The Princess Trap (11 page)

Her hands were on his shoulders, pulling him toward her, and he couldn’t help but move closer. Then she put her hand behind his head, and her face was right up against his, forcing her lips onto his mouth.

No, no
, thought Jonas.
I don’t want to do this! I just don’t understand girls!
But then he stopped thinking altogether. His whole head was swimming, and Ylva’s lips were on his and wouldn’t let go, and his mouth opened without him even realizing it.

No!
He had to free himself — from her hands, from her lips — and he didn’t want this feeling, not with Ylva.
Oh God …

“Ylva!” he managed to say. He found it hard to breathe. “Ylva, please! I …” He tried to catch his breath. “Please. Ylva. I … I don’t want to do this.”

Now was the time to tell her that he was interested in someone else. But again she was looking so small and defenseless, almost desperate, and how could he make her even more unhappy? “I’m sorry, Ylva. I … I just don’t feel that way about you.”

Jenna had watched Jonas disappear across the lawn.
I’m almost positive he likes me
, she thought,
but why did he run off?
If only that horrible Petterson hadn’t chosen that precise moment to arrive!
Malena’s not the only girl in the world
, Jonas had said, and he’d blushed when he said it, hadn’t he?

She went across to the buffet table. She wanted to talk to Malena. Though could she really say, “Hey, Malena, I saw you before in the summerhouse, you and Perry. Sorry, didn’t mean to spy. But anyway, I saw you, and I just wanted to ask …”

Could you ask another girl how to do that kind of thing … who made the first move, said the first word …?

Of course you can
, thought Jenna.
Why not?
And Malena was her cousin. Jenna might not do everything exactly the same way she had — it might all be totally different between her and Jonas — but it still could be useful to know how Malena and Perry had worked up the courage.
And tomorrow at the latest, when Jonas and I meet, or maybe in the morning when I go for my …

No! It should be today. The two of them were simply too shy. She’d seen it over and over again in the movies: boy and girl dithering away and nobody making the first move.

She took a deep breath, then set off determinedly in the direction Jonas had taken. She suddenly knew that she would never forgive herself if she let him go like that. She was Princess Jenna of Scandia, and today she would be successful at whatever she did.

T
he summerhouse loomed
up behind the clump of trees. Jenna knew she would find Jonas there. She had told him about Perry and Malena, so that it would be the first place he’d look, logically.

Carefully she lifted up the branch that blocked the nearest window. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud, she was sure Jonas would hear it. But she couldn’t flake out again; she was determined to do it: At last she would tell him how she felt. She took a deep breath, then leaned forward to look inside.

On the bench opposite sat Jonas, just as she had guessed. But he was not alone. Ylva!

Malena’s not the only girl in the world …
The words came back to haunt her. How could she ever have thought he meant her?

Jonas’s head was facing away, twisted at a strange angle. Between him and Ylva was far too large a gap, and yet … they were holding each other. They were …

No!
thought Jenna.
Not Ylva!

She turned away. She didn’t want to look into Ylva’s eyes, which were staring at her, mocking, hard, triumphant, over Jonas’s tousled hair. Jenna began to run. Behind her she could still hear Jonas’s voice: “Please,” he said. “Please, Ylva!” And she ran and ran and ran, and it was as if she had never in all her life known how deep and dark and terrible despair could be.

T
he laundry van traveled
through the dusk.
How much longer?
thought Perry. They had strapped the bins to the inside of the van with belts so that their little wheels wouldn’t set them rolling around the floor, but they kept bumping against each other all the same as the van drove along the uneven roads, and their metal frames clashed and clanged.

Perry was well hidden. No one had noticed him. The gigantic tablecloth that covered him still smelled a little of detergent, with one large, oily stain that stank of fish. After what he estimated was a few miles, he ventured to take the cloth off his head. Here in the back of the van, he figured no one could possibly see him, and it ended up being so dark that he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.

When they got to the laundromat, he could slip away into the night. The plan was simple but genius, he told himself.

The van rounded a sharp bend, pressing Perry hard up against the frame of the bin, and finally came to a halt. He pulled the tablecloth over his head again and tensed his muscles in preparation.

Someone opened the rear door of the van. The halogen lights that illuminated the laundromat’s parking lot threw a faint orange glow into the back. Perry peeked out to see two men untying the bins nearest to the door and pushing them onto the lift. Then came the soft hum of the machinery as they were hoisted down.

