Chapter Two

She stood in my doorway, with arms crossed, foot tapping, and a general expression of distaste on her face.

We stood there for several moments—her: foot tapping, me: gawking, and Richard hovering uncertainly over my shoulder, unsure what to do, but obvious willing to provide back up for whatever I decided was necessary.

Finally, the woman in red seemed to become so annoyed with my lack of action that she stopped tapping her foot and turned to glare at me, "So, Koriand'r, are you going to let me in, or are you going to just make me stand out here all day?" she demanded with a strong accent that I can't quite place, so it came out more like, "So, Koriand'r, are vou goa-ing tvo let m-ay in, or are vou goa-ing to jew-st make m-ay stand oh-ut hair all day."

I tightened my hands on the doorframe, blocking her in case she decided to make a run into my house, and I felt Richard tense beside me, "I don't know…" I said, feeling like I had lost all my bearings, "Why should I let you in?"

She stared at me for several beats blankly, "You mean, Galfore did not tell you to expect me?"

"What?" I asked in confusion, "You know Galfore?"

She rolled her eyes at my apparent ignorance, "Yes, of course I know Galfore, you silly girl. What do they teach you in these American schools?"

"Not to let strangers into my home," I returned coolly, "Especially strangers who have been following me all day."

Her eyes seemed to light with some kind of recognition, almost as if I've gained some kind of respect from her because of my refusal, or perhaps from simply being aware enough to notice her following me (although tip: if you want to follow someone, don't wear a bright red two piece suit, it really makes you stick out), "I am no stranger. You do not remember me?"

I frowned, both at her tone and as I tried to remember, "Remember you from what?"

"From Tameran."

The two words sent a sort of shock through my heart that I wasn't anticipating.

Perhaps because Galfore has told me so little of Tameran, perhaps because I haven't visited in so long, perhaps because my sister is there right now—something about Tameran's mention always sets me on edge.

I may not remember Tameran with 100% clarity, but I do remember feeling like a stranger for the first several years I spent in the United States. I consider it my home—I guess I don't like a reminder that I have another home.

For this variety of reasons, my frown deepened, "I don't remember anyone or anything from Tameran—much less you."

"Mm," the woman in red said, who despite her insistences that she knew me—and she did know my Tamerian name—had yet to introduce herself. She made a noise signaling her non-committance , "Yes, but you are no stranger to me. And I assure you I am not hear to harm you—did Galfore really not tell you of my arrival?"

I hesitated, "He told me to expect a guest tonight…"

"Yes, that would be me," she replied impatiently.

And then she said nothing.

And well, I wasn't the one currently trying to force my way into another person's home, so I wasn't about to speak up.

Consequently? We spent the next several moments staring at each other.

"Is this not a conversation we can have inside?" she tried again.

"I still don't know you," I returned curtly.

She rolled her eyes once more, "Yes, so you have said. But I know you. Surely you can let me inside, I am sure your boyfriend will not let any harm come to you."

I found myself frowning again, "I'm not sure what that has to do with anything…"

"You are a very annoying girl," she said briskly, but not cruelly, "If I show you my papers—if I can prove I am from Tameran—will you at least let me inside? It is starting to rain, and I would prefer not to spend the remainder of my trip in the rain. We have some very important matters to discuss, and I would very much not like to have to discuss it in wet clothes. I left all my items in my hotel room."

The situation was getting way too bizarre for me—I don't even have my driver's license! How am I supposed to make decisions about whether or not to let strange women into my house?

I turned to Richard, searching for some kind of support, thoroughly bewildered, "I… um…"

Richard, who up to this time had been standing quietly behind me, observing, walked forward to the door, "Give us a minute to think about it," he told her.

"A minute? In this rain?" she questioned, eyebrow raised, and obviously not pleased with the plan.

"You're standing on a covered patio," he pointed out, "You have a roof over your head—it won't hurt you to wait a minute while we think about it."

She turned her assessing eye to him, "No," she said slowly, "I suppose not."

"Good," he said, and then closed the door.

"Richard!" I exclaimed in shock as soon as the door is closed—he just closed the door in a woman who may or may not be Galfore's guest's face! I also find myself a bit relieved that someone finally took some action—we couldn't have stayed there with the door open, bantering back and forth, till Galfore got home. Who knew how long that would be?

I find myself increasingly thankful that Richard did insist on walking me to my door.

"What?" he protested amicably, "Obviously you need to think about it—it's a weird situation, and we can't exactly have her listening in."

I shook my head, even though I agreed with him, I just felt as if I needed to clear my head, "No, I suppose you're right… it just feels rather rude to shut the door in her face, does it not?"

He lifted an eyebrow, "Better than it feels to let a stranger into your house who seems to know a lot about you without any consideration."

I shivered, "It sounds so eerie when you say it like that."

"Kori, hate to be the one to break it to you, but it's just kind of eerie, period."

I bit my lip, "So what do you think I should do?"

Richard replied slowly, as if he was weighing each option carefully over in his mind before he said anything, "I think that she seems to know a lot about your life—either suggesting she is who she says she is, or she's really dangerous. I think the odds that she's the latter and has a Tameran passport… are less likely. And I think that if she was that dangerous, we couldn't really stop her if we wanted to—but it is two against one."

"So you think I should let her in?"

"I think you should do whatever makes you feel most comfortable," he said firmly, "But I'm not leaving until Galfore gets back."

I sighed, and found myself pacing in the narrow entrance hallway, working my own way through the logic, "So you think if she has a Tameran passport?"

"I think it's a good indicator she is who she says she is," Richard replied reasonably, even as he watches my movements with a bemused expression, "How many people have Tameran passports just with them?"

I nodded as I continued to pace, "That's true. And I would hate to just be overly suspicious and cause Galfore to become upset…"

Richard nodded as well, "And Kori, I meant what I said… together, I think we can handle whatever she throws at us."

"I think that's what those kids always say in the horror movies before they're hunted down," I mused with a grin aimed in his direction.

Richard returned my grin with one of his own, "I think if you're making jokes, you're OK to let her in," I smiled in response and turned to unlock the door, but then Richard placed a warm hand on my shoulder that made me pause, "And Kori? Don't forget, sometimes, those kids make it out of those horror movies. And even if only one of us did—you're the beautiful girl lead, you're more likely than me to survive."

I tried to ignore the beat of my heart when he calls me beautiful and instead said, "Is that supposed to make me feel better, Richard? I don't want you to die either!"

