Page 269 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 29

ME

Those are the two colossal gilded letters carved into the daunting gate outside The King’s palace. Can you imagine—ME!—how much more egocentric can you get? Well, I suppose if it were my palace, I wouldn’t exactly inscribe “YOU” on the front gates. My house is your house. Now, there’s a concept.

“Papa! We’re here!” squeals Calla with excitement.

“Jane, calm her down,” snaps Marcella as she fiddles with her emerald earrings.

She never even thanked me for finding the missing one. The ungrateful skank! I hope Calla chews her ear off. It would serve her right. She went off the deep end when Gallant asked me to come along—especially since it was going to be her first time meeting his parents, recently back from their six month diplomatic trip abroad. Finally, she backed off when he told her it was more of a babysitting gig. I could occupy Calla while they enjoyed an “adult evening” with The King and The Queen.

The paved road leading into the King’s palace goes on for miles. Seated opposite Gallant, I stare at his handsome face. He looks tense. Almost withdrawn. He catches my eyes on him, and suddenly I feel embarrassed, like I’ve been trespassing on his private space. I quickly turn my head and peer out the window.

The palace comes into view and gets my mind off Gallant. It is a castle of monumental proportions—much grander than mine—with countless towers, turrets, and spires. Lit by the full golden moon, it resembles a gigantic, gilded jewel box.

A drawbridge leads to a stone gatehouse, where two armed guards greet us. They’re delighted to see The Prince and Calla. I get the feeling they are like family though they’re only hired help. Our carriage lets us off in front of the palace, where we’re met by a fleet of welcoming valets.

Inside, the palace is equally grand. It’s filled with fresco-painted walls, richly embroidered draperies, and sumptuously upholstered furnishings. Gilded touches are everywhere, including a massive candle-lit chandelier that hangs from the high vaulted ceiling. I bet it’s made of real gold.

An elderly, barrel-sized man, holding a golden staff, descends an elaborately carved gilded staircase. He is, undoubtedly, The King. He has the same sharp blue eyes as Gallant and, beneath his neatly trimmed beard, the same square jaw. And once upon a time, I bet he sported the same lean, athletic body.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” shouts Calla. Her face lights up as she runs over to him.

“Bambina!” beams The King, lifting her high in the air.

Bambina?How odd to hear that word again after so many years. Could he possibly be the man who gave me a gold coin on that fateful day? Even if he were, he’d never remember. I’ll never forget.

“Hello, father,” says The Prince, his voice cold and distant. He’s clearly on edge tonight. What’s eating him?

“Son, introduce your guests to me says,” says The King.

Marcella tugs at her clingy green gown, then puffs her chest. “My love, what are you waiting for?” She elbows Gallant, jolting him out of his other worldliness.

The PIW cringes when he turns to me. “Jane, this is my father, King Midas.”

King Midas!? The Prince’s father is King Midas!?The ruler of the Midas Empire. The me behind the ME. The man with the golden touch, who owns just about everything in Lalaland, including my castle! My house is your house, I scream silently.

Every muscle in my body clenches as my mind transforms into a raging inferno with Midas trapped inside. I force myself to curtsey as I mentally char the bastard to a crisp. Nice to meet you, Mide-ass! Now, give me back my castle!

“I’ve heard so much about you,” says The King.

You won’t live long enough to find out more. I exert so much control to keep my mouth clamped—and my hands to myself—my neck may snap.

Marcella shoots The Prince a dirty look. “What about me?”

Hastily, Gallant introduces Marcella to his father, not mentioning she’s his fiancée.

“Enchantée, Your Majesty.” The PIW’s cannonballs shoot out of her deeply décolleté gown as she curtsies.

“The Prince didn’t tell me that you’re so svelte,” she says in the most sickening kiss-up voice I’ve ever heard.

“Oh, Marcella,” chuckles the hefty King, his eyes glued to her chest. “You know exactly what to say to make my day.”

And what to do.She loads her ammunition back into her gown.

A horrifying thought flies into my head. Holy crap! This slut will one day own my castle if I don’t get it back. Burning bile rushes to the back of my throat.

While Gallant remains silent and detached from the conversation, Calla jumps right into it, unaware of the turbulent emotions raging inside me. “Grandpa, Jane’s made a yummy pie with apples we picked at that spooky castle.”

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