Kiss in Time 15 page

I look behind me. Sure enough, she’s gone. “She left.”

“Oh, no,” Talia says. “But she was kind to me. She showed me how to make this dress.”

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

I hold my hand out to Talia. I want to touch her and not stop touching her, to prove to myself that she’s real and alive and here. “I think we have to go.”

“In a moment.” She pulls me toward her and kisses me a bunch more times, on my cheeks, my hair, even my eyes.

I throw my arms around her and hold her a really long time until finally the cottage door starts banging with the wind, and the noise reminds me that everyone’s waiting for us, Talia’s parents and the people in the castle. And Dad, too.

“We should go,” I say.

She nods and allows me to help her up. With a final glance around the room, we leave, closing the door behind us.

As we descend the hill, she says, “Do you know what I was thinking, Jack?”

“What?” I stop to kiss her again. I rescued this princess, so I should be able to kiss her all I want, as long as she wants to, too. The wind, which had been roaring in our ears, has stopped.

Afterward, she says, “I think you were my true love all the time. That must be why I woke. Malvolia was wrong.”

“You think?”

“Yes, but she had her reasons. I wish I knew where she went. Perhaps if we come back another day . . .” She gestures uphill at the cottage, then gasps.

I look at what she’s looking at but see nothing. The cottage is gone.

“Well, that’s the end of that,” I say. “Hey, maybe we can walk a little faster? I’m hungry, and like I said, it took me three days to walk up here.”

“Yes,” Talia says. “And I need to see Father. We must talk.”

She starts to run, and because we’re holding hands, I run, too. We run down the hill so fast it feels like we’re flying.

Chapter 4 :9

j Talia

When we reach the castle grounds, I clutch Jack’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“I am frightened.”

“Of what?”

“Of what? Let us see . . . Father was already angry at me a week ago for destroying his kingdom. Now add to that the offense of running away, getting on an airplane, leaving the country, losing my jewels—”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Meryl found the jewels. I brought them with me.”

“All right. Not the jewels. But nonetheless . . . and the offense of falling in love with a commoner.” I gaze up at him. “Not that that is an offense to me, my dearest.” He rolls his eyes. “Of course not.”

“But Father may possibly disagree with me.”

“Understood. He’s been in a bad mood.”

“So do I not have reason to be frightened?” But at that moment, the castle door is thrown open and a mob descends—not only people, although every scullery maid, cook, lady-in-waiting, groom, and guard is there, but also animals, the palace dogs and cats and chickens and cows and horses, and even the five fairies, Flavia, Celia, Violet, Leila, and Xanthe, all pour forth from the castle door to see me, to greet me, their beloved princess.

At the head of the group are Father and Mother. I drop Jack’s hand—he will forgive me—and run screaming into their arms.

“You are not angry at me, Father?” I ask as soon as I can easily breathe under his embrace.

“No, no, my dearest.”

Mother says, “Your father lost his temper, dear. But now, he realizes you could not have helped what happened.

You were dealing, after all, with the forces of evil.” I remember Malvolia’s story of the baby, and I know I should protest. But on the other hand, Malvolia is gone, and Mother and Father have stopped being angry at me.

There will be time to straighten out that matter in the future. And I will straighten it out.

“I am so glad to be home!” I say, and we hug some more.

Behind me, I hear a tiny voice—Flavia’s voice—saying,

“He was her true love after all!”

“Besides,” Father says, “I believe we have it all settled now, how Euphrasia will survive in the twenty-first century.”

“You have?” I say.

“Yes. Perhaps we should discuss it over breakfast.” We adjourn into the castle. The dining table is laid for a small group, a dozen or so, and Mother is all smiles. “Did you know,” she says, “that they have something called a truck now, which moves so quickly that it is possible to bring in food and other necessities from Belgium and even France?”

I beam. I did know that. I move closer to Jack, for it has occurred to me that—true love or not—we may not be long in each other’s company. He must go back to America, for school, and I will stay in Euphrasia with Father and Mother. But we are together now, and I shall make the most of it.

“Evan.” My father turns to Jack’s father. “Tell them about Royal Euphrasia.”

“What’s Royal Euphrasia?” Jack and I both say together.

“Well, it’s an idea King Louis and I had, a joint venture between the Euphrasian government and my company.

King Louis was concerned that now that Euphrasia is visible again—now that the hedge is gone—the kingdom might be vulnerable to some sort of outside takeover. King Louis might be overthrown. He did not want that, so we had to think of a way in which Euphrasia could support itself.” 359

“Support itself?” I think of the world I have seen, a world of airplanes and computers, photographs and televisions. How can Euphrasia possibly compete?

But Jack’s father continues. “See, when the kids were little, my wife and I liked to go to these tourist attractions—

Colonial Williamsburg, Medieval Times . . . remember, Jack?”

Jack nods. “That was fun.”

