The lunch was held at the Imperial Hotel, the crown jewel of New Athens. An estate of the Duke himself, the hotel served as a gilded sanctuary for celebrities and visiting royals.
To match the setting, Trevor and Alisa had meticulously dressed for the occasion. Trevor opted for a steel-blue suit paired with a silk tie that shimmered in a teal-to-green gradient, while Alisa looked striking in a deep burgundy velvet dress. Despite their polished appearance, Trevor felt a gnawing doubt about bringing her. The two women had been at odds since high school. Their relationship was a toxic cocktail of class friction and academic rivalry, usually resulting in sharp-tongued remarks behind each other’s backs.
The most difficult hurdle, however, was justifying the limousine Bella had sent for them. He told Alisa that Bella was simply using their past connection to network with his father and Lady News to promote her jewelry line. Alisa had listened with a polite, fixed smile, but Trevor knew her. She didn’t buy a word of it.
As they stepped into the marble-clad lobby, a young woman in a tailored forest-green cashmere dress glided toward them. “Mr. Edson, Ms. Fisher,” she said, her smile practiced and pleasant. “I am Diana, Lady Bella’s lady-in-waiting. If you would please follow me.”
The title stopped Trevor in his tracks. He’d never seen her before, and the fact that Bella now required a “lady-in-waiting” confirmed his deepest suspicions. She was marrying into a reigning house.
Diana led them into a private elevator that ascended smoothly toward the penthouse. When the doors slid open, they stepped into a vast, opulent suite designed in the Rococo style, a fever dream of gilded moldings and crimson carpets. Panoramic windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a breathtaking view of the New Athens skyline and the Statue of Athena Parthenos. From this height, the bronze goddess looked remarkably small, a mere figurine against the sprawling city.
Two guards in crisp, midnight-blue uniforms stood like statues before a set of double doors. As they approached, one of them moved with silent precision to open the way. Passing through the threshold, Trevor’s nose caught a sharp, familiar trail of oud and musk. Perhaps one of the guards had a romantic encounter with a Kemet woman, he thought as he entered the inner room.
The inner room was small but exquisite, soaked in the honeyed sunlight that poured through its panoramic windows. The light caught the dust motes dancing over oil paintings and gilded antiques, lending the entire space a resplendent, museum-like hush. At the center stood a mahogany table, flanked by four armchairs upholstered in deep crimson velvet. It was perfectly staged with fine porcelain, silver tea service, and a delicate spread of hors d’oeuvres. But the centerpiece was the young man sprawled in one of the chairs. He wore a loud, crimson varsity jacket over a camel cashmere sweater and light-blue jeans with aggressively ripped knees. Only his dark brown Chelsea boots, polished to a mirror-like sheen, seemed to bridge the gap between his streetwear and the room’s ancient luxury.
“What’s up, bro?” That was his opening line—a jarring piece of Fairylander slang filtered through a thick, aristocratic German accent. He stood up and walked toward them with an easy confidence. Looking at his trendy outfit and relaxed demeanor, Trevor wondered for a moment if he was some kind of celebrity or pop star.
“Ludwig, that is hardly a proper greeting,” Bella said, emerging from the adjoining room. She was a vision in shades of forest and mint silk, her jewelry catching the midday sun.
“I’m testing the Dressrious ‘Athleisure’ look,” Ludwig smirked, standing to greet them. “Trying to blend in with the locals.”
“He even bought a silly New Athens baseball cap at the airport,” Bella whispered conspiratorially, breaking the ice. “Trevor, Alisa… let me introduce my fiancé, Ludwig, Prince of Baiern. Ludwig, these are my dearest friends from Atalanta School.”
“Your Highness,” Trevor said, extending his hand. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of uncertainty, wondering if he was supposed to bow or perhaps even kiss the Prince’s hand. Thankfully, Ludwig spared him the embarrassment by offering a firm, egalitarian handshake. The Prince then turned his attention to Alisa, his smile widening. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said, bowing his head slightly as he took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Alisa, I must say, I’m surprised to find the two of you together,” Bella remarked, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Please, take a seat. We have so much to catch up on.”
They spent a few moments trading stories. Trevor and Alisa recounted their reunion at Mateo and Fiona’s wedding after-party, while Bella shared the tale of her own royal encounter. “We were introduced by my equestrian instructor, Wilhelm,” Bella said, her eyes softening with a genuine, sugary warmth. “He’s Ludwig’s cousin. After a few sunrise rides and a few too many polo matches, we realized it was more than just a shared love for horses.”