"Just open the door," Richard said with an amused shake of his head.

Grinning, I did just that.

"Well?" the woman in red said, except of course with her accent it comes out more like 'vell'. I've never heard anyone else from Tameran—by which I mean Galfore, and my sister, Koma, with accents like that.

"If you show me your passport, and it checks out, then yeah, I'll let you in until Galfore arrives," I told her, making sure my spine was straight and trying hard to maintain a steely glance in my eyes.

She only snorted—either at my attempt of bravado or because of my words, I'm not sure, "I am glad to see your little boyfriend was able to talk some sense into you," but despite the irritated tone, she held good on her word, and went rooting through her bag for the passport nonetheless. She finally flashed it to me quickly, but I took it out of her hands and spent several moments inspecting it as thoroughly as I know how. It all seemed to check out to me. It looked exactly like Galfore's upstairs as far as I could tell, although of course the picture and the name are different.

"Do I pass your approval?" she deamnded, with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh… yes…" I said, although I regret it almost immediately, but I am still, no matter what, a girl of my word. I moved over to the left and said, still unsure if I was doing the right thing,, "So… you can come in now."

"So gracious," the woman commented sarcastically as she entered.

"Uh… right," I said, still feeling a bit woozy from all the sudden turn of events as I closed the door behind her, "So should I call you… Ms… De Mille?" I asked, remembering the name on the passport I just inspected.

She sashayed her way over to my kitchen and with a barely there turn of her head glanced back at me, "Please. Call me Madam De Mille."

Richard, who is standing behind her, exchanged looks with me at that.

Who asks to be called Madam?

But now that I had let her in the house, I decided to be as unfailingly polite as Galfore had always instructed me to be with any guest.

So with a tight smile I offered a mollifying, "Of course… Madam De Mille," even as I hurried after her in the kitchen, where there are of course many sharp implements she could use to start harming us, or at least ruin the curtains, "Is there anything I can get you?"

"Mm," she made a noncommittal noise as she surveyed the kitchen with a disdainful eye, "I am feeling a bit parched."

Richard, who is standing behind Madam De Mille at this point, arms crossed, and leaning against the wall that marks the entrance way into my kitchen, shot me a look of both disbelief and askance over her shoulder. I turned to the refrigerator to try to hide my laughter from Madam De Mille.

"Uh… right," I said nervously, "So I guess you would like something to drink? Do you like juice? Or soda? Or…?"

"Just water for me," she said, but of course she pronounces it like vater.

"Of course," I said, and turn to the cabinet to get her a glass.

In the millisecond I am distracted with attempting to secure her her requested beverage, she turned to Richard, "I do not believe I caught your name," she drawled.

He raised an eyebrow in response, "I don't believe I gave it to you," he returned coolly.

"Well that hardly seems fair—you know my name after all," although Madam De Mille's tone is obviously aiming for reasonable, there is a dangerous glint to her eyes, a posturing of her shoulders that suggests she is enjoying all of this.

"Richard Grayson," he said in clipped tones, which will not exactly rude, isn't exactly polite either. It certainly invites no further conversation.

Which is just as well, as Madam De Mille apparently does not intend to continue her conversation with Richard, as she turned to me, and said, in Tamerian no less, "And this is the boy you choose to make your boyfriend?"

I immediately turned very red, firstly because Richard is regarding her curiously (I do not exactly blame him—there are very few, if any, Tamerians in California. And Galfore and I certainly never speak Tamerian around others. It is also a very strange language, very brisk, it sounds like something warring aliens would speak), and secondly because I turn very red anytime anyone insinuates I'm dating anyone (especially Richard), "That is really none of your business," I replied in Tamerian, and then added as an afterthought, "And he is a very nice boy. You do not know him to pass such judgement."

Instead of looking offended at my retort, Madam De Mille looked only pleased, "Ah, so you still know some Tamerian. Good. Although your accent… it needs some work," and as I'm standing there gaping at her she turned her glance back to Richard, "And you know Koriand'r how?"

I blushed, not only at the intrusion—she is after all, not my parental figure and has no right to be questioning the intentions of boys she thinks may or may not be my boyfriend, and furthermore, I don't really know her at all. But I am also not fond of the way she has of throwing around the Tamerian pronunciation of my name. It felt like some sort of violation, but which, I was not sure.

If Richard noticed, he did not comment on it, "We go to school together," is what he said in reply to Madam De Mille's question.

Which, I guess was strictly true, even if it left out many of the important details, details which render our relationship as completely platonic. (At least from his point of view—although I noticed he had done nothing to correct Madam De Mille's insinuation that we were dating, which did all sorts of funny things to my heart.)

"How do you know Galfore?" he fired back, not giving Madam De Mille time to ask more questions about our 'relationship'.

"We are from the same country," she said, "Tameran… it is not a large country. A quarter of the size of Switzerland, as I am sure you are aware. And I knew…" she pursed her lips, seemingly trying to find the right words, "Koriand'r's family well."

"You did?" I asked, surprised to hear this.

She narrowed her eyes in my direction, "I did."

I handed her the glass of water as I considered this fact, "I don't remember you."

"No, I do not suppose you would," she commented as she took the glass from my hands, eyes regarding me carefully, "You were very young when you left."

I fiddled with my hands to have something to do, "So you knew my parents?" I asked, hoping that I did not sound too desperate.

"Not as well as some," she said warily, "But better than many. I worked closely with them for many years. They were remarkable people."

I smiled tightly, "That's what everyone says."

It's true. When your parents are dead, that's what everyone says.

Which is nice and all, but I hardly feel like I get an accurate picture of what they were like.

"I believe the topic of your parents will be left for a better discussion once Galfore arrives," she commented in a way that made it clear that she would not be discussing the subject of my parents anymore until Galfore got home.

But that of course begged the question—there was a plan to discuss my parents? For so long, we had not been allowed to talk of them much. It wasn't every explicitly stated, only implicitly, and the implication had always been that I would find out more details as I got older. So the idea we would be discussing my parents… well, it had my eyebrows shooting through the roof, "You're here to discuss my parents?" I asked, dumfounded.

"Among other things," she said airily and then turned once more to Richard, "What year are you in high school?"

He had yet to un-cross his arms, "I'm a senior."

She made a noise of concession, "And you took Koriand'r home from school today?"

"Yeah. She was real worried about some creep who kept following her around," he said pointedly.

