Chapter 1: Ada
I have made many questionable decisions in my life. I once tried to fix a toaster with a hairpin. I once punched a Governor in the face. I once agreed to date a Prince who looks like he was sculpted out of marble and arrogance.
But my current decision was definitely top three.
I was living under a 1998 Ford F-150.
"Ada."
"No."
"Ada, my love, the jet is fueled. The pilot is waiting. The champagne is chilling."
"Drink it without me, Sparky. I am part of the chassis now. I am a structural component. If I move then the truck collapses."
From my vantage point on the creeper board, all I could see were a pair of painfully expensive Italian leather shoes pacing back and forth on the oil-stained concrete of my dad’s garage.
Prince Nikolai stopped pacing. He crouched down. His face appeared upside down in my field of vision. He was framed by the rusted muffler and wearing a three-piece charcoal suit that probably cost more than the entire building I was currently holding hostage.
"You cannot hide under a farm truck forever," Nikolai said. His grey eyes looked annoyingly patient. "Valoria is waiting."
"Valoria can wait," I told the muffler. "Valoria is scary. I am not going."
"We have been over this," Nikolai said, reaching out to tap my boot. "You met my father at the Peace Ball. You two got along famously. You ate shrimp. You laughed. He talked to your father about torque specs for twenty minutes."
"That was a party, Nikolai!" I argued, clinging to the driveshaft like a koala. "Everyone is nice at a party with an open bar. This is different. This is the Royal Tour. This is me meeting the rest of them. The Council. The Governors. The people who think smiling is a sign of weakness."
I shuddered. "And your mother."
Nikolai paused. "My mother is... spirited."
"Your mother is a shark in silk, Nik. I saw a picture of her. She doesn't blink. I bet she eats mechanics for breakfast. She probably has a special fork for it."
"She does not eat mechanics," Nikolai sighed. "She is the Queen. She merely has high standards."
"Exactly. My standards involve not having grease under my fingernails, and I am currently failing that standard."
I heard a loud crunch from the corner of the garage.
"She has a point, Prince," Jax said. His voice was muffled by a mouthful of chips. "Queen Elena looks terrifying. I saw her on the news once. She stared at the camera and my TV broke out of fear."
"Thank you, Rebel!" I shouted, banging my hand against the transmission case. "I am not going! I am declaring the Independent Republic of Ada. No boys allowed. Especially boys with circlets."
"It is a symbol of office, not jewelry," Nikolai hissed, standing up to glare at the peanut gallery. "And stop eating those spicy chips, Farm Boy. You are getting red dust on Mr. Lovelace’s workbench."
"It adds flavor to the motor oil," Jax shot back.
I rolled my eyes and adjusted my position on the creeper. My back was killing me, and I had a smudge of grease on my nose that was starting to itch, but I refused to surrender.
The truth was that I was terrified.
For the last three months life had been surprisingly okay. The Treaty was signed. The King had thanked me. I was allowed to work in the Royal Garage during the day and act like a semi-respectable human being at night.
But the Valorian Court? That was the big leagues.
Valoria was Nikolai’s home. It was a nation built on steel, discipline, and rules. King Valerius might have been charmed by my dad’s knowledge of cars, but the Queen? The Court ladies? The Governors who had spent the last twenty years at war with us? They were going to look at my calloused hands and see a joke.
"Ada," Nikolai tried again. His voice dropped to that low, velvety register that usually made my knees weak. "Please come out. You are being dramatic."
"I am being practical! If I go then I will cause an incident. I will trip over a Duke. I will use the wrong title. I will accidentally insult a Governor by telling him his hat looks like a hubcap. I am saving you from public humiliation."
"I don't care about humiliation," Nikolai argued. "I care about you standing next to me."
"You say that now," I muttered. "Wait until I set a tablecloth on fire."
"Ada..."
"I’m not coming out! You will have to drag me!"
Silence. Then came the click of heels. Not the heavy thud of boots or the tap of dress shoes. Sensible, regal heels.
Cecilia.