“So when I saw this place, I thought what a great idea it would be to develop Euphrasia as a tourist attraction. It would be just like Williamsburg, only real, with real people from the seventeenth century, and maybe we could open some cute little hotels where people could actually live like they did in your time.”

“With no toilets?” Jack says.

“I have to admit, I really do like toilets,” I say, although I am ready to say I like anything at all if it will make Father happy. “Perhaps we could have some toilets.”

“But you see, Talia,” Father says, “in this way, the people of Euphrasia could continue to live as they are accustomed.

And I would be able to continue being a king, and you a princess. The curse caused the world to forget us. But once they find out that we are here, that we are back again, there may be a movement to change things.”

I nod. I remember seeing Euphrasia from the airplane.

It was small, but it was there.

“Of course, we’d need to do some painting and repairs before we could open,” Mr. O’Neill says, “and maybe get 360

some better costumes for people.”

“But what they are wearing is authentic,” I say.

“Oh, I know,” Mother says. “But Mr. O’Neill explained that there is authentic and there is authentic. People want things to be more colorful, and not have the townspeople running about looking like mushrooms.” And in a second, I think, I could sew the clothes. Would they allow me to sew?

“And we’d need to do some better landscaping, too,” Mr. O’Neill says. “I’ve just found this design my son has been working on.”

I hear Jack draw in a breath. “You found that?” I draw my breath, too. Jack told me, on the way back, how he showed his landscape design to the dragon father Malvolia created. He told me that, in this vision, his father laughed at him, ridiculed him. I pray he will be strong. I dearly hope his father will not hurt him.

“So . . .” Jack kicks the ground with his shoe, not making eye contact with his father. “Do you like it?” Please let him like it.

His father nods, smiling. “It was the inspiration for all of this. Once we found this, it helped us to visualize, and that’s how the whole plan got started. You have talent, Jack. You can work with the landscape designers to help us achieve a really great look for Royal Euphrasia.”

“But . . .” Jack stammers. “But I thought you wanted me to go to business school.”

“That was before I saw what a talent you had for this.

Your mother and I hadn’t realized you had an interest in landscape design. For a while, we worried you weren’t interested in anything. But now . . .” It is as Meryl said. Jack’s parents were worried about him, as mine were about me.

“Jack has a talent for gardening,” I say, “a great affinity for the land.”

Jack’s father nods. “You can help us with Royal Euphrasia in the summers.”

“Really? I could stay here and work on it?” Jack asks.

“Well, for the rest of the summer . . . and then you could come over for Christmas break and spring break and, of course, college.”

I know how Jack detests talk of college, but now he says, “Yeah, that’d be cool. I could go to college in Europe and maybe major in landscape design.” He glances at his father, whose face is inscrutable. “I could minor in business, so I’ll be able to help you with this.”

“But you’d better get your grades up, if you want to be able to do that,” his father says. “And maybe take French.”

“That’ll be easy,” Jack says. “With my girlfriend over here, and me over there, I’ll have lots of time to study.”

“So you approve of Jack . . . Jack and me?” I say to Father.

Father laughs. “Of course I do. Clearly, he was your destiny. And he and his father are saving . . . how would you say it, Travis?” He looks at him. “. . . our Euphrasian behinds.”

I gaze into Jack’s eyes. I would like to kiss him again, but that would be impossible, with our fathers here. Still, I move toward him and grasp his hand.

I hadn’t noticed Travis before, but now he interrupts.

“Hey, can I be in charge of food? Maybe we could open the first Euphrasian hot-dog stand.”

I clap my hands. “Yes! I love hot dogs! Can you make them, then?”

We all laugh, and I know it will be all right. It is finally all right.

G

G Two Years

Later

= G

G

j

Talia

“Are you ready?” Jack asks.

I survey his attire. He is not dressed exactly as he was when first we met. I know all too well what marketing people are now, and they and Jack’s father had their ideas about the costume. So instead of swim trunks under his jeans, Jack wears artfully “destroyed” blue jeans, and the flag T-shirt is replaced by a clean, plain one. I chose white, the better to show off his tanned good looks. He is still as handsome as he was that day.

“As ever, my love,” I say, adjusting my green gown. “But there is a little time, is there not? Might we look out the window?”

“We might.” Jack offers his hand, and we walk to the window. It is three stories up, and below, where the moat once was, a lengthy queue has formed within velvet ropes.

There are so many little girls in line. Some wear crowns, and others are even dressed like me, in satiny green gowns which cost many Euros! To one side, a woman circulates, selling spindle-shaped holders covered in pink and blue spun sugar candy. Several fairies flutter around in the trees, watching at a safe distance from the crowd.

“All to see us?” I ask Jack.

“I told you, this stuff ’s really popular. At Disney, they reenact the Sword and the Stone every day.” I well know it. Last summer, Jack and I went on a tour of all the Disneys (Florida, California, Paris, and Tokyo) as well as Colonial Williamsburg and Plimoth Plantation, in preparation for the opening of Royal Euphrasia. I know all about tourist attractions and lines of people. Indeed, we had to relocate the scene of Jack’s and my first kiss from the tower room to a larger venue (formed by knocking out several walls between the guest bedrooms and add-ing a grandstand of seats), the better to accommodate the crowds.

