Missing Royal (3 page)

Today the day I’ve been dreading. My birthday. And that means it will be the past four days rolled into one with cake and singing. I set my alarm clock to let me sleep another half hour before I have to face the music—literally.

I roll over and pull the blankets over my head in hopes that it will somehow help the time pass slower. Or perhaps I will fall back asleep sooner. Or better yet, they’ll hide me from this day completely.

“Shanice?” my mother asks softly. No luck is with me this day. I almost pretend to be asleep but I know I can’t pull it off. I move around far too much for it to be believable.

“Don’t I get to sleep in on my birthday?” I moan, hoping she’ll agree and let me go back to sleep.

“Sorry, sweetie. Not this time. Your father and I have quite a bit planned and we want to get started on your party bright and early!” says excitedly. It isn’t needed. I groan and whine some more as I throw back the covers. Shivering and covered in goose bumps, I make my way toward the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As soon as I’m finished I pull my hair back and braid it down my back.

When I exit the bathroom, both my mother and father are standing at the base of the stairs ready to leave, looking up at me with smiles plastered on their faces.

“I’ll be out in one minute. Gotta change my clothes.” I sigh, using all my willpower not to roll my eyes as I hurry into my room and throw on a pair of jeans and a blouse.

I slip on a pair of flats, grab my sunglasses, purse, and jacket and meet my parents at the bottom of the stairs. “So, where’re we going?” I plaster on a smile of my own and hope it appears genuine.

“Well, we thought we would start at a little jewelry shop. We want to get you a nice set of earrings and perhaps a matching necklace. How does that sound?” My mother takes my arm and leads me out the door as my father locks it behind us. I get into the back seat of our small car.

“That sounds fantastic.” I play with my earlobe, noting the lack of jewelry I wear—or own, for that matter. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate jewelry—I’ve just never had a need for it. It’s the same reason I don’t wear makeup. There’s no point. I don’t go anywhere where makeup is needed. Sword fighting, I wear a mask. Swimming, it would run all over the place. Camping? Who’s gonna be looking at me, the squirrels? The only other place I go is horseback riding with Valentino. And then I get sweaty from riding.

Besides, Valentino isn’t the kind of guy who’s attracted to a girl who wears little clothing and lots of makeup. I’ve seen the girls who come to the stables to horseback ride. Most of them do it simply to get his attention, and it never works. I’ve watched his reactions all year. He just doesn’t care. And it makes me love him even more. He always prefers to ride with me. I smile just thinking about it.

“Here we are! And it doesn’t look too busy. That’s always a plus, right?” My mother laughs, little chiming laughs. It’s contagious.

“Yeah, it is,” I say, laughing with her.

“We might have lied just a little bit,” she adds.

“Oh?” I don’t know what else to say. I can hope they are joking and aren’t really spending money on jewelry for me after all.

“We already picked something out for you. We just had them change the stone. I hope you like it.” She grabs my arm and leads me inside. Again, Dad’s taking care of the door.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Tetreault,” the boy behind the register greets her. She seems so happy—buying stuff for me, no less. And I just don’t understand it. “Your set is ready. And is this the lovely lady it’s for?” He gestures to me.

“It is! Can she try it on?”

“Of course. It’s paid in full, so it’s yours to take. I just need you to sign here, saying you’re satisfied with the changes and that you’ve picked it up.” He places the box on the counter with a paper beside it.

My father turns to the paper as my mother goes for the box. They seem to be a match made in heaven. And they make a pretty amazing team.

I take a deep breath, not knowing what to expect before I take the box from my mother’s hands, place it back on the counter, and pull off the lid. The first thing that comes to mind is that this isn’t for me. It’s too fine, too beautiful—it’s fit for a queen.

Silver flowers cascade down with perfect emeralds set in the center. I very carefully pull it from the box and put it on.

The necklace hangs low enough that if I were wearing a ball gown, the gems would fit perfectly between my throat and the neckline of the dress. And the earrings that match are stunning. They end just before touching my shoulders.

I have to try and not cry as I turn to my parents. I’m losing the battle as tears pool in my eyes. “Thank you. It’s absolutely stunning! It’s something fit for royalty.” I want to tell them I don’t need it, that I don’t want it, that it must have cost a fortune and they should return it and keep the money.

Instead, I spin around and look in the mirror. I feel like a queen. “We’re glad you like it.” My father puts his hand on my shoulder and smiles at me in the mirror. I see tears in his eyes as well. “It was made for a princess indeed.” I just smile at his words.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.” My mother waves to the man behind the counter and begins walking to the door. I grab my jewelry box and follow after her.

Once safely back inside the car, I remove the necklace and earrings and return them to the box. There’s no way I can walk around all day wearing them.

I look back up, overjoyed by this gift—as much as I don’t need it. We’re all in the car, ready to leave. Only we’re not leaving. I’m about to ask but mom turns around to speak to me before I can.

“We thought we would go to breakfast, as you didn’t eat before we left. How does that sound?”

I nod, happy with just about anything we do at this point.

We leave the jewelry store parking lot and drive south for ten minutes. I can’t take my eyes off the necklace, so I hardly pay attention to the road or where we’re going.

I can hear my parents talking but it seems to be muffled as another voice hits me.
Your time has come, love. It’s time to come home.

