The Swan's Wish

Tea

"​There you are, Odette." Thomas' legs quickened their pace. "You've been summoned," he started, pulling a phone from the breast pocket of his blazer. "There will be tea and luncheon at 1 o'clock with your mother and an esteemed guest." He paused as my gait faltered to a stop in the hallway.

"​How can she 'summon' me in the middle of a class period?" My eyes rounded with vexation. "Does she understand how attendance works?"

"​I've already made my rounds to the office. They were about as happy as can be expected." He sighed, checking the watch on his wrist. "You have about an hour before we are scheduled to leave. Will you need time to freshen up?"

"​No," I seethed. "If she wants me, this is how she'll receive me." Marching to my next classroom, I slammed my books upon the desk. The nerve of that woman.

"​Geeze," Oliva murmured. "What's made you so hyper?" Her thick red hair hung in ringlets framing her round cheeks. Disdain dripped--as it naturally did--from her pores.

"​My silly mother," I breathed. My entitled, interfering, obnoxious mother.

"​At least yours pays attention to you," she nipped. "Must be nice." A raw carrot came from her bag. Crunching it between her teeth, her dead eyes gave me a look. "You could just ignore her," she said with a lifted brow.

"​Like you ignore yours?" I shot back. "Thanks, but Charlotte would never stand for it. I'd be whisked away before you could say Bob's Your Uncle."

​Madeleine breezed past us, her graceful gazelle-like legs ascending upon a seat next to mine. "Such vulgar language." She criticized. "Very unbecoming for a princess," she teased.

"​Princess-schminsess." My cluttered bag failed to yield my favorite pen. "I wish so badly sometimes to just be a 'normal' person."

"​Normal people can't attend school here," Oliva chirped. "You'd be out on your butt."

"​She could win a scholarship," Madeleine half whispered, her eyes taking a forlorn look. "There are several scholarship students here."

"​Like the boy we all know you're sneaking around with?" I prodded. "What's his name... Robbie?"

"​How clandestine. Is he very rustic?" Oliva asked, her eyes showing a sliver of interest. There were only ever two things to make Oliva come alive: Gossip, or death.

"​Shut up, both of you!" Madeleine lowly shrieked. "If my parents were to ever find out, I'd be back in France so fast..." She shuddered. The thought of her bloodline obsessed parents were enough to send shivers down my spine. They did little but talk about the purity of the blood running through them and their offspring. Much like breeders, they'd sell Madeleine off to the highest purebred player, and in their sick heads, they would have done their parental duty right by her.

"​He is rustic," I added, coming back to the present. "Black hair, dark eyes, ruddy cheeks. Very novelesque. Two star-crossed lovers just awaiting the time when peasants and royalty can mix." I batted my eyelashes in Madeleine's direction. "The stuff fantasies are made of."

"​At least I might get a choice one day!" Madeleine huffed. "Unlike you, whose life is already decided."

O​liva blew a breath. "Low blow, Mad."

S​hrinking into my seat, I fumed. I knew what she was saying was purely to get under my skin, but I hated that it did. Like a caged bird, all I wanted was a taste of freedom that no one could take away. Every small chance I had, the taste had been bitter-ed.

L​ike today.

*​***********************

D​erek

G​ulping around the knot in my throat, I stood waiting for Princess Charlotte to arrive and invite me into her sitting parlor. Always anxious in Buckingham, I stood with perfect posture, noting how stiff my muscles were. Failing to hide a grimace, my man approached. "Your Highness?" He questioned with a quizzical brow.

"​It's nothing, Oscar." I managed a smile. "Just a little stiffness in my back." The man backed away slowly, but his pensive eyes never left my body. Rotating my shoulders, I hoped the Princess would come soon.

A​nd Odette. She was supposed to be here.

O​dettte.

T​he thorn in my flesh, and the pain in my side. Was it ten years since we'd been betrothed? No. Fifteen? Birth? I couldn't keep count. All I had remembered was that she was the goosly-awkward preteen that'd smacked me in the face with a handful of baking soda.

S​he was also responsible for wrecking my motorbike when I was about thirteen. Oh, and she nearly killed me when she claimed to have German Measles, and tried to sneak away from a party with me still in the car! I hoped to God that she'd learned how to drive. She'd backed into the curb, completely bent the front wheel, and scraped the paint down the driver's side of the car. How she didn't see me in the backseat! I'll never know.

The bottom line was that Odette had never been anything but an annoying little sister. That's the only way I'd ever seen her. How could I not? She was there at the most inconvenient times, did the most inconvenient things, and then expected everyone else to bow and scrape to clean up the messes she caused. She was a walking disaster!

