Monday, December 2811:30 A.M.Royal Pool
It’s three days before my sister’s royal coronation … the first coronation of a female ruler in Genovia in two centuries!
I should be having fun—especially since it’s winter break, my best friend, Nishi, is visiting from America, and I get to be in the coronation ceremony.
But instead I’m being forced to entertain my snobby cousin Lady Luisa Ferrari because her grandmother, the baroness, is in Biarritz with her new gentleman friend.
“I’m bored,” Luisa keeps saying.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to work on your tan,” I remind her. We’re stretched out in the winter sun on chaise longues next to the pool, which is heated. But still.
“How can you be bored staying in a royal palace?” Nishi wants to know. She doesn’t mind hanging by the pool, because even though it’s only seventy degrees in Genovia right now, it’s thirty-five and snowing in New Jersey, where Nishi’s visiting from. “They have everything here: tennis courts, horseback riding, sailing, mani-pedis, a state-of-the-art home theater, all the food you can eat, prepared by a five-star chef—”
“Yes, but hello.” Luisa holds up her phone. “The cell service? Horrible.”
“What do you expect from a building that was constructed in medieval times?” I ask. “The walls had to be made three feet thick in order to keep out invading marauders.”
“Yes, but now they’re keeping out my cell phone service provider.” Lady Luisa adjusts her floppy hat. She wants to tan on her body, not her face. “It’s no wonder the duke hasn’t been able to reach me.”
The duke. That’s all Luisa ever talks about, her boyfriend, the Duke of Marborough.
I have a boyfriend, too—well, a friend-who-is-a-boy—but I don’t talk about him all the time.
And I highly doubt that the reason Luisa hasn’t heard from her boyfriend is because of the palace’s thick walls. More likely it’s because they’re in another one of their fights. All Luisa and the duke ever do is fight, usually over the duke’s refusal to do anything except play video games. Which would be all right if Luisa played video games, too, but she doesn’t.
“You know, Luisa,” I can’t help pointing out, “you’re living through one of the most momentous occasions in Genovian history. My sister’s coronation on Thursday is going to be attended by over two hundred heads of state and televised worldwide—”
“Oh my God, I know,” Luisa says with a yawn. “You’ve only mentioned it a million times. Could you please pass me the sunscreen?”
It’s not really my cousin’s fault that she’s so rude. She actually has a pretty rough home life. Her parents are getting divorced and, according to my friend Princess Komiko, her mom and dad are fighting over who isn’t going to get custody of Lady Luisa.
That’s why Luisa lives with her grandmother in the first place, a grandmother who is always jetting off to places like Biarritz with new gentlemen friends.
“I don’t understand why your sister even has to have a coronation ceremony, Olivia,” Nishi says. “Isn’t she already a princess?”
It’s natural that Nishi would be confused about this, since she’s from the US and hasn’t been getting the endless lessons on the coronation that we have here in Genovia, both in school and on the nightly news.
“Of course she’s already a princess,” I say. “We both are, since our dad is a prince. But Dad is abdicating—which means giving up the crown—so that he can spend more time with me and Rocky. So on Thursday, at the coronation, Mia will formally take over the throne from my dad.”
“Oh.” Nishi adjusts her sunglasses. “But then why isn’t she becoming a queen?”
I sigh. Royal life is complicated.
“Because Genovia is a principality,” I explain, “which means it’s ruled by either a prince or a princess, not a king or a queen.”
“Um, technically, it’s not ruled by either,” Luisa says in a waspish voice. “Genovians have a prime minister. The royal family doesn’t actually make any laws. Their role is only symbolic. So it’s not like Princess Mia will actually ever do anything once she’s crowned.”
I suck in my breath, shocked.
But before I can tell Lady Luisa how rude she’s being, Rocky, my little stepbrother, comes bursting into the royal gardens, running at full speed, my miniature poodle, Snowball, barking at his heels.
“Olivia!” he shrieks. “They’re here! They’re finally here!”
“Good grief,” Luisa says, lowering her sunglasses to get a better look at him. “What’s his problem?”
What’s yours? I want to ask her, even though I already know.
“What’s here, Rocky?” I ask him instead, when he skids to a stop in front of us.
“The Robe of State,” he pants. “And the royal crown!”
No more hanging out at the pool with my rude cousin for me! I’ve got a crown to inspect.
Copyright © 2018 by Meg Cabot, LLC