I take in a sharp breath, filled with emotions that aren’t my own. Pain, longing, excitement. I clench my teeth, holding in every noise so my parents don’t look back. I don’t know what’s going on but I can’t take these voices—or this voice, I suppose—any longer. Whatever it is, I’m sick of it.

We pull into a parking lot, thank goodness. It means I can eat and pretend the past thirty seconds never happened. I stash my gift beneath the seat and get out as soon as the car is parked and head to the doors, ready for food. I put a bounce in my step and a smile on my face.

We are seated immediately and I look on the menu right away, despite knowing exactly what I want. Eggs Benedict and chocolate milk. It’s my go-to breakfast. My go-to meal, really.

“Hon, are you all right?” Mom puts her cold fingers over my hand. I look into her eyes and see worry. But more, I see pain. I don’t know why. She didn’t hear anything in the car or she would’ve said something then.

“I’m wonderful. Thank you for the gift!” I smile, and this one is genuine.

“Can I take your order?” the waitress asks, interrupting Mom’s reply.

“Yes. We’d like two breakfast specials and your eggs Benedict with two glasses of orange juice and a glass of chocolate milk.” Dad orders for all of us. It makes me happy, knowing he knows exactly what I want.

As soon as the waitress writes down the order, she leaves, and my mother takes my hand again. “We’re so proud of you, dear. We just want you to be happy. And you never know when some good jewelry will be needed. Especially as you get older and move on.” She wipes tears from her eyes and I’m a little taken aback.

Is she crying? Over jewelry? “You’re right. Thank you. I don’t know when I’ll need it but I can’t take my eyes off it.” I laugh, a little worried now.

“Your mother’s right. We’re very proud of you. You have become a beautiful, strong, smart young woman. We’re sure you will succeed in every aspect of your life. If you set your mind to it, nothing can stop you.” My dad adds, tears in his eyes too.

I laugh. “Guys, I’m only seventeen! You still have me for a whole year. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” I smile, shaking my head and talking with my hands.

“That’s.” One word, and I recognize his voice. One word and my eyes shoot up to see why Valentino is standing beside our table. “Where you’re wrong.” He looks so solemn.

I look back and forth between the three of them. The tears my parents are crying—they aren’t happy tears. And the look on Valentino’s face? Yeah, this says something is serious.

The question is, what can it possibly be that involves both my parents and my horseback-riding teacher/best friend? “I—I don’t understand. Why would I be going anywhere?” At this point, I want to wake up from this horrible dream.

My mother? She’s no longer silently crying. She’s sobbing. Dad wraps his arm around her to comfort her but he’s hardly crying any less. “I can’t tell her,” she mumbles.

“Please,” my dad says to Valentino. One word, and he seems to know what it means.

Valentino turns to me but still avoids meeting my gaze. “Shanice, I’m here to take you home.” I’m about to protest but he must have seen it coming because he puts a hand up to stop me. “Your
real
home. You’re not from around here. In fact, neither one of us are.”

“I know I didn’t grow up here—we moved here when I was seven. But what does that have to do with anything?” I’m growling, almost yelling at him. And I feel bad. But at the same time, I want answers.

“Shanice.” Mom takes my hand again. “He’s right. Things are more complicated than that. You see, your father and I wanted kids for a long time but we knew it could never happen. One day, we got an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

My dad picks up where Mom leaves off as she bursts into tears again. “We were offered
you
. The chance to take care of you, to be your parents for a while—at least until your birth parents could take care of you again. They said we could have you until you turned seventeen.”

Mom takes over again. “It was a hard choice. We knew it would affect you. We knew it would take its toll on all of us. But since the moment we laid eyes on you, we knew we couldn’t give up the chance to have you be ours—if only for a while. And it’s been the greatest seventeen years of our lives. We don’t want to say good-bye but we have to.”

“Did it ever occur to them that I wouldn’t want to leave? That I would choose to stay with you?” Tears spring into my eyes. Since when were they not my parents? Why couldn’t my birth parents take care of me? It doesn’t make sense. I’m so lost. So confused. So hurt.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I suppose they never thought about it being an issue.”

“Why? Why did they have to let me go in the first place?” It’s all I can get out. Tears are now streaming down my own face. I was right. Something is going on. They’re getting rid of me—sending me away.

“Your life was in danger. You’re important at home, more important than you could possibly imagine. They had to protect you, no matter the cost. And now that you’re old enough to know the truth, they need you. They need your help.” Valentino stays mostly calm. He speaks through gritted teeth. His eyes remain dry.

“And how do you fit into all this?” I ask him.

“Who’s the first real friend you’ve had?” He sits beside me now and takes my hand into his.

I look into his eyes, knowing he’s aware of the answer. But I say it anyway. “You.”

“Home isn’t on this world, Shanice. It’s why you’ve never fit in. It’s why you’ve never had any real friends. We’re from the same world. I volunteered to come and take care of you, watch over you, and bring you home safely when the time came so you didn’t have to go it alone. And the time is now. Your world, our world, needs you.”

I slide my hand from Valentino’s grip as my palms start sweating. My heart is racing. I’m not sure if this is a joke or if they’re serious or if I heard wrong. “Where is home? How do we get to this other world? This doesn’t seem real.” As I say that, I realize that it does. I’ve never fit in. Never. It makes perfect sense in an odd, twisted way.

And the fact that I don’t look like either of my parents? It explains quite a bit there. I suppose I always assumed I had one of my grandparents’ skin and hair. That, or I was adopted—and that one seems to be the truth.