Page 110 of The Dandelion Princess
Bribery
ELLA
Things have never been better.
In the following days, the palace is busier than ever. The machinery of monarchy pivots deftly around Freja and her delicate condition, but, for the first time, I am absolutely certain that they would pivot just as carefully around me.
When Fairy Godmothers, my patronage dedicated to fulfilling the wishes of critically ill children, asks me for an urgent favor, I attack the assignment with the dedication and intensity of one of mySquadRunraids. Once upon a time, I would have argued that I could show up for “tea with a princess” in trainers, sweat-wicking fabrics, and a pair of stretch trousers. I would have settled for a shirtwaist dress and a pair of flats. Now, I reserve the Chevres Salon, arrive in a quinceanera-sized ballgown with two extra crinolines, every medal and badge pinned to my sash, and balance Alma’s murderously heavy Lowenwald diamond kokoshnik on the best tiara hair this family has ever seen.
If any palace brickwork needs repairing, my make-up could be scraped off with a trowel and applied in place of mortar, but I pass out plastic scepters and tiaras, drink tea with my pinky sticking straight out, and show everyone the proper way to curtsey. The press eat it up, giving the rest of my family a breather for the day.
This is the life I choose now, and I’m very nearly perfectly happy about it. Anyway, I’ve stopped living with one foot out the door.
Alix invites me out for a pre-bachelorette party hen night. “Just us,” she says. “We’ll do karaoke.”
I could use an outlet. I underestimated how effective Marc’s kisses were at taking me out of my head, and I feel his absence in ways too numerous to tally. In lieu of being seen and understood by the man I’ve been in love with for ten years, an off-key rendition of BLUSH’s “Possessed By a Maiden Ghost” will have to suffice.
Nordic people prefer to escape the bleak contemplations of death by going to the sauna, withstanding the rigors of brimstone preemptively, so karaoke bars are a novelty. Alix books us a private room at the only good club in Handsel. I flip through the music offerings until she clears her throat.
“Here’s the thing,” she says. “We’re not here for karaoke.” Alix takes out a tablet and taps a few keys, connecting her device to the massive screen on one wall.
“What’s this?” I ask, though it’s obviously an empty video conference. Her username, LoveShush, displays in the corner, and she fiddles with the camera until we are properly centered. Soon, other members pop in. Staggering_Indifference patches in from Washington D.C. Her name is Jess, and she’s a graduate student who doesn’t mind gaming in the middle of the night. Dragonslayer2 I recognize as Linus. His room is a jumble of art supplies and large, half-finished pieces. Theoutrageous mannerisms from the interview have vanished. BeastlyDutchOaths is Willem, a secondary school teacher in the Netherlands. These are my oldest gaming friends, with me from the beginning.
“Hi guys,” I wave. “I’m Ella, I’m a princess in Sondmark.”
“No kidding,” Jess says. “Your voice has been in our headsets for years and you know a freakish amount about constitutional monarchies. Some of us already figured it out.”
“I didn’t,” Linus breaks in.
“How are you all here?” I ask, my heart tightening. I’ve been through the hardest breakup of my life, and I haven’t been able to take solace in destroying a medieval warlord with the best squaddies a girl could have. It hurts from morning to night, and I’ve been holding on to sanity with sheer grit and the threat of disappointing of my ancestors.
“Alix got us together,” Willem says. “She rounded us up on another Friction server and sent out a message to scrub your history. You needed help and we came.”
My smile is wobbly, but it’s the first real one I’ve produced in what feels like forever. “Saving the princess?”
He shakes his head, the connection glitching and smoothing. “Helping a friend. Linus did more than anyone.”
“Who knew assuming your identity would be so lucrative?” Linus laughs. “I’ve sold three art pieces, and I’m in talks to do more.”
“Don’t give him too much credit,” Alix cuts in. “His sister made it worth his while.”
“Caroline?”
Linus shifts in his computer chair. “Your mom told Caro that you were behind the gamer tag, and she recognized it from my computer. Later, my sister approached me… Approached,” he grunts. “She pinned me down.”
My mother’s secretary? The one who never steps a toe out of place? I remember the interview on national tv, the crash after it looked like Linus was about to launch an anti-monarchy rant... Was Caroline swinging a rolling pin?
“I would have done it for nothing, but I negotiated up to a year of her cleaning Boris’s turtle enclosure and keeping her hands off my controllers.”
We laugh, we trade stories, and we almost convince Jess to ditch her loser boyfriend. When Alix drives me back to the palace at the end of the long night, she asks if I’m dating anyone.
“My social calendar is as empty as the Felslot plains,” I say. “No one is interested in,” I clear my throat, tight with emotion, “capturing the castle.”
“Keep it like that, will you?” Her gaze is sharp, but I can’t meet it. “I might have someone…”
“Sure,” I murmur. Another finance bro. Maybe Tom has a cousin. My future has to start sometime.
I throw Alix a proper bachelorette party on a riverboat, complete with an elaborate drone show of exploding hearts, revolving hearts, and arrow-pierced hearts overhead. Half the population of Handsel turns out to watch, and there is talk in government circles of making this an annual event. We are wearing sequined rompers, but Mama commends me for threading the needle between innocent, girlish fun and excessive displays of wealth.