“We’ll just unload them tonight,” said a tired voice. “You push the bins, and I’ll hold the door.”

Perry could hear their footsteps, and the jarring scrape of the metal wheels over a stone surface. It had to be now. This was the best chance he’d get.

Wire clanged against wire as he threw off the cloth and carefully climbed out. He crept quickly to the open door and jumped to the ground.

The air smelled of evening. Old brick buildings lined three sides of the cobbled square, with the fourth side open to the street. Perry kept crouched close to the ground and ran as fast as he could, keeping to the shadows. The two men had disappeared into one of the buildings, and he could hear them pushing the bins, exchanging a few words and laughing.

Almost!
thought Perry. And then he saw the moped.

It was standing up against the brick wall, right beside the exit onto the road, and in the light of the streetlamps it glowed a deep red. Although it was an old model, it was polished as shiny as new. It probably belonged to one of the two men.

It’s stealing
, thought Perry as he looked to see if the moped was locked. But he had no trouble softly pushing it over the rough stones. He didn’t start the motor.
It’s stealing, but how stupid are people, leaving their keys in the ignition!

Then he saw the high iron gate. The men must have opened it before driving the van into the yard. No wonder the owner of the moped would have assumed it would be safe inside.

I’ll send them some money, I swear. As soon as I can get into my account.

He began to run, pulling the heavy moped along beside him. He wouldn’t start the motor until he was good and far away from the laundromat. If the men heard it and came after him in the van, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

The narrow road stretched out in darkness beneath an overcast sky. To the right he could see the last lights of a little town. To the left, the road disappeared into a forest. That was the direction Perry pushed the moped.

The men must have finished unloading the bins by now. It was time. He straddled the moped and turned the key. It shot forward beneath him and he only just managed to keep his balance — he’d never ridden a moped before. He could feel the wind blowing through his hair, and he laughed.

Free!
he thought.
I’m free! You can forget about your military academy! You’ll never lock me up in there. Never!

The moped glided into the forest, and Perry slowed down. After just a few feet, he switched off the lights and pushed it off the road into the undergrowth. Then he waited.

It was almost half an hour before the laundry van passed him at breakneck speed. The men must have searched all over the square.

He listened, then pushed the moped back out of the undergrowth. The night belonged to him now — there was no one else on the road. He knew where he would go. His head and heart felt light, and he was way too happy to be tired.

Before the sun sank down behind the treetops, the first clouds began to gather, gray and heavy, but still so few and far between that, although the guests occasionally glanced up at the sky, no one was particularly worried.

“A wonderful party, as usual, General,” said an elderly lady. “Just like the old days. One might almost have thought our Scandia had never changed.”

Von Thunberg bowed. “Delighted that you enjoyed it, Baroness,” he said.

He was standing with his wife at the base of the broad steps, shaking the hands of everyone leaving the party. Circling the garden, charming Chinese lanterns glowed in the dusk, and yellowish-white splashes of the lights embedded in the foliage created an almost eerie atmosphere. The party was over — this was traditionally how it came to an end. As soon as darkness crept between the trees, the guests would climb into their town cars and limousines and drive home to their own nearby estates. Hardly any would make the long journey back to the city of Holmburg tonight.

“Good night, Countess, Count!” said von Thunberg. “We’ll meet again next summer.”

“Before that, I hope,” said the countess with a radiant smile. “Good night, General.”

Across the great lawn, the catering staff was now beginning to stack the chairs and take down the tables. Von Thunberg’s brow furrowed, and his wife’s face twisted into an angry scowl. Next year they would hire a different company. The staff should have waited until the last guest had departed before they began dismantling the place.

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. von Thunberg said to an old lady with a walking stick, who was watching the activity with raised eyebrows. “I’ve sent someone to put a stop to it at once. Such behavior, I fear, Your Ladyship, is just one more consequence of the …” She hesitated a moment before spitting out the word. “… the
democratization
of our country! These days, allowing the staff to get to bed on time seems to be reason enough to end a party.”

“I can only assume it’s a company that hasn’t taught its people good manners, dear Mrs. von Thunberg!” said the bent little man accompanying the old lady. His hand was gently supporting his companion’s elbow. “Little
parvenus
who’ve grown up in the slums and don’t know the first thing about society’s rules. You’ll find them everywhere. All the same, it’s been a wonderful party.”

Petterson pushed his way toward the front, past the straggly queue of people still chatting as they stood at the foot of the steps. He waited impatiently until the elderly couple had taken their leave, and then he went straight up to von Thunberg.