She snorted, "Well, I hardly was following her. I merely went to see if she wanted a ride home…" she gave Richard what cannot be described as anything but the stink eye—imagine, sitting in my kitchen, drinking my water, and giving my supposed boyfriend the stink eye! "But I suppose she did not need that with you around."

"No, she didn't," he said simply.

She took a long sip of her water before speaking again, "I saw no car outside, am I to assume that the two-wheeled vehicle outside belongs to you?"

"If you did, you would be assuming correctly," Richard retorted.

She glanced at me, "Galfore could not be too happy about that."

"I am sixteen. I can make a few decisions for myself," I told her, and then decide to defend my pseudo-boyfriend, since he has been fielding Madam De Mille's questions for the last several minutes, "And Richard is a very safe driver."

What Madam De Mille opens her mouth to say next, I will never know, I was spared that particular joy, because it is at that moment (thank God) that I heard the front door bang open and jolly laughter that can mean only one thing: Galfore is home.

Galfore waltzed into the kitchen with a cheery smile and took his coat off to hang it up on the peg he had designated for his outdoor coat. As soon as he sees me standing in the kitchen, near the refrigerator, he smile widened, "Hello my little bumgorf, how was your day?"

"Very well," I answered with a smile, "A little strange though."

It is then that Galfore surveyed the motley crew gathered in the kitchen. Galfore, however, has no concept of strained tensions between people—perhaps because he dissolves them so easily. As he saw Richard, he beamed at him, "Oh hello Richard, I didn't see you there. How nice to see you! I hear congratulations are in order!"

Richard looked surprised, "Congratulations?"

Galfore ambled over to Richard and clapped him once heavily on the shoulder. With a hearty laugh he said, "Of course! It's not everyday someone gets into Columbia!"

I turned, blinking at Richard, in the approximate hour we had spent together today outside of school—and the approximate hour we spent everyday together in school, he hadn't mentioned anything to me at all! "You got into Columbia? Congratulations, Richard!"

He shrugged, and looked embarrassed at the attention focused on him, "I haven't made any decisions yet," he muttered.

"Still, Richard, that's great!" I enthused, even though my heart kind of felt as if it were breaking. I know Columbia is a great school and it has great opportunities, and it's not like Richard and I'll ever be anything other than we are now (friends—who text occasionally, but are essentially friends through circumstance. Our main circumstance being that I am best friends with his sister, which completely stalls our relationship at its current station), but, just the thought of him being on the other side of the country, that I would have a lot less chances to see him… well… it kind of hurts.

I wasn't expecting it.

He shrugged again, still looking pretty embarrassed, "Thanks."

Galfore smiled and moved away from Richard, "Richard, my boy, I'd normally invite you to stay and have dinner with us, but tonight is a… special sort of night. Family only," he said, which made me wonder even more who this mysterious Madam De Mille was, "We should all celebrate for you soon, though. We will miss having you around."

"Thanks. But I haven't made any decisions yet," Richard reiterated, "Besides, I still haven't heard back from a lot of places…"

I hopped up from the kitchen stool I was sitting on, "It's okay, Galfore, Richard was just leaving. I'll walk him to the door."

Galfore looked very distraught, "I am sorry to be so rude to kick you out, my boy…"

Richard held up his hands, "No, I'm sorry to have intruded."

"Nonsense!" Galfore barked out loudly, sometimes Galfore has problems with his voice modulation, "We will have to see you before your leave is all."

Richard looked amused at that, "I should hope so. We're several months away from that."

I tugged on Richard's arm, "Yes, Galfore, I am sure we will see him again. But now Richard really has to leave."

"Of course. Goodbye, Richard," Galfore replied cheerily.

"Bye, Galfore," Richard said with a wave as I continued to pull him down the hallway. Once we are out of earshot he turns to look at me with a brow raised, "Can't wait to get rid of me, can you?"

I flushed, "No, that's not it at all… I'm just…"

"A little anxious to find out what this woman's deal is?" Richard finished with a knowing smile.

I smiled in return, relieved he understood without me having to say anything, "A little."

"Look, Kori," Richard said, placing his hands on my shoulders, it's a comforting gesture, certainly nothing sexual, but nonetheless, it caused me to become so distracted I almost forgot to pay attention to what he was saying, "I want you to tell me—that is if your comfortable—well, at least just let me know you're okay once this is all over? Even if you just tell Rachel to tell me… okay?"

"That… that's very kind," I said, because I did not no what else to say, or how to tell him I was touched by the gestured.

He shook his head, "Just promise me?"

I nodded, "I promise," I told him, "But now…"

He smiled at me, "Yeah, yeah, I'm going."

I opened the door and gave him another grateful smile, "And thank you again for… everything today."

"Kori," Richard said, turning back and facing me over the doorstep, "Anytime—and I mean it."

I smiled at him and wave goodbye.

It's too bad anytime will be a lot less frequent when he is on the East Coast next year.

I am still thinking about what a kind man Richard is when I walked back into the kitchen, only to see Galfore and Madam De Mille, heads bent, in a whispered and obvious serious conversation.

They break apart immediately when I entered.

We all stared at one another for several moments.

I was the one who finally broke the silence, "Galfore… Madam De Mille… now that Richard is gone, will someone please inform me exactly as to what is going on?" I asked.

Galfore had the grace to look embarrassed, but Madam De Mille only looked bored at the idea.

She turned to him, "Do you wish to do the honors, or would you like me to?"

Galfore rung his hands together, "I think it might be best if you explained—and then, then Kori can ask me any questions she has," he said to her, and then shot me a pleading glance, "I just… I want to say, my little bumgorf, everything I have done is for your own good…and if it was not currently for these extenuating circumstances then… we would not be troubling you with this now."

This certainly has peaked my interest. As well as my concern.

"Galfore…" I said feeling faint of breath and worried, "What is going on?"

"Allow me," Madam De Mille interrupted curtly, "Koriand'r… what do you know about why you left Tameran?"

I listed off what I knew as if she had asked me the names of the planets: just the dry, basic facts. I intoned, "Galfore was a good friend of my parents. And after they died, he thought Tameran wasn't such a safe place for me and my sister, so he took us here to America to raise us. But when Koma was old enough, she was allowed to return to Tameran. She decided to go to school there once she graduated from high school here."

Madam De Mille nodded, "Almost entirely correct—except for the finer details. And of course, the finer details, they make all the difference."

I furrowed my brow, "What do you mean?"

She leaned forward on her own bar stool, "Your parents were not just anyone in Tameran."