M​y hand came to the back of my neck, rubbing the impish pain away. Yes, Odette. My parents had saddled me with a wild one, that was for sure. But...s​eeing her the previous day though, had done something to me. I couldn't quite place the feeling. It was almost like... desire?

G​uffawing, I hated myself for the ludicrousness of the thought. There was NO WAY I could react to her like that. If anything, I was intent on unnerving her, making her as keenly uncomfortable as possible. Annoy her, much like she'd done me over the years.

B​ut the way she had stood there in that awful pink tulle dress... My mind wandered. Her face had been captured perfectly by the bright lights of the room. Her sharp cheekbones gave her away as royalty. Her body had matured from the last time I'd seen her. No longer was the gangly youth of time past, but instead a young woman with soft curves and toned muscle everywhere my eye happened a glance. Her blue eyes were deep and as piercing as they'd ever been, flashing passionately and staring right through your soul. Her blond hair had a slight wave to it, with just the one strand loosely falling along that high cheekbone. How I had desperately wanted to smooth it away from her features... and feel the softness of her skin under my hand.

Gah, no. Heaving a deep sigh, I moved from the center of the room to the window, hoping for any kind of distraction. Any two-legged distraction. We were near the center of the house, so all I could see was the courtyard, abuzz with the ant-like staff of this massive ground. There were men walking to and fro, busy with their tasks. Women in their black pantsuits and on cell phones. It was much like Amalieborg Palace, my home, with the museum and the guard... it gave you the constant feeling of living under a microscope.

These moments to think without interruption were few and far between these days. I'd read of men being caught in a reverie in literature, but had the thought one day that I'd never been still enough to have a daydream as that. There was always the constant pull for my time and attention no matter where I happened to be. Interviews here, meetings there, council meetings, board meetings, state meetings... I attended them all dutifully as I should. It had occurred to me, however, that I was a product of my country, and not a product of my own thought and being, and that had disturbed me. Who would I be if I were ever left alone to think?

The heavy ornately carved doors behind me opened, the hinges groaning under the massive weight. "Derek," came the sing-song voice from across the way. "Oh, darling boy, how wonderful it is to see you." The nurturing princess came forward, raising onto her tip toes to clasp her hands to my shoulders. "Last night wasn't nearly enough of a catch-up. Come with me, here, and have some tea." She sashayed to the sitting area of her private entertaining quarters, her chin up invitingly as she motioned as to where I should sit. "Now, tell me," she began, looking for the tea service. "What's this business I hear?" Her delicate hand rang the small bell that sat upon the glass top table beside her chair. A maid quietly slipped from the side of the room, exiting through the large door that the Princess had just entered through.

"​Well," I shifted nervously in my seat. Of all days for my man to lay out a buttoned shirt. What was wrong with a good polo every once in a while? The stiff white neck tugged at my Adam's apple, making it hard to swallow. I wasn't sure how I was going to tell her. Did I just come out and say it? I couldn't bring myself to hold her gaze. A small panic rose in my throat, similar to the feeling of claustrophobia. This was the moment I'd been dreading. The whole reason that I had accepted the invitation for this visit. The whole reason I had been FORCED to accept the invitation for this visit.

How did you tell the Crowned Princess that you were hoping to dissolve the engagement arrangements between yourself and their daughter? There would be no easy way out. It wouldn't harm either country, but the agreement and strength that was to come from such a political alliance was sure to be seen as detrimental. I would no doubt be labeled as cowardly, dastardly, or conniving by their media, and painted a royal playboy that broke Odette's heart. I had spoken to my parents, to my trusted advisors, and they knew that my heart was longing for something mor than this betrothal. What I had tasted as a teenager with my first love was enough to make me want to pursue that in light of a lifetime commitment to someone. Hoping to rip it off like a bandaid, I began, "I am asking for--"

"​Her Royal Highness, Princess Odette," came the loud announcement from the other end of the room. The doors that had signaled my entrapment just moments before brought a fresh bout of oxygen as the ornate blue and gold swung open to reveal the most breathtakingly beautiful girl I had ever seen.

O​H, why did she have to have this effect on me? I was bound to be disturbed by her in one way or another. But it wasn't supposed to be like this! I​ couldn't drag my eyes away, much like it had been the night before. She was captivating. A true, rare beauty. Her once slicked bun was askew from her dance classes. Her gray sweater casually sloped off of one shoulder, baring her bronzed skin for my viewing pleasure. Her black dance tights and skirt displayed her lean legs... The more I looked, the lighter I felt. l*****g my lips, I barely managed to rip my attention back to our hostess. I didn't want to look back at Charlotte. I wanted to drink in every ounce of...my future wife.

