Page 3 of A Fierce Princess

“Dad…” I trail off trying to think of a way to buy more time. I just need a little more time. And then I remember, one of Mom’s charities has its annual gala in six months. That’s enough time. I can do this by then. “How about I finish my classes, and then take some time to decompress? I will announce my role as the head of Mom’s charities at the gala in the fall.”

I hold my breath and watch my father process my idea. I try not to look desperate. I try to remain calm.

“I…suppose,” he says. “But what precisely will you be doing for five months?”

Shit, nothing gets past the king.

I try very hard not to shuffle my feet. “I’d like to travel a little,” I say because that is the truth. I will be needing to travel. “I think that it would be good for me to see a little more of the world. It will be helpful and insightful,” I add quickly.

He purses his lips as he considers this. “Very well. But you will run any travel plans by me first,” he commands.

“Of course,” I say.

“Very well. Will I see you at dinner?” he asks.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say as I turn to leave. I make it to the door before I hear his voice again.

“Susanna?” he says. I stop but don’t turn around.

“I am very proud of you, my love. You have done well at your studies,” he says, he pauses for a moment before adding, “Your mother would have been proud as well.”

I nod and leave his office, I sink against the wall just outside, using it to steady myself. “I hope she would be proud,” I whisper, unsure if that would be the case.

Chapter 2

Ifind myself in the vault as I meander the palace, contemplating my future. The vault is two stories below the ground. Two of our guards are stationed here twenty-four hours a day. The security to get inside requires a verbal passcode, face recognition, and a thumbprint. Once inside, the door slides shut behind me as the LED lights illuminate the room. Our family’s crowned jewels are displayed in sets behind bulletproof glass that only moves once I provide another set of verbal passcodes, facial recognition, and a thumbprint. So sensitive is the system, that I have to utter the passcode while completely relaxed; if the system senses a change in my voice indicating stress, it will not open.

I take in a breath and unlock the cabinet holding the remaining pieces of my mother’s favorite set. There is still a space for her crown. It sits empty, mocking me.

I’m startled when the door opens. A moment later, Auggie is beside me.

“Jesus, you scared me to death,” I say. And then realize how ridiculous that is. No one but our family and security could get in here.

He wraps an arm around my shoulder as we stand side by side, staring at the negative space that once housed our mother’s crown. Really, it’s more of a tiara, but nonetheless, it was her favorite one. She always wore it for special occasions, including the gala she had been attending the night of her car accident.

It’s still one of our country’s greatest mysteries. Some reported she hadn’t been wearing it when she got in the car to leave. Others claim she had it on at the accident scene. However, all that can be said for sure, is that it went missing that night and has never been located.

At first, her missing crown bothered me because I was almost seven and fixated on trivial things. But around the age of thirteen, I became completely obsessed with locating it. I don’t know why. I don’t know what finding it will possibly fix in my broken heart. I just know that I have to find it, and I won’t rest until I do.

And so, I used my love of computers as an excuse, a conduit of sorts, to look for the crown. A crown that is worth at least fifty million dollars on the black market. A crown that many wealthy criminals would kill to get into their collections. It’s akin to having Amelia Earhart’s plane in your living room.

“Stop thinking about it,” Auggie says, breaking my thoughts.

I shrug. “I’ll always think about it,” I admit.

“She’s gone. It’s gone. Move on,” he says.

I look up at my brother. Auggie has my father’s dark hair, as do I, but he also has my father’s dark eyes, where Chris and I have our mother’s piercing blue ones. The one thing I don’t have is height. My mother wasn’t tall, but she certainly wasn’t short. My father and brothers are all over six feet tall. But not me. I am barely five feet three inches on a good day. I look like a fairy that never grew up. I’m a stick, with small curves, small everything. The only good thing I’ve surmised from it so far is that I blend into crowds. I can throw on a hoodie and some leggings and sneak out of the palace. No one notices me. There are pluses to not being the heir or the spare.

“I can’t,” I finally reply.

“Try,” he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Finding it wouldn’t bring her back.”

“I know that,” I say.

“Then let it go,” he says. I know Auggie suspects that I’m looking for it, but I would never let on that his guess is correct.

“I have a little over five months,” I say to him.

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