"They weren't?"

"They were very important people," she supplied.

"How important?"

She took a long sip of her water, when she finished, her eyes bore into mine, it was obviously time for the Very. Serious. Part of the conversation, "Very. They were the King and Queen of Tameran."

As soon as she got the words out, I found myself collapsing, unable to stand any longer as my legs simply gave out from under me. Luckily, there was a bar stool behind me, so I simply fell upon that as I looked up at both of them with wide eyes, "What… but I… surely…this is a joke yes?" I turned to Galfore, "Is this… a joke? Are we on a reality television show?"

He sighed, "No, I'm afraid my little bumgorf, that this is the truth."

"But," I objected, as I continued to process this ridiculous news they delivered with such gravity, "That would make me a…"

"Princess," he said gently, "Yes it does."

"And Koma…?"

Galfore hesitated for a fraction of a second before he replied, "She is also a princess."

"And she happens to be first in line for the throne," Madam De Mille added.

I shook my head, me a Princess, and Koma, first in line for the throne? To rule a country? She couldn't even make her bed regularly! It couldn't be true, "Even if this was all true…"

"It is," Madam De Mille replied briskly, but she also sounded a bit amused with my denial.

"Right…" I acquiesced, "but even if it all was true… why are you telling me this? Now?"

Galfore and Madam De Mille exchanged meaningful looks.

"What? Is… someone trying to have me killed? Or making a claim for a throne?" I stood up suddenly, fear hitting me like a ton of bricks as my mind continued to consider the possibilities, "I am not going to be expected to make decisions for a country that was so dangerous I had to leave when I was four and one I know nothing about as its one and only leader am I?"

"It is likely," Madam De Mille admitted.

Galfore shot her a somewhat dirty look (whereas Madam De Mille always seemed to have an aura of disdain, Galfore always had an aura of cheeriness, so he could never shoot anyone a truly dirty look), "Laura… we agreed we weren't going to spit it out like that…" he chastised.

She waved her hand dismissively, "She is a smart girl. No sense in beating around the bush, as you say in this country. Koriand'r, we thought it would never come to this… your sister was to take over the crown. That is where she went at 18, to learn, in Tameran, about its country and how to rule."

I turned to Galfore at this new revelation, "Koma has been keeping this secret from me too?" I asked, hurt by the prospect.

Galfore mirrored my hurt expression, "I am sorry my little bumgorf, we all decided it was best. We were going to tell you when you turned 18. As second in line… well, we did not think it would come to affect you."

"But it has? Somehow?" I asked desperately, feeling as if I were grasping at straws.

Galfore and Madam De Mille exchanged looks once more.

"Yes…" Madam De Mille said, and then coughed, "It turns out… your sister, royal life has not agreed with her so much. Although she had all the makings of a great Queen, and in fact, seemed to be coming along quite well for some time… now…"

"She has deserted the throne," Galfore said tonelessly.

"She… has deserted the throne?" I repeated, not quite sure if I had heard him correctly..

"Yes," Madam De Mille said, "And although you were second in line for the throne now you are…"

"First in line," I filled in the gaps dumbly. I sat for a moment to absorb this before I looked back at Madam De Mille, "Why did we have to leave?" I asked suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Madam De Mille asked.

I explained myself, "If we were royalty… why did we have to leave? Shouldn't we have had all the protection money could buy? Wasn't it… more important for us to stay in our home country, give our people hope?"

Madam De Mille shook her head, and pressed her lips firmly together, as if she was trying to stop herself from spilling a big secret—but what other secret could she be hiding from me? One that would compare with being a princess, "You truly know very little of Tameran. It is a long and complex history… you have much to learn."

"I can't rule a country that I know nothing about," I replied, feeling my mouth go dry.

"No," Madam De Mille said watching me carefully, "You most certainly cannot. Which is why I'm here."

I furrowed my brow, "I thought… you were just here to break the news."

"No, I am here for more than that. I am here to teach you about everything you could need to know about being a future ruler of Tameran."

"Kori, I came as soon as I could," Rachel said, flushed from the evidence of her obvious hurrying—hair windblown in the way it can only be if you've been out running around in the elements (the kind that doesn't look anything like a model's), jacket unevenly buttoned, and one leg of her pants bunched up above her boots—rushing in and ignoring the stares of passer-bys, "What's wrong?" she asked breathlessly as soon as she was within earshot of me.

I had asked Rachel to meet me in my favorite spot: the Jump City Art Museum. It's only fifteen minutes from my house, and, well, it's where I feel the most at peace.

"Thanks for coming," I told her with a watery smile.

Rachel regarded me and my watery smile warily, "What's wrong? Richard told me that…" she hesitated, "Some weird stuff was going down at your house earlier."

I laughed, not quite unlike a psychopath, and said, "He doesn't know the half of it."

Rachel looked around. She quickly noted that many people openly staring at us—the girl with the windblown hair, and the girl who looked like she was about to cry—and made an executive decision, "Come on, let's go to the café, it'll be less conspicuous if we want to talk."

I sniffled, "I think that sounds like a marvelous idea," I said.

As we made our way to the café, Rachel shot my several concerned looks, but waited until we are seated and handed menus before she leaned across the table and said, "Ok, serious, spill."

"Oh Rachel…" I cried out, "I am simply not sure of where to start."

She arched an eyebrow, but otherwise did not comment on my blubbering, "What about the beginning? Tell me what happened after you told me you were going to catch the bus."

So I did.

I told her the whole sordid affair. I told her about the woman I kept seeing, how I didn't tell her because I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy or making a big something out of nothing, but it finally got to be too weird, and then Richard gave me a ride home, and then I had the shock dropped on me of my life.

Rachel just kept one eyebrow raised the entire time I talked, "Wait… so you're really," she lowered her voice, "royalty?"

"Galfore would not lie to me," I said miserably.

Rachel couldn't help but let out a crooked smile at my apparent plight, "But isn't that what every girl dreams of? To suddenly be told she's a princess of a far off and beautiful land? You can't tell me you wouldn't enjoy a good ball."

I laughed, "Of course I would enjoy a good ball, it's more the other aspects of princess-hood I'm worried about. Making decisions that affect an entire country, for example. And what if they force me to go along with an arranged marriage? Maybe I won't even be allowed to go to college now! I can't be a doctor now, Rachel."

Rachel's other eyebrow had shot up to accompany its brother, "Was that ever in the cards?" she asked sardonically.