“Thunberg, please forgive me,” he said quietly, “but I can’t find my son, and I’m beginning to get worried. May I send my people to search your house? He’s definitely not on the grounds.”

“Of course,” said von Thunberg. “Though I can’t imagine …”

“Jenna’s also disappeared!” said the princess, suddenly standing beside Petterson. “I can’t find her anywhere. I didn’t think too much of it, but now that you say Perry’s gone missing …”

“Your people are welcome to search the house for as long as you like,” said von Thunberg, smiling past them at the next guest. “Del Halberstrum! We never even had a chance to raise a toast, old chap!”

Petterson and Margareta stepped aside.

“You don’t think the two of them …?” the princess began. “But they hardly know each other!”

“It’s a strange coincidence all the same,” said Petterson. He went over to a man in a black suit, who was standing patiently at the edge of the gravel driveway. “Viktor, take three men and search the house. But be discreet. Don’t draw any attention to yourselves.”

The man in the suit nodded and disappeared.

“Goodness, might they have been abducted?” asked Margareta. Her face suddenly clouded over with concern. “Peter? How could that possibly have happened here at the party, with such tight security?”

Petterson shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe my men will find them in the house,” he said. He didn’t look too confident.

Jenna ran.

She had taken off her sandals and was carrying them by their laces as she ran and ran, faster and faster across the grounds. She ran so fast that her violent heartbeat drowned out her thoughts and, more important, her feelings —
faster, faster!
She could hear her own breathing, her own heartbeat, as if they belonged to a stranger, but it didn’t help.

The grounds of the estate were huge, even larger than the school campus — she hadn’t realized it before. The landscape had grown wilder now, up- and downhill, with swampy groves of alders in the dips and pine trees higher up; in between were small ponds and meadows full of summer flowers. But Jenna didn’t notice any of it.

Run, just run.
Beneath her feet she felt grass and moss and pebbles and pine needles, rocks and hard, dry dirt. She didn’t even feel all the cuts she was getting on the soles of her bare feet. She felt nothing but despair.

Jonas.

She had never known that sadness could be so huge it could fill the whole world right to the furthest corner, leaving no room for anything else.

Tears flooded her face. Her makeup was a mess of smudges, her mascara streaming in charcoal rivulets down her cheeks. She could not stop crying.

Jonas and Ylva.

She didn’t want to stop. She didn’t care. Whatever happened, happened. She didn’t want to do anything except sink into this sadness and never emerge again into the endless sequence of days, weeks, months that would go on as normal, as though her life had not just been shattered.

I’m just lovesick
, thought Jenna, astonished that she was beginning to think again after all as her feet raced along the narrow paths and her heart hammered.
Lovesick.
What a silly word for such a terrible, overwhelming pain.

Hadn’t she heard about it, read about it in magazines, a million times before?
Lovesick, heartsick, heartbroken. The sickness passes
— her feet raced —
everyone goes through it. After a few days, you’ll wonder what on earth you ever got so upset about.

But no, Jenna knew it was different for her. She’d never get over this despair that blotted out everything else, till life itself seemed meaningless.

The sun disappeared behind the clouds. Her feet slowed down. The last year had been so difficult, and the only thing that got her through had been her longing for Jonas — though she had never thought he’d feel the same.

And then she had seen Malena and Perry in the summerhouse, and suddenly the hopelessness had fallen away like a chain that could be broken through a single weak link. And then Jonas had said,
“Malena’s not the only girl in the world,”
and her heart had grown wings.

How could she have been so stupid?

Jenna bent over and rested her hands on her knees. To her surprise, she realized that the tears had stopped running down her cheeks. She was breathing hard and fast.

Not just lovesickness
, she thought, as gradually her breathing slowed down. A gentle twilight began to envelop the grounds — the long, late dusk of summer. It must be later than she realized. She’d been running for a long time.

Not just lovesickness, but shame.
Stupid her! How could she have thought even for a second that Jonas meant her — Jenna, small and dark and chubby — when there were so many other girls who were more beautiful, more self-assured, taller and slimmer and fairer? Jenna, who never did anything right, who was mocked in the newspapers on a daily basis. Jonas would never want her. Not when there were girls like Ylva to choose from.

But not Ylva!
thought Jenna, her stomach in knots.
Why Ylva?
She straightened up and walked on, very slowly now. Since the clouds had gathered, she could feel the coolness of the evening, and the little hairs on her arms stood on end.