When they realize I’m with their prince, everything changes. It’s like the temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Everyone looks away from me, or at most, at my feet. The receptionists go stone still, staring at their hands, hovering at their keyboards, as if they’re afraid of appearing to slack off.
They are. They’re all terrified. I can feel it, like a chilly fog swirling around my shoulders. The normal background noise that was there a minute ago is gone, the way the woods go silent and the bugs and birds cease all sound as a predator passes by.
“We’re here to see the American girl,” the prince says in clipped Kosztylan.
The two receptionists look at each other like they’re willing the other one to take the task, until the one on the left finally stands up, smooths her clean white uniform, and steps out from around the desk.
“If your grace would follow me.”
The prince nods and we follow. I stay a step behind his right shoulder, almost instinctively. There is no shortage of people here, and as we move by they incline their heads and stand still, waiting for us to pass before they move.
“They’re all terrified of you.”
“It’s respect.”
“It’s terror. People look at other people they respect. Can’t you feel it?”
“No.”
I feel horrible for the poor girl as we step into an elevator. She stands in the corner, as though she would sink into it and disappear if she could, and jabs the elevator button.
The prince doesn’t even acknowledge her existence. His expression is clouded, his eyes distant. He glances at me and then looks away until the doors open and he motions for the girl to lead us. She looks down and scurries ahead, as if she’s afraid of what will happen if he gets too close to her, like a prey animal scared a predator is going to take her scent.
His heels click loudly on the floor. The nurses in the hallway stop, turn, and bow their heads. Orderlies pushing carts stop and back up to stay well clear of their leader. It’s like the whole world opens for him, like parting the Red Sea. I find myself wondering if he knows what it’s like to have something in his way.
After two turns down a corridor, the receptionist stops. The guards standing on either side of the door clasp their hands to their chests in some kind of salute. The prince doesn’t deign to return it. He starts toward the door.
“Your grace,” the receptionist says.
He stops and looks at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time.
“B-b-begging your pardon, but the doctors have left a special instruction. The patient does not react well to the presence of men.”
“Why did you not tell me before?”
“I d-did not want to offend your grace.”
His lips press into a thin frown.
I step forward, in front of him, and rest my hands on her arms. She stares at me and blinks.
“It’s alright. Thank you for telling us. I’ll go in alone.”
I hope she understood that. She blinks at me a few times, and then the prince repeats what I said, properly.
She smiles and nods and scurries away, taking a glance at us as if she’s trying to figure me out, only to pick up her pace when she realizes she forgot herself and presumed to look at the prince’s royal ass.
“You presume again,” he says to me when she’s gone.
“What’s more important to you, my friend’s well-being or getting your way?”
“I’ll wait,” he says.
He paces to the far side of the hall and sits down on a white wooden bench, showing perfect posture as his hands rest on his thighs.
I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
The door swings open and I quickly close it behind me. I’m not sure what I was expecting. The room is bright and airy, warm light pouring in through tall windows. Melissa sits on a comfy-looking bed with the back raised, reading a Bible.
I take a step into the room then rap my knuckles onto the wall.
“Melissa?”
She looks up and stops mouthing the words and freezes, doe-eyed and pale as a ghost. She’s been cleaned up and wears her hair in a loose ponytail, and she has dressed in a set of white scrubs. She wiggles her toes under the sheets as I approach.
“Penny?” she says, as if she can’t believe it’s me.
She touches my arm and tugs lightly on the sleeve of my dress, testing to make sure I’m really real.
Her voice is tiny and thin. “I asked if you were okay, but they wouldn’t tell me where you were.”
“I’m alright. Have they been treating you well?”
“The doctors scared me, but they went away.”
There’s something childlike in her voice. If I was talking to her on the phone, I’d think she was a twelve-year-old.
“The nurses are nice. They gave me Band-Aids and let me eat lime Jell-O. I don’t think it’s real Jell-O.”
She lowers her voice.
“One of them told me you were with the prince. Is that him outside?”
“Yes.”
“Is he coming in?”
Her eyes. The look in her eyes crushes me. I feel like I’m going to sink through the floor. I gently take her hands in mine.
“No, he’s not. He’s not going to hurt you. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore, I promise.”