I glared, not appreciating the current lack of support emanating from my supposed best friend, "I will never have a normal life again."

"Yeah," Rachel said in what for her passes as an amicable tone, "But your life probably wasn't ever going to be too normal. Face it Kori, you were never a normal girl. And sure, ruling a country is… a lot to think about at 16… but you're kind, and rational, and smart, and you'll make a great ruler. Especially if you surround yourself with people like Galfore."

"But Rachel," I objected, how could she make it all sound so reasonable when it all felt like the least reasonable thing in the world? "Who knows if I will ever be able to see you again! We won't be able to go to college together, or share a dorm, or, do any of the things we ever talked about."

"Kori," Rachel said, leaning across the table and putting her hand on mine, "We'll always be friends. No matter what… and maybe the details of the friendship will have changed, but our friendship is rock solid. Doesn't matter what job you're doing, or where you are in the world. We'll always be friends."

"That's beautiful, Rachel," I said through my blubbers.

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled so I also know she's actually touched by the sentiment as well, "Besides, don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself? This woman—"

"Madam De Mille," I supplied.

Rachel nodded, "Right, she's here to teach you some of the basics. No one knows you're royal, so it's a super lower pressure environment to learn in. Besides, your sister is only, what 20?"

"21," I corrected.

"Right. She's got plenty of time to change her mind," Rachel pointed out, "She's going to come back soon, I bet, ready to take over the crown. She's probably got to blow off some steam. So don't worry about ruling a whole country right now, worry about getting through English class. And learning a little about this country you were born to take control of, and then go from there. No one's saying you can't abdicate if it really comes to that."

I let out a deep breath, "Rachel, apparently my family has ruled Tameran for the last 700 years—I'm their last option. Both my parents were only children. If I don't rule…"

"Kori," Rachel warned, "One step at a time, okay? But you'll have me the whole way through. And you'll have Galfore. And Gar. And Richard. And all our friends, okay?"

I sniffled, "You're right…"

"I know I am," she replied with a smirk, and then leaned back in her chair, taking her hand off of mine, "Besides, it's a secret for now, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"So you have some time to think about this whole thing before it goes all hay-wire, right?" Rachel asked.

I nodded, this is what was so great about Rachel, she could put everything totally in perspective, "Yes," I said, feeling better already as I thought about it, "I have some time to think…"

Except I really, really did not.

The next morning, Rachel picked me up at 7:32 am, as she usually did.

"Hey champ," she said gamely as I clambered into the car, "How you holding up?"

I shrugged as I settled into the car and flipped the radio station—this time, Rachel did not change it immediately from my favorite pop station, "It's all a little weird… but… on the plus side… Galfore feels very guilty," I said, holding up a brown bag for proof, "And he has been baking for me since he broke the news to me last night."

"Oh, nothing says I'm sorry for not telling you you're the heir to a small European country like baked goods," Rachel quipped.

"Sh," I said immediately, looking around wildly, "I am trying to keep it a secret!"

Rachel raised an eyebrow, and gave a pointed glance around her car, "And your fear is that… my car is bugged in case something remotely interesting ever happens in either of our lives that the press will be immediately run with?"

"No," I said, and then, "Yes." I sighed, "I just… I'm afraid I'm somehow going to leak this… and that is the absolute last thing I need."

"Kori," Rachel said, sounding somewhat hurt by my insinuation, "I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I know you wouldn't on purpose," I insisted, "And to tell the truth, I am much less worried about you spilling the means than myself accidentally telling the whole world… I just, I need to feel like normal Kori today, you understand?"

"Of course," Rachel replied sympathetically, "I will make fun of your inability to understand anything literary, and you'll tell me that I'm being ridiculous, and we'll have lunch out by our tree—it'll be a completely normal day. We won't talk about it at all."

"Thank you," I said.

"But…" Rachel added, "If you do want to talk about, I am here."

"Thank you," I said again, because sometimes (most of the time) I am really grateful to have Rachel in my life.

Rachel pulled into the car parking lot, and we both can't help but notice that she has a little more trouble than usual to find a parking spot, because there are so many people crowded around the entrance of our esteemed school.

I turned to Rachel, suddenly feeling fairly numb inside, "You do not suppose…"

"No," Rachel shook her head firmly, "Not possible. They must all be… up in arms… about the tater tots."

I scowled, "Tater tots, really Rachel? That is the best you can do?"

"No, I, well, it could be something else," she hastened to add, giving me a look from the corner of her eye as she finally did secure a parking space, "But it couldn't be… not your news."

"No," I said, closing my eyes and wishing only for enough strength to get me through the day, "It couldn't possibly. Only four of us know… and none of us has even had time yet to accidentally reveal it."

"Right," Rachel affirmed with a nod, "It's got to be something like… our principal got caught in a sex-scandal."

I made a face, "I hope not."

"Me too…" she grinned at me, "But either way we'll make a break for it, OK? I mean, who wants their picture plastered on the news at 7:42 am before they even have time to do a bathroom check of their hair."

The last part was of course said for my benefit—Rachel never checks out how her hair is. She doesn't have to. When you have a neat bob like Rachel's, you can trust all the pieces to just fall into place, unlike my mess of a head of hair.

I took a deep breath, Rachel was probably right, it was nothing, and if it was something, well, I had Rachel by my side, "OK."

It did not appear that my morning was off to a promising when as soon as I exited the car the swarm of people (who now were quite clearly reporters, and not say, angry disgruntled parents at the lack of tater tots provided in their children's lunches) turned to me collectively and started coming closer, brandishing microphones.

Perhaps, I dared to hope, they wanted to know my current stance on the tater tot issue?

But it quickly became apparent that tater tots were not the main issue, nor was a principal sex scandal, when the reporters started to shout things like "Princess Koriand'r, how does it feel to know you're going to be ruling Tameran in a few short years?" in my direction.

Yes, impossible for them to know indeed.

So my cover was completely and entirely blown.

And it hadn't even been twelve hours!

I could only hope Tameran did not have any grand political secrets that needed hiding, because as soon as I took the throne, news stations would be finding out in less than twelve hours.

As soon as Rachel and I had fought our way into the school (Rachel saying 'no comment' to every question, and helping me push my way through as I focused on just looking at the ground), I told Rachel I needed to make a phone call. She asked me if I wanted her to come with me, so she could run interference, but I said it would probably be best if I went off on my own.

The reporters hadn't yet invaded the school, after all.

