Prince of my Panties (Royal Package 2)

“Of c-course,” Lizzy promises, taking my hand and holding tight.

I squeeze her fingers and nod my agreement.

Manfri starts up the steps, reaching for the canvas flap before turning back to whisper, “Give me a second. I’m going to announce that she has a client. She told fortunes for decades. It’s a situation she associates with being comfortable talking to strangers. Hopefully, that will make this easier.” He ducks inside and I turn to Lizzy, but her attention is fixed on the wagon.

“Do you want me to stay outside?” I ask softly.

“No,” she says, still focused on the canvas flap. “I might need your ears in case mine stop working.” She sighs. “That’s part of the reason we’re here, right? If I’d paid closer attention to what she said the first time, we wouldn’t have had to track her down nearly twenty years later.”

I’m about to reassure her that it’s perfectly understandable for a child to be scared and have trouble focusing on what their kidnapper has to say, but Manfri is back at the door, beckoning us inside.

28

Elizabeth

I step through the flap, pausing as my eyes adjust to the faint lamplight. When they do, I’m surprised by how cozy the space feels, and how much like an actual room.

Pictures and tapestries hang from the canvas walls, and a thick Persian rug covers the floor. To my right, a leather couch takes up most of the opposite wall, but there is still space for a small food prep station with plates and cups tucked into cubby-type shelves beneath.

To the left, a U-shaped couch in faded blue velvet takes up most of the back half of the wagon. That’s where Kaula and Manfri’s aunt are seated, in front of a large circular table covered by a green and blue scarf.

Kaula is smiling, but when her eyes meet mine, there isn’t so much as a flicker of recognition.

“Come, sit down.” Manfri pulls a crystal ball on a carved wooden stand from a cabinet beside the couch and sets it in front of the women. He lifts the scarf tablecloth, pulling two wooden stools from underneath and motioning to them. “Kaula will be doing your reading. And this is Tammy, her assistant.”

“I didn’t use to need an assistant,” Kaula says slowly, wrapping her thin fingers around the crystal. “But sometimes, I can’t find my words.”

“It’s fine, Mami, you’re going to do great,” Manfri says encouragingly. He perches on the edge of the blue couch, clearly ready to pop up and escort us out at the first sign of tension. “I told these nice people about your trouble. They’re still excited to talk to you. They just have a few questions, and then I can get your tarot cards if you want to do a three-card spread.”

Kaula smiles and murmurs, “Good, good,” but her expression remains vague, as if her face no longer remembers how to fully commit to showing what she’s feeling.

This is a waste of time, at best, and an exercise in upsetting the elderly, at worst, but we’re here and that same swiftly flowing river that swept Jeffrey and I this far, is still dragging at my limbs and pulling words from my lips. “Mrs. Young, my name is Elizabeth Rochat. We met a long time ago, but I’m not sure you’ll remember. I was only seven years old.”

Kaula’s brow furrows, and her head lilts to the left. “No, I don’t think so. That can’t be right.” I’m about to offer a few more details to maybe jog her memory, when she adds, “You couldn’t have been more than five. You were such a tiny thing.”

My heart leaps into my throat, but somehow, I manage to speak around the lump. “You remember?”

She nods, and her lips pucker. “I wanted to wait until you were older, but we were leaving. Going…somewhere.”

“To France,” Tammy offers, her eyes wide. “With Richard and his crew. Remember?” She glances our way, adding in a whisper. “He was her second husband. He thought things would be better for our people there.”

“But they weren’t.” Kaula’s frown claws deeper into her forehead. “It was… But I don’t…” She shakes her head. “Where is Richard? What—”

“It’s okay, Mami,” Manfri cuts in. “Richard’s gone, and you’re safe with family. That dilo won’t bother you again. These people just want to know about the day you talked to Elizabeth.”

Her attention settles on my face again, staring flatly for a beat before she blinks and her focus sharpens. “Yes. You were so little, I was afraid you wouldn’t remember, but I had a vision. I had to try to put your mind at ease.”

“And you thought kidnapping me and telling me I was going to die on my twenty-sixth birthday was the best way to do that?” I ask, fighting to keep the words calm, non-accusing, but heat sneaks into my tone.