My heart turns over when she mentions the small neighborhood in Vasgaard where I grew up. A few months ago, she might’ve been my neighbor. A few years ago, she might’ve beenme.
“Are you really a princess?” A slight speech impediment softens her consonants, turning herr’s intow’s. Pwincess.
I nod. “I am.”
“Do you live in a castle?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Like in a faiwy tale!”
“Oh, yes. It’s just like a fairy tale,” I lie.
“When I gwow up, I’m going to be a pwincess like you!” Annie declares proudly. “Wight, Mama?”
Her mother turns beet red. “I’m sorry, she doesn’t understand—”
I shake my head, smiling genuinely for the first time since my eyes cracked open. “You know what, Annie? I grew up in Hawthorne, too.”
Her brows shoot upward. “Weally?”
“Really. And if I can be a princess, so can you.” Reaching up, I remove the small tiara from my head. It sparkles brilliantly in the daylight. Without a thought, I reach through the bars and set it atop Annie’s blonde hair.
I hear gasps from the surrounding onlookers — a wave of shock breaking like a great tidal shift. The little girl is staring at me with total adoration.
“There you go,” I murmur, adjusting the delicate headpiece with a wink. “Beautiful.”
Annie reaches up to touch the tiara, her lips spreading into a huge smile. She’s missing a front tooth. “Do I wook wike a pwincess now?”
“Totally.”
She beams bigger.
“Can I tell you a secret, Annie?”
“Uh huh!”
I lean in so only she can hear my words. “There’s magic in that tiara. It makes whoever wears it brave enough to follow their dreams. So, whenever you feel scared or uncertain, I want you to put it on. And I want you to remember that you’re a brave girl, who can be whoever she wants to be when she grows up. Okay?” I pull back a bit to stare into her light brown eyes. “You can do anything you want, Annie. You just have to be brave. Understand?”
She’s wide-eyed with wonder. “Yes, Pwincess Emiwia.”
When I rise and meet her mother’s gaze, she looks almost fearful. “Your Highness — we can’t possibly accept—”
I wave her words away. “Of course you can. Besides, it looks better on her, anyway.”
Shooting one last smile at Annie, I turn and walk back to the middle of the street. Galizia’s eyebrows are up by her hairline. From my peripheral, I catch sight of Simms’ pinched expression. I’m sure he’ll ream me out later for giving away a priceless piece of jewelry, but I honestly don’t care.
It was worth it to make that little girl’s day a bit brighter. It was worth it to lend her a little bit of magic. And the Lancaster vault is stocked with enough jewels to last a lifetime.Severallifetimes. One little tiara won’t be missed.
The crowd is newly energized as I walk the remaining distance up the stairs to the podium. They scream so loud I worry I’ll end up with premature hearing loss, their individual calls blending into a crush of sound. Even after I shake hands with the Minister of Veteran Affairs and step up to the microphone, they continue to cheer until Simms gestures for silence. Glancing over at me, he gives a stern look that clearly conveys his orders.
Smile nicely. Say hello. Step away.
I try not to roll my eyes as I turn to the crowd and clear my throat. “Wow. Thank you all for the warm greeting!”
I jolt when I hear my own voice booming out from the speakers, echoing off buildings. It’s a strange, disembodied sensation. My gaze drifts across the many faces in the crowd — young, old, male, female. I see a group of grey-haired men in military uniforms who must be WWII soldiers clustered beside a group of schoolchildren on a field trip, their yellow primary school jumpers a visual assault even at this distance. I see a young couple holding hands beside an elderly pair pressed up against the railing.
So many different faces, all turned toward mine. All with one thing in common.