A Royal Orchestra

Chapter One

Chapter One: Eighteen with a Bang

Let’s talk about Xenovia. Yes, that’s the name of my country—currently. A very elegant, royal-sounding name, isn’t it? Like something you’d see written in gold letters on a map or hear in one of those historical dramas about kings and queens. But here’s the kicker: it didn’t always have such a fancy ring to it. Nope, once upon a time, it was called Xendoza.

Why the change? Well, according to the history books, it happened in the late 1800s, when someone in the royal family—probably the king—decided that Xendoza just wasn’t elegant enough for a place as regal as ours. But, if you ask me, I think they were trying to rebrand after some kind of royal scandal. You know how royals are: always sweeping their messes under the rug and distracting people with shiny new things—like a whole new country name. Anyway, voilà! Xendoza became Xenovia, and the rest is history.

But the name isn’t even the strangest thing about Xenovia. Oh no. That honor belongs to a certain tradition we have. A tradition so bizarre and dramatic, I’m convinced it inspired The Princess Diaries. You know, the whole “normal kid finds out they’re secretly royalty” plot? Yeah, that.

Here’s how it works: the firstborn child of the reigning monarch—the heir to the throne—is raised as a commoner. No crowns, no palaces, no royal tutors. They grow up thinking they’re just like everyone else, living in some average house with fake parents who are literally paid to pretend they gave birth to them. And then, on their eighteenth birthday, the big reveal happens.

Picture this: some high-ranking government official shows up, probably with a crown or a tiara in hand, and says, “Congratulations! You’re actually the future ruler of Xenovia. Pack your bags; we’re heading to the palace.” All this while the poor kid is still processing the fact that their “mom and dad” aren’t their real parents. Talk about an identity crisis.

Why do we do this? Supposedly, it’s to make sure our future rulers stay grounded and understand what it’s like to live as a “regular person.” But if you ask me, it’s just a way for the royal family to get some cheap entertainment at their kids’ expense.

So, why am I telling you all this? Because today is my eighteenth birthday.

Now, before you get any ideas, let me stop you right there. I’m not the secret princess. First of all, the current heir to the Xenovian throne is a prince, not a princess. And unless there’s been some massive mix-up, I’m pretty sure I haven’t been living a lie my whole life. Second, the crown prince has already been found. Yup, the big reveal happened last month.

The new heir to the throne? His name is Zachary.

Zack.

The same Zack who’s been my best friend since we were kids.

You might think this is where the story turns into some kind of fairytale, right? Wrong.

For starters, Zack is weird. Like, really weird. He’s the kind of guy who can solve a Rubik’s Cube in under a minute while reciting random facts about black holes. People at school called him “Ice Geek” because he’s so smart and so calm under pressure that he comes off as cold. But he’s not. He’s just… Zack. Quirky, brilliant, and completely oblivious to the fact that people find him intimidating.

So, you’re telling me this guy—the same one who used to build model rockets in his backyard and watch Harry Potter marathons with me—didn’t know he was royalty? Yeah, no. I don’t buy it. Zack is way too smart for that. If anyone could’ve pieced together the clues before the official announcement, it would’ve been him.

Which is why I’m furious with him.

Right now, I’m sitting on a commercial flight, crammed between a snoring businessman and a crying toddler, because I needed to get out of Xenovia. I needed to get away from Zack.

We had a fight. A big one. It started when I accused him of knowing all along. “There’s no way you didn’t figure it out,” I said. “You’re Zack. You probably noticed some tiny detail that no one else would’ve even thought about. So, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” he said, his voice annoyingly calm.

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” I shot back. “You’ve been acting so weird lately, Zack. Distant. Like you didn’t want me to know what was going on. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at me with those unreadable blue eyes of his, like he was trying to decide whether to explain himself or let me walk away.

Spoiler alert: I walked away.

And now, here I am, thousands of feet in the air, trying to process the fact that my best friend—possibly more than a best friend—has been lying to me this whole time.

Because, as it turns out, Zack isn’t just Zack.

He’s the crown prince of Xenovia.