My best friend stopped right next to the truck. I could see the hem of her travel dress. It was a sensible navy blue number that made her look like a benevolent world leader.
"Ada," she said. Her voice was calm.
"Don't start, CeeCee," I warned her from the dark. "I know that tone. That is the 'I believe in you' tone. It won't work. I have encased my heart in steel."
"You aren't scared of the Queen," Cecilia said casually. "You're scared you aren't good enough."
I froze.
"You think you are going to walk into the Valorian Court and they will see a mechanic in a dress," Cecilia continued. She crouched down so she could see me properly. Her blue eyes were fierce. "You think they will look at you and see a fraud."
"Because I am a fraud, Cee!" I shouted. The panic finally bubbled over. I kicked off against the tire and shot out from under the truck on the creeper board like a mechanic-missile.
I stopped in the middle of the garage and glared up at them. I knew I looked like a disaster. My hair was tied back with a zip-tie. I had grease on my chin. My coveralls were three sizes too big.
"Look at me!" I gestured wildly to myself. "This is it! This is the package! You can put me in silk and cover me in diamonds, but underneath it all I am just Ada from the garage. And that Court? They are going to eat me alive."
Nikolai stepped forward. He looked hurt. Cecilia held up a hand to stop him.
She looked at me. Really looked at me.
"Do you remember the dining hall?" she asked.
I blinked and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "The what?"
"The dining hall," Cecilia repeated. "Three months ago. The Red Crows broke in. Twenty of them. Angry. Screaming. Holding buckets of paint."
I flinched. "I remember."
"I was there," Cecilia said softly. "I was in the crowd. I was terrified, Ada. I wanted to run. I think Nikolai wanted to punch them. The Dean was hiding under a table."
She took a step closer.
"But you didn't run. You stood there. You were wearing my dress, my face, and my crown. You took a bucket of red paint to the face and you didn't even blink. You looked those rebels in the eye and you made them listen. You showed more leadership in those five minutes than any Governor in that fancy court has shown in a lifetime."
I looked down at my boots. "I was just... improvised. I was mad."
"You were a Queen," Cecilia said firmly. "You are born for this, Ada. Not because you know which fork to use. But because when things get broken, you don't throw them away. You fix them. Whether it’s an engine, a treaty, or a kingdom."
She reached into her oversized designer purse.
"I knew you would panic," Cecilia said. A small smile played on her lips. "So I brought you something."
She pulled out a velvet-wrapped bundle. It looked heavy.
"Is it a flask?" I asked hopefully.
"Better."
She unwrapped it.
It was a wrench. But not just any wrench. It was my wrench. The 12-inch, drop-forged steel beauty. The one I had tried to pack on the very first day of the switch, when Cecilia told me the Academy had a maintenance staff.
Cecilia had tied a royal blue ribbon around the handle.
"Your scepter, Your Highness," Cecilia said. She presented it to me with two hands like a sword.
Nikolai groaned loudly and threw his head back. "Oh God. No. Not the wrench. Please, Cecilia. Do not arm her. We are going to a Peace Summit and not a gladiator arena."
"It’s not a weapon," Cecilia corrected him. "It’s a grounding tool."
She pressed the cold steel into my grease-stained hand.
"If Queen Elena intimidates you," Cecilia whispered, "just hold onto this. Remember that you can take apart a V8 engine blindfolded. A Queen is just a woman with a fancy hat. If she gives you trouble... just imagine taking her apart."
"Metaphorically!" Nikolai yelped. "Please, metaphorically!"
I gripped the wrench. It was heavy. Solid. Familiar. The balance was perfect.
I took a deep breath. The smell of gasoline didn't feel like a hiding place anymore. It felt like a launching pad.
"Okay," I whispered. I gave the wrench a little test swing. Whoosh. "Okay."
I looked at Nikolai. He looked like he was regretting every life choice that led to dating a woman who slept with a socket set. But he also looked hopeful.
"If your mother makes a comment about my hands," I warned him while pointing the wrench at his chest, "I am going to offer to adjust her suspension. She looks stiff in the photos."
