Page 61 of Royally Matched
Why on earth would Marco think Amelia would know someone who could translate ancient Ledonian? And the book isn’t even in ancient Ledonian, anyway. It makes no sense.
“Me? Hardly,” Amelia scoffs. She rubs her chin. “Although, now that I think about it, I did read about an old professor who used to teach ancient Ledonian at St. Cecil University here in Villadorata. Apparently, he’s retired these days and lives somewhere in the mountains, but he’s awfully good at translations. The best, the article said.”
I blink at her in disbelief. How the heck would my sister know something as random asthat? She’s never been interested in translations or old Ledonian let alone professors. And she claims to have read an article about this? Have I stepped into a parallel universe or something?
“I imagine you know where we can find this scholar,” Marco says, giving her a knowing smile.
I shoot him a look. He’s acting so strangely, almost as though he thinks Amelia has something to do with thisriddle. Which of course she doesn’t. She’s Amelia. She’s not interested in riddles or hidden passageways or rightful rulers or any of that stuff. She’s interested in escaping her royal duties and having torrid love affairs.
My sister shrugs. “No clue, sorry. But there is this rather wonderful invention called Google. Have you heard of it? I imagine you could use it if you wanted to find the man.”
Marco’s still smiling at her as though he’s in on some joke. “We might just do that.”
“Great. Enjoy your books about fish.” She flashes us her pretty smile before she turns on her heel and sashays toward the door.
“What were you doing in here if not looking for a book,” I call out after her.
She replies, “No reason,” and then disappears out the door.
I turn to Marco. “What was that all about?”
“You got me,” he replies with a shrug. “Do you want to see if the throne room is empty?”
I beam at him despite the oddness between him and Amelia. This is exciting, solving a riddle together, and I for one am keen to discover the next steps. “I do.”
He grins, his face lit up, his eyes dancing. “In that case, let the adventure continue.”
Chapter 16
Marco
Princess Amelia, it turns out, is about as subtle as a cannonball in a swimming pool. It’s so obvious she’s decided I’m her sister’s soulmate with this whole plan of hers. Could she be any less obvious? I mean, turning up in the library—not looking for a book—and telling Sofia and me about where we can find someone to translate old Ledonian when we don’t have any call for it, is either incredibly odd or, if my theory is correct, whatever we find next willbe written in old Ledonian. And in need of a professor to translate it for us, too.
Like I said, a cannonball into a swimming pool.
We left the library behind, and have been walking these palace hallways for some time. The soaring ceilings, gilded details, and lush patterned carpet feel appropriately opulent, with majestic columns framing staircases, and sunlight pouring through large windows. This might be Sofia’s every day journey through her home, but for me it’s like being transported to another world. Another life.
“You could get fit jogging between appointments in this place,” I say as we begin to climb a wide staircase.
“These are the formal, public parts of the palace. We live in the other wing, where the library is,” she replies.
“So, when people do palace tours, they don’t see your private rooms?”
“Heavens, no. We need to have some separation between our public and private lives, otherwise we’d get no space for ourselves.”
“That makes sense. Do you spend much time in this public wing?”
“Not really. The ballroom is down there,” she says, pointing down a corridor to our right, and my mind turns to the ball where we first met.
How differently I see Sofia now.
“I’ve spent some time there recently,” I reply and win a smile flashed my way.
I glance at her beside me. She’s got a determined look on her face, her stride fast and purposeful. Sofia might look like the haughty, serious person she first appears, even today wearing a dress with puff short sleeves and a full skirt and a pair of pumps on her feet, but I know there’s a beating heart beneath that tightly buttoned blouse, a heart that has a depth to it you don’t first see.
Still water runs deep, isn’t that the saying? People who appear to be tightly controlled, with a calm, reserved exterior have hidden complexity, an intensity not immediately apparent? Yeah, that’s Sofia all right. A still water that runs deep, very unlike her cannonball of a sister.
“Here we are,” she says in a quiet tone as we come to a stop outside grand gilded double doors, so tall a giant could pass through without having to duck his head.