I had all intentions of running quickly into the bathroom and calling Galfore and asking him if he knew what in the world had just happened, or at least alerting him, and then making it back to class in time for homeroom.

Also, I planned to splash some water on my face. Maybe pinch myself a few times—just to make sure it wasn't all some crazy dream.

But I never made it to the bathroom. As I was on the way, Principal Light intercepted me, and asked me if I'd like to come to his office—except, he asked it in a way that made it clear it wasn't an actual request, but a demand.

I tried to make all sorts of excuses for why I had to go—just to run to the bathroom, for just five minutes, and then I could come. But he wouldn't hear of any of it, and dragged me to his office.

… where Madam De Mille was already waiting, sitting on a wooden chair normally reserved for potential expellees and not advisors to royal families.

"Madam De Mille," I asked, shocked, as Principal Light took his seat behind his desk with a grin, "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" she asked snottily, "Why, I heard that your little secret went spilling to the public, so of course I am here to help. Your principal," she said, flashing him a quick grin that looked more like an animal baring its teeth before attack than a smile to me, "Has been most kind in his assurances that he will do all he can to help us."

I collapsed in a chair next to her, "How did they find out?" I asked in a whisper.

"You did not tell them?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No!" I protested loudly and immediately, "Of course I did not!" Why would I tell anyone? All I wanted was to continue to keep a low-profile!

Madam De Mille purses her lips, "Did you tell any friends?"

I hesitated for a second too long.

She rolled her eyes, "You told that boyfriend of yours?"

I felt myself turning red and just really wished that Principal Light wasn't here, watching the whole exchange with a maniacal sort of smile.

"No!" I objected, "I told my best friend… I just… I needed to… have someone to talk to… who wasn't you or Galfore. We tell each other everything," Or I tell her everything, and she tells me most things. She would have definitely told me if she had suddenly found out she was a princess, "She didn't tell anyone. I promise you that."

Madam De Mille did not look entirely convinced, but she didn't argue the point either, "Then there is only one person who could have told."

"Who?" I asked, leaning forward, feeling a little breathless: finally, some answers!

"Your sister."

"But… why… she would…" I am stunned by the news. Shell-shocked.

It's true, Koma and I weren't ever as close as we could have been… and maybe Koma wasn't always the nicest sister, she never braided my hair or offered advice, and sometimes, she could be more cruel than kind, leave me at school without a ride, or make me do her chores… but something like that, that way crosses the line. And I'm not sure Koma would do that.

I might not have seen her in two years, but she is still my sister.

Madam De Mille sighed, "It is no matter. What is done is done. 'Who' is not our main question. The better question is: what shall we do now?"

I straightened my spine, making sure I was sitting up tall, before I said, "Well, I can't miss school."

She arched a brow, "So what do you propose?"

"I propose I just go about the day as usual," I shrugged, "They would have all found out anyway eventually."

A smile expanded across Madam De Mille's face, "Perhaps, you have the makings of a princess after all."

I had to agree to go to Princess lessons after school before Madam De Mille would let me go back to class.

Madam De Mille said it's really important that we do this, especially now that news has spread… and well, I have to admit, not only am I kind of curious about Tameran and what it means to be royalty, but it would also be nice to know the proper way to deal with reporters.

It's a Tuesday though, and so I have my time in the art studio after school (I have an hour reserved after school Tuesdays and Thursdays) and I won't budge on missing it, so with a sigh Madam De Mille agrees to allow me to go to my studio time, and she'll send a car for when it's done. But, she says it is expressly important I avoid all reporters and don't say so much as one word to them.

As if that wasn't my first instinct anyway.

By the time we finished out hashing all the details, first period and homeroom have passed, and it was time for Free, which I can only thank whatever few lucky stars were in my constellation that day.

If I was going to have to brave school, I was glad I could get my toes wet with Free before diving in headfirst.

Principal Light let me go a few minutes after the bell, so there weren't too many people in the hallway to gawk at me, but a few teachers who were stationed to monitor hallways to make sure no ruffians were attempting to deface any school property or skip class, stopped what they were doing nonetheless and began to openly stare, which didn't feel too unprofessional or anything.

I finally made my way to Free. And as soon as I walked into Free, I saw the concerned expression lift off of Rachel's face for a moment to smile at me, before it returned full force.

"How are you doing, Kori?" Rachel asked immediately as I sat down.

I shrugged, currently, my overwhelming emotion was embarrassment, "About as well as can be expected. It all still feels a little surreal."

"You're telling me," Gar said lazily, and then leaned forward, "Hey Kori, do you think the job comes with any perks? Say, like, getting the scoop on the latest season of—"

Rachel thwacked him, "Gar," she hissed as he rubbed his head and glared at her, "The news just broke today and you're already asking for ridiculous favors?"

He shrugged sheepishly, "I thought it might lighten the mood…"

I laughed, Gar's request did lighten my mood, "If I had any ins with TV producers, Gar, it would be my first order of business. But I don't think I have that kind of pull. I could probably get you an invite to the castle," I scrunched up my face, "If we have a castle…"

Gar gaped, "You don't even know."

"Sorry," I said apologetically, "My first princess lesson is today. I can inform you after that time what favors I will be able to best perform."

"Oh. Cool dude, just send me a text."

Rachel stared at the two of us with disbelief, "Tell me you're joking," she said flatly.

"Totally," Gar said, as I said, "Only partially."

Gar turned to me surprised, "Dude, I was totally kidding. I don't expect anything from you! Other than your friendship." he said loyally, turning to look at Rachel with a grin, proud of his clear ethical stance.

I shrugged again, "I only mean, so far this princess job has seemed to be nothing but trouble, if I find there are any perks, I will use them to benefit my friends. Because as far as I can see, those will be the only fun parts."

Rachel opens her mouth to respond, but we are all distracted by Richard entering the classroom. Richard is almost never late, and so all eyes are drawn to him as he came in,

looking rather deliciously rumpled, and handed our assigned teacher a pink slip which can only mean he has a valid excuse for being late.

He ran a hand through his windswept hair (and unlike Rachel's previous windswept hair, his actually does make him look like a model) and shot us a sheepish smile as he took his seat, "Sorry for being late guys, I had this other thing I had to do… what's new with any of you?"

We all turned to gape at him for several moments. Finally, I was able to choke out, "You mean you don't know?"

His brow furrowed, "Know what?"

"Didn't you see the hordes of reporters outside, dude?" Gar asked.