Nikolai grinned. It was a genuine, blinding smile that melted my insides just a little bit. "I would pay good money to see that."
"Fine," I sighed. I stood up and dusted off my knees. "I’ll go. But I’m keeping the zip-tie in my hair until we hit the border."
"Deal," Nikolai said quickly.
I turned to the corner where Jax was still crunching chips. He was watching the drama like it was a soap opera.
"Alright, peanut gallery," I said. I pointed the wrench at him. "Show's over. My trauma is managed. Now let’s talk about yours."
Jax froze. A chip was halfway to his mouth. "I don't have trauma. I’m chill. I’m the chillest person here."
"Oh really?" I walked over to him and leaned against the tire stack. "Because while I’m off to eat tiny sandwiches in an ice fortress, you, my friend, are taking the Crown Princess of Bluethorne to... The Farm."
Nikolai perked up instantly. He sensed a shift in the target. "Oh yes! The Homecoming!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Tell me, Rebel. Have you prepared the guest room? By which I mean, did you chase the chickens out of the house?"
Jax choked. "It’s a respectable farmhouse! The chickens live outside! Mostly."
"And your mother," I added, grinning wickedly. "Mrs. Vance. You told us she hates royals. You said she has a stare that can curdle milk at fifty paces. You said she once made a tax collector cry just by sighing."
"She hates the monarchy," Nikolai added helpfully. "It is her primary personality trait. Cecilia is going to walk in there wearing cashmere. It will be like throwing a sheep into a wolf den."
Jax looked pale. He glanced at Cecilia. She was standing there clutching her purse and looking suddenly very small.
"I can handle my Ma," Jax said. His voice cracked on the word 'Ma'.
"Can you?" I pressed. "Because I saw Cecilia’s luggage. She packed cashmere, Jax. Four trunks of it. Do you know what happens to cashmere in a grain silo? It explodes. It’s a scientific fact."
"I told her that!" Jax threw his hands up and looked exasperated. "I told her to pack denim! She bought a hat! A sun hat! If she wears that to the feed store they are going to think she’s an alien!"
"I just want to make a good impression!" Cecilia protested. She crossed her arms. "I am going to be charming. I am going to help out. I am going to bake a pie."
Silence descended on the garage.
I stared at her. Nikolai stared at her. Jax buried his face in his hands and groaned.
"You?" I asked. "Bake?"
"I watched a video!" Cecilia insisted. "It looked very straightforward. Flour. Water. Heat. Pie."
"Oh sweetie," I said, shaking my head. "We are all going to die. I am going to start an international war with a wrench and you are going to burn down the Vance family homestead."
"It sounds like a perfect summer," Nikolai beamed. He checked his platinum watch. "But alas, we must go. The jet awaits. And unlike Ada’s truck, it actually starts without percussive maintenance."
"Hey!" I swatted him with the wrench. "Don't insult the truck. She’s sensitive."
I grabbed my bag. I hesitated for a second and looked at the propane torch I had tried to pack earlier. I decided against it. I pocketed the wrench instead.
I walked over to Cecilia. We stood there for a second. The two of us. We had started this whole mess by swapping lives because we thought the grass was greener. Now we knew the grass was actually just full of landmines on both sides.
"Code Red," I whispered. I pulled her into a hug. "If it gets too bad. If the farmers break out the pitchforks."
"Code Red," Cecilia promised. She squeezed me back hard. "And if the Queen tries to make you embroider a pillow."
"I have the wrench," I reminded her. "I'll be fine."
We pulled apart.
"Alright team," I announced. I clapped my grease-stained hands. "Let's go ruin some diplomatic relations."
"And traumatize some parents," Jax added gloomily. He picked up Cecilia’s mountain of luggage.
"To the chaos!" Nikolai cheered. He offered me his arm. He didn't even flinch at the grease on my sleeve.
"To the chaos," I agreed. I took it.
We walked out of the garage and into the blinding afternoon sun. For a moment it felt like the old days. Just four kids against the world.
We had no idea the world was about to hit back.