“Why do you suppose they are all here?” I ask.

“They want magic in their lives, I guess,” Jack says.

“Magic like we have?” I look into his eyes.

“It will be even bigger, once the movie comes out,” Jack says.

“Yes, but we will not be here then.”

It is true. Come fall, Jack will be off to England to study Landscape Architecture in Manchester, while I will be in Paris, studying fashion. It is my aim to design elegant 368

clothing for young ladies—clothing to make them feel like princesses and not show their bellies. Actors will play the parts of Jack and Talia at Royal Euphrasia after we leave.

But for now, and every summer and winter break hereaf-ter, Jack and I will meet in Euphrasia. And someday, we may live here together in the castle. When it was remodeled, many of the rooms were blocked off so that Mother, Father, Jack, and I, and even our future children, might have a place to stay.

But first, there shall be adventure. And travel. And when I return to Euphrasia, it will be because I wish to settle down, not because I have to.

“Dear Jack,” I say, “it has all worked out so perfectly!” He sweeps me into his arms for a kiss, a lengthy one that makes me forget everything that has come before it, and indeed, all the people outside. It continues until we are interrupted by the clearing of an elderly throat.

“Ahem. Perhaps you should save that for your audience.”

It is Malvolia. Jack and I pull apart from each other . . .

guiltily.

“The christening scene went well, then?” I ask her.

“Indeed.” She rubs her hands together. “I had those wee ones more scared of me than they would be of any roller coaster.” She smiles.

“You are, indeed, quite frightening,” I say.

I spoke with Father about Malvolia. It was a good deal of work to persuade him that he might have been wrong in 369

exiling her. But I pointed out that Lady Brooke had been none too careful in watching me that fateful day. When he sent for Lady Brooke to discuss the allegation that she had lied about Prince George, it was found that she had disappeared from Euphrasia entirely. Grudgingly, thereaf-ter, Father agreed reluctantly that a fairy dressmaker might be of some use in the castle, on a probationary basis, since there were no children about for her to harm. The other fairies helped us to search for her within her realm. Once she heard of the possibility of forgiveness, she allowed herself to be found. She proved such a godsend that he has allowed her to continue on, playing herself in the daily shows. In rehearsals, when she disappeared into a puff of smoke, the assembled onlookers were amazed at the special effect. They searched far and wide and could find no trapdoor. I expect she shall long be with us.

Now, she begins to laugh and does her trick again. In an instant, she is gone.

Travis appears at the door. “Are we ready?” he asks.

I can hear the sound of many feet trooping up the castle steps. I take my place on a pretty velvet sofa under a frieze of flowers designed and drawn by Meryl after the original tapestries were destroyed in the remodeling. I commence to feign sleep. I can hear the audience filling in their seats.

A Royal Euphrasia employee welcomes them to the show.

Then, Jack and Travis enter stage right.

“Wow, she’s hot,” Travis says.

“I know,” Jack says, and I can feel him leaning closer to 370

me. “But she’s asleep, like the rest of them.” They go through a bit of scripted dialogue, Travis trying to persuade Jack to kiss me, Jack resisting. Finally, Jack says, “Look, I want to kiss her, but not in front of you.

Why don’t you go downstairs and look around? The princess and I need some time alone.”

Travis leaves, and Jack leans even closer. He kisses me. I rise from my sleep.

It is magic! The audience applauds, and we are on our way to happily ever after. Again.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Marjetta Geerling for her insightful reading and for setting up our incomparable YA retreat group.

Thanks also to my agent, George Nicholson; my editor, Toni Markiet; her assistant, Jayne Carapezzi; and especially my mother, Manya Lowman, for all her behind-the-scenes support that allows me to keep going as a writer.

About the Author

ALEX FLINN loves fairy tales and is also the author of a modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast titled BEASTLY, which was named a VOYA Editor’s Choice for 2007, a New York Public Library Book for the Teen Age for 2008, and a 2008 ALA Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Adult Readers. Her other books include BREATHING UNDERWATER, an ALA Top 10 Best Book for Young Adults, BREAKING POINT, NOTHING TO LOSE, FADE TO BLACK, and DIVA. She lives in Miami with her husband, two kids, a cat, and a dog. Visit Alex on the web at www.alexflinn.com.

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breathing underwater

breaking point

nothing to lose

fade to black

diva

beastly

Credits

Typography by Michelle Gengaro

Jacket photograph © 2009 by Larry Rostant Jacket design by Sasha Illingworth

Copyright

A KISS IN TIME. Copyright © 2009 by Alex Flinn. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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ISBN 978-0-06-190970-2

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Date: 2015-02-03; view: 612