“I have fresh clothes for you—and the shower is that way,” he said, pointing through a door she hadn’t seen last night. “Not as fancy as at the hotel, with accommodations down the hall.”
She grinned, her good mood returning. “Not everywhere can be so nice.” She tilted her head and hoped her words didn’t betray her relief at having time to herself. “You’re leaving?”
“I’ve been summoned to a breakfast briefing, and the press conference is at ten. I’ll be tied up with appearances for the rest of my natural life I suspect.” Still, he didn’t seem unhappy about it. The perspective of a year in captivity could change a lot of things, Fran suspected.
“When you’re ready, you can take the stairs to the first or second level, and ask anyone to direct you back to the guest apartments. Or the pool.” He shook his head. “Dimitri seemed to think that’s where your friends would be. It’s apparently become their second home.”
“Thank you,” she said. Once again, leaning toward him to kiss him seemed the most natural thing in the world to her, for all that she knew their magical idyll was already over.
Perhaps Ari knew it too. With the same affability that he’d displayed regarding his upcoming appearances, he left her with a brief kiss and a warm smile, as if there was nothing unusual about the crown prince of Garronia leaving a strange American woman alone in his room.
Then again, who was she to know how things usually rolled in Garronia? For all she knew, Ari could have had a different woman in his room every week. Somehow, though…she didn’t think so.
It was another half hour before she made her way down to the first floor, where a staff member insisted on guiding her to the pool. The young man practiced his English the whole way, beaming with every smile Fran gave him, so that by the time she reached the pool area she too was feeling more upbeat.
And ready for the combined screams of Lauren, Nicki and Emmaline.
“Oh my God! She lives!” Nicki saw her first from her vantage point in the pool, and she hauled herself up out of the water as Emmaline and Lauren pivoted in their chairs. Then they too were scrambling up, everyone talking at once.
“When did you get back, last night?” Emmaline asked. “What’s he like—Ari, that is. Is he better? Does he remember everything?”
“Dimitri said he was better, nearly back to full speed, but he lies all the time,” declared Lauren with a knowing grimace. “He thinks I don’t know it, but I keep telling him I’ve been around far less scrupulous men than he realizes.” She laughed. “Of course, that doesn’t make him feel any better.”
“Stefan thinks he’s remembering more too,” Nicki said, “But he’s also cautious. They’ll imply he’s completely up to speed, and if anyone challenges Ari, I think they’ll lower the boom. Fortunately, he’s not been involved in the setting of any real policies at this point. His own Accession Ball was still in process when he had the accident, so he hadn’t started any truly official duties.”
“Kristos lives in hope that he can return to the military, but I think he’s willing to stay crown prince, so long as Ari is back.” Emmaline said. “But how are you doing? Dimitri said you helped more than they could have ever imagined?”
“I—” Fran blinked as all three of the women focused on her, and she knew it was time for her close-up. She understood her part, and she understood her audience, this endlessly sympathetic trio of women who’d been there since she’d first begun believing that she could be the person she’d fashioned for herself, the woman who could one day graduate with a good job and good friends and the incredible experience of helping people all around the world.
They were here, they genuinely loved her, and all she had to do was smile.
Instead, she burst into tears.
“You’re goingto do splendidly, dear, you always do.”
Ari looked down at his mother, marveling anew how small she seemed to him. Had he thought that before, in the weeks and months leading up to the fateful airplane flight that had taken him so far away from these people? He honestly didn’t know. He seemed to be remembering much more, but the process wasn’t a conscious one. It wasn’t as if he could suddenly recall every detail of his past life, but more that he realized that he wasn’tnotrecalling it. After a lifetime of living less than deliberately, he didn’t have a firm sense of what he’d forgotten versus what he’d never truly remembered in the first place.
“The message is simple enough,” he agreed, rewarded by his mother’s quick smile. She wanted more than anything for him to be well, to be healthy. She didn’t want to let the press corps loose on him, though by conducting this meeting now, before the regional feeds could get a person in place, they were heading off most of the media circus before it began. All Ari had to do was show up and look the part.Fake it ‘til you make it, Francesca had said. Truer words were never spoken.
His parents and Dimitri entered the press room first, and the questions started almost the moment they hit the door. It swung closed and Ari stared at it. The plan was simple. An announcement, a series of questions, then Ari would make an appearance like Oz from behind the curtain. They’d already agreed that he’d continue answering questions until the reporters had exhausted all the ones of relevance, and they’d gone over a list fifty items long of increasingly more ridiculous queries. Ari was prepared for anything—but most of all, he realized, he didn’t mind. The questions lobbed by the reporters looking for an angle to titillate their viewers weren’t intended to harm him personally, or to harm his family personally. There was no danger here.
The tiniest frisson of apprehension skated up his spine. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t any danger, anywhere, of course. But not here. Not in this scripted, highly public space, where what mattered most was his performance—not what truths he could tell. Later, however, there would be time to ensure that every threat was run down…even, especially, those he could not truly remember.
“Are you ready, sir?” Stefan came up beside him at the door, ready to enter the small auditorium used for exactly this purpose—intimate gatherings of the press or special video presentations for honored guests. Ari couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in here, but he’d attended dozens of such briefings before as the silent son, there to help the family put on a united front.
“Does he always call me sir?” Ari asked Kristos, and his brother grimaced.
“Whenever he thinks other people are listening.” His brother was dressed in his military honor uniform, the braids and decoration making Ari feel particularly unimpressive. But his path hadn’t been through the military beyond his two years of compulsory service—during which time he mainly improved his flying abilities. His path had been through these doors in front of him, addressing the media on behalf of the royal family.
It felt right, he realized, memory or not. It felt like what he should most be doing.
“They’re ready,” Stefan said, his hand at his ear where a mic sat permanently affixed to his brain, from what Ari could tell. Kristos led the way, and Ari followed, with Stefan at his back.
He entered the room and to his surprise, the press corps was standing. He didn’t think they normally did that, but he smiled as a hundred different cameras flashed and video cameras rolled in the back. His father stood beside the podium, and Kristos stopped before it, allowing Ari to pass in front of him. Three men of the royal family stood arrayed for more photos, while Stefan stood back by the door. Beyond his father, his mother sat, and Dimitri stood at the other door.
He was surrounded by the people who loved him most, Ari realized, and pride and gratitude swelled in his chest, threatening to choke him.
He looked out into the crowd. “Before I answer any questions, I wanted to take a moment.” He glanced at his father who had nothing but approval and encouragement written across his face. Ari could probably start quacking like a duck and the king wouldn’t blink. “And my apologies for going off-script with the first words out of my mouth.”