"No…" Richard said, looking at him like he's crazy, "I mean, no more than usual…" as we all continued to regard him with expressions of shock and disbelief he looked around at us, bewildered, "Did I miss something?"

When none of us can answer him, because of the shock, he shook his head in dismay, and he turned to me, "Kori… how are you? Did everything go okay last night? Because I didn't hear from you and…"

"What? I…" I simply could not find the words. How did he not know?

Rachel, who can always find the words, stepped in, "You mean," she said carefully, "You have not heard anything about Kori in conjunction with the news?"

"No…" Richard said, and then looked around at us again quizzically, "Is it good news or bad news?"

"The jury's still out," Rachel commented dryly at the same time I said, "Bad," and Garfield said, "Good."

Richard only looked more confused, "Okay… will someone please tell me what's going on?" he demanded a little more loudly.

Which is when Jennifer, who sits and the table next to ours, and who is quite nice to talk to despite what her penchant for dark clothing and brightly colored hair might cause one to first assume, snorted, and said, "You mean you haven't heard about how Kori is the princess of some small European country? Do you live under a rock?"

Rachel glared at her (Rachel is head of the literary magazine, and Jennifer is head of the school newspaper, and so they seem to feel it is their responsibility to butt heads as often as possible, even though, down deep, we all know they have nothing but a mutual respect of one another. Probably), "Oh, classy Jen," she drawled.

"I wasn't going to wait an hour for you all to stumble it out," Jennifer fired back, "Besides, doesn't he check Facebook? Or the Internet? Or talk to people? I mean, come on, it's even on TMZ."

"I'm on TMZ…" I said dazedly.

Jen shot me a reassuring grin, "They used a really nice picture, Kori. Everyone's calling you the next Kate Middleton, but sexier."

I started choking, and Rachel looked amused at this news.

"Well all right, Kori!" Gar exclaimed, "Hey, maybe now you really will get to rub elbows with some TV producers."

"Wait, wait, wait," Richard said, holding up his hands, and shaking his head in disbelief, "Kori you're a princess?"

"Of Tameran," I confirmed with a nod. And then added, "Apparently. That's what the meeting was about yesterday—it's why Galfore did not ask you to stay."

Richard just continued to shake his head, "You're a princess?" he repeated incredulously.

"I am only second in line," I said, blushing.

He looked around wildly at all of us, "Is this some sort of a joke?"

Jennifer rolled her eyes again, "Yeah, we all decided, ha ha, you know what, Richard's late today, you know what would be really fun? If we told him Kori was a princess! And then got TMZ to run the story. And got a bunch of reporters to wait outside the school. Just for a little light laughter during the humdrums of school, keep things interesting you know?" she rolled her eyes once more, "My god, you can just confirm it with a quick google."

"It's true," I admitted as we all ignored Jennifer's commentary.

Richard looked stunned, "What does that mean?"

I shot him a questioning look, "I do not understand."

"Are you leaving?" he said suddenly.

"Leaving?" I asked.

"For Tameran," he said more slowly, "The country you're royalty in?"

This took me aback, as the thought had not even crossed my mind, "No one has mentioned anything to that effect…" I said deliberately, "I suppose eventually, I am supposed to go… to Tameran. But not until I graduate high school, I believe… it… will depend on a series of factors." Like if Koma ever decided to return to the throne.

Richard just leaned back in his chair, still shaking his head, "A princess," he muttered to himself.

The rest of the school day passed without much in the way of adventure.

A lot of people asked me for favors, like Gar, but joking less. I got a lot of stares.

And Principal Light was true to his promise: he was able to keep out all reporters for the rest of the school day, like he said he would.

It was after the school day that became a problem.

I was heading to the art supply closet to gather a few supplies to work on my latest painting, when I heard footsteps.

I immediately panicked—perhaps panic is too strong of a word, but I found myself filled with an overwhelming feeling of worry. It was clear that as the school day ended, reporters would not be able to be kept totally at bay, and now, every time I hear footsteps, my fight or flight reflex is triggered. I have been doing studio art after school since I started in ninth grade, and this part of the building is always deserted, so even the smallest sound is cause for worry of an intruder. But before I could decide whether to fight or flight, I see it only Richard, and I was filled with both relief and excitement.

"Richard!" I called out, feeling pleasantly surprised, "What are you doing here?"

He smiled, and stopped several feet away from me, "I'm here to talk to you, of course."

"Talk to me?" I questioned, "About what?"

He sighed deeply, "I kind of feel some responsibility, Kori, if I had known when I left you yesterday…"

"You would have stopped Madam De Mille from telling me anything?" I asked, an eyebrow quirked.

"No," he shifted from foot to foot, the very picture of apprehension, "I don't know… I would have stayed to make sure you were okay. And… took you out for ice cream or something…"

I couldn't help but let out an honest laugh at that, "Ice cream?"

"Or something," he defended.

I smiled fondly, "That would have been nice." And it would have.

"Kori…" he said again, reaching out to put a comforting hand out for my shoulder, "Really… are you okay?"

And he just looked so nice and so concerned, and his hand was on my shoulder, I opened my mouth, willing to just tell him absolutely everything… but then I heard it: footsteps. And not just of one pair of feet, but of about four, and some whispered conversation where I am almost positive I heard the word 'princess'.

Either Richard read the panic in my face, or he heard the footsteps too, because his eyes opened very wildly and he turned to look at me, "What do we do?" he asked in quiet tones.

I took a quick survey around, because I was not going to stand there as if I was some sort of sitting duck.

It was then I saw it: just three steps to our right was a door belonging to the art supply closet. It wasn't exactly the ideal hiding spot, as most of the door was that sort of faded glass where you can't see into the room (but prying eyes could most certainly make out shadowy figures—something I didn't want prying eyes to see). Art supply closets never constitute an perfect hiding spot, but at this moment all I needed was something unlocked. And something that would provide at least a miniscule amount of coverage.

In retrospect, I should have been more picky.

I brought my finger to my lips because the footsteps were getting louder, and the last thing I needed was someone being clued into our location because of us talking. So instead of using my words, which in reconsideration, I really should have, I gave him a pleading look to go along with me, and I grabbed his shirt by the collar and dragged him over to the door.

Richard, thankfully, did not say anything. He just allowed me to drag him to this closet, as I pulled us both through the door and shut the door behind us, making sure we were both out of any potential line of sight.

But because this was an art supply closet and not a classroom… that was… a little more… I don't know if difficult is the right word, but it's the word I will use… to hide effectively out of any potential line of sight. If this had been a classroom, there would have been plenty of space for both of us to keep hidden.

