1
JAI
“Nervous flyer, hon?”
“Huh?” I blink a couple of times at the elderly woman seated next to me, and it’s not until she cants her head toward my hands that I realize I’m tapping them against my knees in a jittery rhythm. I make myself pause the movement and clasp my hands together in my lap instead. “Not particularly,” I tell her. “I guess I’m just a little nervous about where I’m headed.”
“Oh? And where’s that?”
It’s not an unreasonable question. I booked this flight last minute, so the only one I could get was with a connection via London.
“Have you heard of Korova? It’s in Eastern Europe.”
Her mouth turns down into a thoughtful frown as she tries to place the name. “Is that in Ukraine? I’ve heard of Ukraine.”
I just barely manage not to roll my eyes. Everyone’s heard of Ukraine. “Um, no, it’s right next to it, though. It’s a tiny little country squeezed between Ukraine and Belarus.”
“And you’re worried the Russians are going to blow it up?”
I blink at her several times. “Um, no, not particularly. I’m starting a new job there.”
And it has to go well… This is pretty much my last opportunity to prove to my parents I haven’t just wasted the last six years—not to mention all the money they spent on tuition—pursuing a career path they deem to be completely useless and fanciful. It’s also the only chance I’m going to get to earn enough to pay for my PhD without resorting to the unappealing option of crippling student loans. Lord knows my folks aren’t going to spend another dime, even if they can more than easily afford it.
I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and dig it out to check the message.
Owen Kelly: Okay you were right. Blake and I worked things out
I smile at the message, glad to know my buddy’s finally come to his senses and that he’s allowing himself to be happy with the man he loves.
Me: Of course I was right. I’m brilliant
I quickly type out the reply and power down my phone, because I can see the flight attendant wandering up the aisle doing a final check before take off.
I’d assumed the conversation with the woman next to me had ended, but I probably should have known better. I’d put her at about seventy, and she reminds me a lot of Betty White in that movie with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. Fluffy blonde hair, a sparkling smile and a sweet, friendly voice that makes the idea of simply putting earphones in and ignoring her seem cruel.
“What’s the job?” she asks.
I have to think for a moment, before remembering I’d told her I’m going to Korova for a new job. “I’m going to be a tutor for a family there.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting.” She pats the arm of the woman who’s already asleep in the seat next to her. “My wife and I are off to England to see all the castles. I want to see where the queen lives, and where they filmed Downton Abbey. And Alma wants to visit all the famous battle sites.”
“Sounds like a great holiday,” I say with a smile.
Fortunately, Betty White’s doppelganger—whose name I learned later is Marty—didn’t keep me talking the entire flight to London, and I was able to get a couple hours’ sleep. Which turns out to be a good thing, because I had no such luck on either of my connecting flights, so by the time I land at Vlalens International Airport, Korova, I am utterly exhausted.
After clearing immigration and collecting my luggage, I head through the door into the arrivals area of the small airport. When I accepted this job, I was told someone would be waiting for me when I arrived to drive me to the house where I’ll be working as a live-in tutor, and, sure enough, there’s a smartly dressed middle-aged man holding up a sign that reads WINTERS. He’s easy to spot because there are literally no other drivers waiting to meet the small cluster of people emerging into the arrivals area.
“I’m Jai Winters,” I say as I approach him.
He glances at me for a moment, his eyes scanning up and down, before asking, “Can I see some ID, please, sir?”
“Uh…sure.” I show him my passport, which he seems to find acceptable because he gives a curt nod before grabbing the handle of my suitcase and motioning for me to follow him to the exit.
He leads me to a sleek black sedan, and as I relax back on the buttery leather seats, watching out the window as we leave the airport behind, I can’t help wondering about the family I’ll be working for. All I know is that they’re an old aristocratic family and they have two children who need schooling in French, German and history. I’m not entirely sure why they’ve hired me and not someone with an actual teaching qualification, but I’m not about to turn my nose up at a paying job. Especially not one in a country I’ve been dreaming about visiting for years.
Still watching out the window, I notice we’re approaching the cobbled streets and red-roofed buildings of Vlalens’s Old Town. I’m excited to see it, but that’s offset by my confusion, because as far as I know, all the main aristocratic estates are further out, away from the center of town.
I don’t say anything, though, figuring the driver knows where he’s going. And when he drives through the front gates of a building I recognize in an instant, my jaw practically drops into my lap. This cannot be right. No way have I been hired to work in the royal palace.
When the driver pulls up and my door is opened by a waiting servant, I get out of the car, a little unsteady on my feet with my mind still in a complete daze.
I glance around for my suitcase, but the man who opened the car door for me merely smiles and gestures for me to step inside the palace. “This way please, Mr. Winters. Your luggage will be taken to your suite for you.”
My suite?
I step inside and am promptly met by a pint-sized woman who, despite her small stature, looks stern enough to command an army. She’s probably about my mom’s age, and is wearing a tailored pantsuit I’m sure my mother would find just darling. Her iron gray hair hangs in straight curtains just past her chin, and her lips are painted with bright red lipstick.
“I am Veronika Zareva, Crown Secretary,” she says with a slight Korovan accent, extending her hand for me to shake. “We spoke on the phone.”
I nod and take her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I’m a little surprised. When you said I’d be working for an aristocratic family, this wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“There were security protocols to maintain,” she explains. “I hope you are not disappointed?”
I let out a breath of wry laughter. “No, definitely not. Just a little dazed.”
“Come with me. I’ll show you to your suite and explain more about your role.”
I keep pace alongside Veronika as she strides briskly through the halls of the palace. My eyes don’t really know where to look, but I decide to just listen to Veronika for now and get my bearings later.
“As we’ve already discussed, you’ll be tutoring the prince and princess in French, German and history—”
“Won’t the prince be going away to school soon?” I ask, recalling something I read earlier in the year about Prince Tomas turning eleven.