The Queen's Game

1. A Rocky Landing

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Chamantad Airport in Cincamarre. Please make sure that your seat belts are securely fastened, your tray tables are stowed . . . "

Her Royal Highness Saturnina Inez Mercado wanted to throw up in her seat as the in-flight announcement for their impending landing was made. True to the captain's warning of turbulence, the small plane suddenly dipped down a few feet, and Nina's stomach just couldn't seem to catch up.

She groaned and pressed her head deeper into the back of her seat. The plane's carefully controlled atmosphere was wreaking havoc on her hair, which had now become a thick, oily mess on her head. She ran her hands over her face, pressing the heels of her palms against her closed eyes in an attempt to stem the tide of her oncoming headache.

"Your Highness, are . . . you alright?" A fellow passenger asked tentatively, unsure if they should even be talking to the crown princess. It served as a sobering reminder to Nina that this was a commercial flight, and upchucking the local snack served onboard would leave nothing but a bad impression. God knows she'd made enough bad impressions to last her a lifetime already.

"Fine, thank you." She managed a weak smile with gritted teeth as she smoothed her hands through her short, black hair. She quickly ran her hands over her small, heart-shaped face, her fingertips just resting on the pronounced apples of her cheeks. Was it just her imagination, or was the plane doing actual loop-de-loops?

Unfortunately, Nina had only herself to blame for this potential disaster scenario. Although the royal household's secretary was all too aware of her airsickness and arranged for her to fly the redeye from Seoul so she could sleep, she was the one who forgot to pack her Dramamine and insisted on taking two widely-spaced, separate flights instead of a long haul flight straight home.

She also knew that ultimately, the Seoul incident was her fault. Not that she thought she'd done anything wrong, god no. A woman had every prerogative to go out, have a few drinks, and dance with a few guys who happened to be huge pop stars. What Korean paparazzi chose to do with that information was not Nina's problem.

Her Royal Highness Princess Saturnina of Cincamarre, trashes a restaurant with socialite friend Cora Justa Dumagat! made the headlines of HotGoss seconds after she'd left her hotel, which meant it was in the desk of Delia Mercado, her controller and aunt, Delia an hour later. The articles made sure to point out that the relatively unknown royal was only in Seoul on her way home to Cincamarre for her own father's funeral. Nina was very adamant that there was no point in issuing a statement over this, so she flew out of Incheon over a rain of camera flashes, reporters, and quite a few fans as she fled to the safety of the plane. Then from Manila, it was an hour and a half flight to the deep blue shores of Cincamarre, her father's kingdom.

Her kingdom now, technically.

"I'm sorry to hear about your father," the passenger, a woman of about fifty years old, said sadly. "I remember meeting him in a parade when I was younger. He was so handsome, and later on a very good king."

The words hit Nina squarely in the chest, and she felt the edges of the gaping hole in her heart contract. She took a sharp inhale of breath, and struggled to keep the smile on her face kind. She reminded herself to keep her smile steady, to be grateful and sweet, trying to remember the exact sound of Tita Delia's voice whenever she made a public appearance as a young girl. Keep your head straight, your smile small and your wave gentle, she said. We go on.

We go on no matter how much her heart was breaking.

"I cried when he and your Mama got married too," the passenger continued, oblivious to the princess' inner turmoil. "She was so beautiful that day, with her gorgeous hair. You look a lot like your mother, you know. The eyes too, very sharp and sort of serious."