you, but I’m not putting them on. I need some bandages for my ankles and some slippers, please.”
“Slippers?” she asks, blinking at me as if she’s never heard the word.
“Yes.” I walk past her and through the cabin where I find my father reading a newspaper in his white leather armchair.
“There you are, Arabella,” he looks at me over the rim of his reading glasses. “Now I recognize you again.”
