Page 111 of Royally Matched
Father barks out a laugh so hard, he’s forced to place his hands on his belly to contain it like he’s Santa Claus while Mummy grins as though she’s the cat who got the cream.
Marco and I are still none the wiser.
“Is that funny, Your Majesty?” Marco questions.
“Don’t you see? Your ancient scroll smells of coffee because that’s what I got Jason to rub all over it to make it look old in the first place.”
“You did what now?” I guffaw.
Has my father completely lost his mind?
Father mimes Jason’s actions. “He dipped a rag in a cup of coffee and smeared it all over the scroll. He did a jolly convincing job, don’t you think? It looked like the real deal in the end.”
“But Father, Marco and I discovered this scroll hidden under the palace where it had been for hundreds of years. We were the first to find it, thanks to the riddle that was given to Marco anonymously.”
Father’s response is to let out another hearty laugh, asthough what I’ve said is the funniest thing he’s heard all week. Possibly all year.
This is so unlike my father. He doesn't laugh wholeheartedly at things, clutching his belly like he’s Santa Claus. He's serious and sometimes severe, showing his love in less obvious ways than Mummy’s easy charm and warmth.
“Findit? I had to lead you by the nose right to that thing. One of your labradors would have found it faster than the two of you, and we all know they don’t care for coffee, rather garden party canapés.”
“Are you sure Sofia’s dogs don’t have a taste for coffee, my dear? I’m sure Lemon and Pepper might quite enjoy a cup if it was laced with cream and sugar,” Mummy says, looking just as amused as Father.
This is getting weirder and weirder.
I turn to Marco in exasperation. He’s got his brow creased.
“How did Amelia get involved?” he asks.
“Amelia?” I question. I didn’t think I could get more confused, but here I am, confused with the capital “C.”
I look between my parents and Marco. “What’s Amelia got to do with all of this?”
“We sent Amelia to tell you about the professor in Monteluce,” Father replies. “Of course, she demanded to know why, but we told her she would learn soon enough. I imagine she’s going to be tickled pink once she knows how this all turned out.”
“She wasn’t behind the whole thing?” Marco questions.
Father shakes his head and says simply, “No.”
Amelia behind the whole thing? What is Marco talking about?
I hold my hands up in exasperation. “Could somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
“Ask Marco. I think he’s got it. Am I right, Mr. Revera?” Father asks.
“I may have cracked it, sir, although I did think Amelia had something to do with it,” he replies. “I think what you’re saying is that for reasons beyond my grasp right now, you had Jason make a scroll look like it had been written over 250 years ago—using instant coffee—placed it in a tunnel under the throne room that no one knew about, and left clues for your daughter and me to find it, and then sent us on a quest to discover its meaning.”
My jaw drops open as I gape at him. It all sounds like a plot to some Indiana Jones movie, not my real life.
“Well done, young man,” Father says, leaping up and taking Marco’s hand in his and slapping him on the back.
“You are a clever one,” Mummy adds with a satisfied smirk. “Just as we’d suspected.”
“So, it was you who had the riddle delivered to me?” Marco asks.
“Hasn’t it all been a wonderful bit of fun?” Mummy asks brightly. “And look at the two of you. I would say this is all a rather wonderful added bonus.”
I stare at them all, open-mouthed. My parents forged an ancient scroll decreeing that the first-born child should inherit the crown regardless of gender—which, in reality, is just a piece of paper, smeared with instant coffee—and sent it in a riddle to Marco for him to bring to me so we could solve it together?