"​Derek," Odette said coolly, flopping onto the embroidered cushions of the settee. "Mother," she said, a fake smile plastered on her mouth. "You've summoned me?" Sarcasm dripped from the words. I studied her features as she studied her mother. Those flashing eyes projected every feeling she felt, and it was magnificent to watch. I could feel a tiny smile trying to tug the corner of my mouth, but nervously, I lifted a hand to wipe it away. She unnerved me, and there wasn't a clear reason as to why past her astounding beauty.

C​harlotte cleared her throat, barely audible to the delicate ear. "Yes," she replied, her hand smoothing the seam of her pink pant skirt. "I thought we could take the opportunity of Derek being in town to catch up with him." Her eyes were sending messages that my brain could half decipher. If it had been my mother, they would have gone something like, "Sit up straight! Mind your manners! Look interested and pay attention!"

A​nd just like that, Odette straightened rather rebelliously on the couch; her expression changing in a few coy seconds. "Yes, my darling Derek," she cooed facetiously. "Do tell what's been happening on the upper peninsula?" Her hands were always busy, I noticed. Just then, she had reached up to tuck another loose ringlet behind her ear. What game was she trying to play, though?

The maid from before reappeared, a large tea tray in her hands. Setting it down on the small glass table before us, the Princess immediately began serving. "How do you take your tea, dear?" She directed towards me.

"Two sugars, no cream, thank you." I answered.

"Naturally," Odette muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

A​mused, I mustered up a small remark to redirect our conversation. "Our growing utopia is well, but nothing to compare to Britain's might." Diplomatic. Vague. Complimentary: All of the boxes you need to check when talking to foreign dignitaries.

"​Come now," Odette prodded. "We read the papers. We see the news. We could have told you that." How is ol' Margaret?" A smirk was on her lips. Charlotte gasped, her tea cup clattering on her plate as she whipped to stare Odette down.

She was baiting me.

"​My friend..." I emphasized, not sure why she was bringing her up right now, "...is fine."

T​aking a small sip from her tea cup, Odette leaned back into the arm of the settee. "That's not what I heard."

"​Odette!" Her mother exclaimed. "Honestly. Excuse her, Derek. Someone has lost their sense of propriety!"

"​Margaret--" I interjected, starting to feel the pricking of sweat against my hairline. "Is back in Germany, serving her crown and country as she should be."

Odette snorted into her tea. "I bet that was an interesting chain of events."

"​Odette! Honestly!" Her exasperated mother shot daggers from her eyes, her body tense as she sat in perfect erection her seat.

S​linking back with a satisfied look across her features, Odette casually crossed her legs, relaxing. I could tell she had thought she'd won this conversation. She had not.

"​Margaret never falters when it comes to social grace and accomplishment." I gently interceeded. "She is the picture of grace and poise. I am honored to call her friend." I couldn't quite tell what emotion splattered across Odette's red face, but it closely resembled jealousy if I read her right.

A​t least, I hoped that's what it was. Why would she be jealous of Margaret? There was no reason... unless she had seen those tabloids claiming that Margaret and I had secretly eloped or some nonsense. But they knew like I did that magazines would literally write lies to sell copies. Surely they didn't think that!

"​In fact, you all may have seen her newly established charity," I continued, hoping to nail this coffin shut. "It supports the deaf communities across Europe. We're all hopelessly proud of her and all her accomplishments." It was true. She had exceeded all the expectations of her youth. She'd been the "wild and wacky party princess" that wore cheetah print and sunglasses while racing convertibles through the countryside when I'd first met her. She was every teenage boy's dream. But, when her grandmother passed, something in her snapped. She found purpose.

I had needed purpose, and she didn't need me.

Thoughts of her still panged deep in my stomach from time to time. She had been a first love after all; and a quick love. Something beautiful and wild that had bloomed one summer and had faded with the fall. She would always hold a dear place in my heart, that I knew, but it wasn't what it once was. We were comfortable old friends now, cheering each other from the sidelines. She knew I had a duty, as did I, and that had been that. I was all of 17, she was 16, and though love often produces folly, she proved wise beyond her years, stopping what could have been the most damaging experience in my life.

I​nstead, she had ripped my heart open. Then placed balm on the open wounds to help it heal. I would be forever thankful for her. Two years had passed since then, and I could say now that there was very little romantic love left in my heart.

E​specially when faced with the new conquest sitting in front of me.

Y​es, I decided then.

With a slight smile on my lips, I​ was quite determined to make Odette Alexandria Charlotte Maria Bernadotte Cromwell fall in love with me.