“I was actually worried you were becoming a bit too fond of Wilhelm back then,” Ludwig teased. He looked at her with an intensity that made it clear to everyone in the room that he was utterly captivated by her.
“Please,” Bella smirked, the sharp businesswoman returning for a brief second. “He’s a notorious playboy, and I only needed his social circle to launch my new jewelry line. You were the only one I was actually looking at.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the servers. They moved with ghost-like efficiency, laying out a sumptuous spread that bridged the gap between the Old World and the New. The table was soon laden with grilled salmon, savory beef rouladen, and crispy wiener schnitzel. There were potato dumplings infused with the earthy aroma of truffles, chilled aloe vera salads, and steamed clams. For dessert, they had prepared mango shrimp, pistachio ice cream, and bienenstich—the traditional bee sting cake—delicately garnished with crystallized rose petals.
As the meal progressed, the three former classmates traded updates on the teachers and students they once knew. However, the conversation felt thin; their high school years had been defined more by rivalry than by shared memories. Ludwig, sensing a gap in the narrative, tried to pivot the conversation toward the details of Trevor and Bella’s past romance. Bella, ever the diplomat, expertly parried the question and steered the topic toward a safer, more prestigious subject: the Queen.
“To be honest, he actually spent more time with Regina than he ever did with me,” Bella noted playfully between spoonfuls of pistachio ice cream. She gave Trevor a conspiratorial wink before turning back to her fiancé. “But we’ve all grown up since then. Let’s not embarrass him with old stories.”
“Speaking of the Queen,” Ludwig sighed, swirling his wine. “Her reputation is no better in the Deutsch Kingdoms. My father is forcing me to attend the gala she’s hosting at the White Palace in two days. A ‘polite’ appearance is mandatory, apparently.”
“It sounds like you’re on a whirlwind tour,” Trevor remarked, setting down his fork after finishing a piece of the mango shrimp. “How long are the two of you staying in the Fairylands this time?”
“A month, perhaps,” Bella answered, leaning back slightly. “We plan to spend most of that in Orange County, soaking up the warmth of the South.”
“We would certainly prefer to stay longer in New Athens,” Ludwig added, his expression suddenly sober. “If it weren’t for the looming threat of the attacks.”
“The attacks?” Trevor blurted out, the word hitting the table like a lead weight. He was momentarily stunned that they were so well-informed. On second thought, it was obvious: as the guests of honor for the Cheval Blanc Soirée, they were the most visible targets on the board.
“My security detail was quite explicit before we departed,” Ludwig explained, his voice lowering. “They warned us that an incident was imminent and that we were likely at the top of the list.”
“Does your detail have a lead on the group responsible?” Trevor pressed.
“Not exactly,” Ludwig said, his tone shifting from casual to calculated. “I believe your FIA is still piecing the puzzle together, but according to the BND, our intelligence back home, these cells are funded by a radical Persian cult. They have deep ties to the current regime, the same faction responsible for the recent atrocities against their own people and a string of proxy wars across Mesopotamia and the Levant.”
He paused to take a bite of his bienenstich, casually gesturing with his right hand. A heavy gold ring sat on his index finger, embossed with a silver hammer that caught the light. It was a stark, masculine contrast to the diamond engagement ring on his left hand. Trevor stared at the symbol, certain it wasn’t mere jewelry; it looked like a seal of rank, or perhaps membership in a secret society.
“Don’t look so worried,” Bella said with a breezy, optimistic smile. “We don’t plan on lingering at the Soirée anyway. An hour for appearances, and then we’re making our exit. We have a much more interesting party to get to afterward.”
“I’m almost jealous,” Trevor remarked, taking a slow sip of his wine to mask his mounting curiosity.
“It’s a friend’s celebration. His father just gifted him a yacht club,” Ludwig explained. “You’re more than welcome to come. It’s over at the bank, near the World Trade Center.”
Trevor turned to Alisa, his pulse quickening with anticipation. “What do you think? Up for a late night?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule, but if I can get away from work on time, I’m in,” Alisa replied. Her tone lacked the spark of anticipation in Trevor’s voice.
“Perfect!” Bella exclaimed, her enthusiasm brightening the room. “We can keep the reunion going there. By that time of night, we can forget all about terrorist threats and world wars.”