But it was not a classroom.

It was a closet—and a small art supply closet at that.

Which meant that Richard and I had just come in very close quarters with one another.

To tell you how out of sorts I was, I didn't even notice, so busy was I listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. I didn't notice that Richard was pushed (by me no less!) up against the shelves on the wall holding various painting surprises, or that in my efforts to stay hidden from the translucent panel I was… well, I was pushed up against Richard. Something I assure you, under normal circumstances would not have escaped my notice for even a moment. (I will confess, that even as I was listening for the footsteps, I did register how nice he smelled, and how warm he felt—but that was as far as I got. At the time). I didn't even realize that as I was listening for the sound of nosy reporters that my hands were still clenched among his collar.

It wasn't until a few minutes after I heard the footsteps pass us that I even let out a breath.

I turned to face Richard, to apologize for my most abrupt and rude pulling him into this small closet with me, when I became intimately aware of… well, how intimately close we were.

And, well, I became intimately aware of something else too.

It's so embarrassing to recount now but… well, when I turned to apologize to him, I expected to find him laughing, or angry, or upset. What I did not expect was for him to be staring at me so intently… and it all sounds so silly now, but something about his stare… it sent shivers up my spine. There was an intensity to it that…

Well, it's why I did what I did next.

Or perhaps the last art student had left some lead paint uncovered and its fumes somehow managed to cause me serious brain damage…

Or maybe it was just that after this crazy day, I was feeling crazier than ever…

But really, I know it was the stare. I saw something in the way he looked at me… I just… well, I felt like his emotions were right there on the surface, so clear, so obvious, and I felt like…

I felt like he really saw me.

I guess I have always been a person who acts in the moment, based on the emotions I'm feeling in that moment. It's just the way in which I'm hardwired. Maybe that explains why I did what I did.

But really? I know there's really no good explanation for why I did it.

I just leaned up and I kissed him.

I know! I can't believe it either!

Not only is he Rachel's brother, but he's Richard! How could he possibly be interested in me? Especially now that I was some weird princess! And I was defunct in all matters of English!

Here he and come to apologize for leaving yesterday and see if I was okay… and I just… I kissed him!

It only lasted a few seconds before I came to my senses and backed away with a small eep.

But those few seconds… I don't think I ever felt anything so glorious.

Well, except for one thing.

Like I said, we had barely been in contact for all of three seconds when I broke contact and took several steps away from him, bringing my hands up to my mouth in shock, "Oh god," I said, "I'm so sorry—I just—I don't know—"

I started to babble out explanations and excuses for my actions, keeping my hands in front of my traitorous lips to make sure they did not act on their own violation again, and I'm sure I had turned about five hundred different shades of red… and I expected Richard to yell at me, or to leave or to… to do anything but what he did.

I had barely gotten through any of my babbled apology when Richard's expression took on a steely look. He didn't say anything, but he took a step forward to me, and then he reached out both his hands so that each hand had a hold of my forearm. Slowly and with care, he began to move my forearms until they were no longer covering my face. He searched my gaze, and I don't know what he saw there, but he must have seen something because the next thing I knew he had pulled my forearms so that I came stumbling forward until I was resting against him. I turned my face up to give him a quizzical look, and found only determination in his eyes. There was a beat that passed between us and then he leaned his mouth down until it covered mine.

My knees would have buckled if he hadn't been holding me up.

That was the most glorious thing I had ever experienced in my life.

Richard kissed with his entire being, and it was everything I had ever dared to imagine and more.

His one hand moved to the small of my back, pressing me closer, and his other hand to my hair, which left both of my hands free to snake around his neck and twine into his hair.

I have no idea how long we stayed there, a total cliché—making out in a closet on school grounds, but at the time I couldn't be bothered to think about clichés, or what a truly compromising position we would face if a reporter happened to catch us now, or even anything at all. All I could think about what the feeling of Richard's hair beneath my hands, of how his hands felt so delightfully warm on my skin, and the wonderful feeling of his lips against mine.

I never wanted to move again. I never wanted to do anything again, but just kiss Richard for eternity. I just wanted to stay in this art supply closet with Richard forever, and forget about everything. Most particularly the princess stuff.

I'm slightly ashamed to admit it, but I think it would have continued on for even longer, if Richard hadn't started to walk me back until my back was pressed against the shelves (which was not the most comfortable position in the world—but I wasn't thinking of even comfort then, at the time I could only heartily approve of things to lean against to give better… er, angles for other pursuits), and even then I think I would have been content to let him go on kissing me forever (and me him) if we didn't somehow manage to knock down about three types of painting supplies and about a gallon of glitter.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They went in quick succession.

I'm still not sure who's wayward arms were responsible for it.

Richard pulled back to lean his forehead against my shoulder and laugh, and I was so shocked I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

But as soon as his lips were no longer attached to mine, and moving in wonderfully sinful ways, it was like a magic spell was lifted.

Because suddenly reality came rushing back.

I had to get to Princess Lessons. And what if the falling clatter of those art supplies attracted the attention of some horribly persistent reporter? I had barely been a princess of Tameran for twelve hours, and already I was going to be caught in some scandal that would have them comparing me to Lindsay Lohan (although I hear she is doing much better now—best hopes to you, Lindsay).

And of course, the biggest reality check of all: I had just made out with Richard, Rachel's brother, and a guy who couldn't be feasibly interested in me in a million years.

What had I done?

I had just mauled Richard in a closet and now things would never be the same and I wouldn't be able to go over Rachel's house anymore because I might see him and I could never see him again because I had just humiliated myself beyond all belief! Because I propositioned him in an art supply closet!

And I think I even groped him!

I pulled back immediately in shock and realization.

Richard's eyes clouded over, "Kori…" he started to say.

I shook my head vehemently, "No, no, please don't say it," I said trying desperately to get my bearings and ducking under his arm to make my way past him, "I… I don't know what came over me… and I'm… oh Richard, I'm sorry—"

Richard frowned at that, "Kori—" he started again.

But my hand was already on the doorknob and I was still shaking my head, "I've… I've got to go, the reporter could come back… and I have to go to Princess Lessons… and… I… I've just got to go," I say, making the graceful exit only a princess could.

Perhaps Madam De Mille was right—I guess I have a lot to learn about this princess stuff.

So that's the most recent chapter. Hope you enjoyed, let me know your thoughts!