“I promise, Papa,” I answer, giving him one more hug before walking back over the fireplace hearth to return to my side of the table.

My father stands and walks over to his massive mahogany desk. He slides open one of the upper drawers and pulls out a sheet of paper. Returning to his chair opposite me, he slides over the sheet.

“This is the list of schools Richard and his team identified where they could pull this operation off from both a safety and a diplomatic standpoint. You only have a couple of days to decide; they’ll need to begin making the necessary arrangements immediately.”

I glance over the paper quickly, which lists the names of each school and their respective locations. Most of them are on the outskirts of larger European cities, two are in remote locations, and three are in the United States. Marcedenia’s location in southern Europe and relatively small size means it is often considered to be insignificant in comparison to its larger neighboring counties, but I’m still surprised by some of the options. Once again, it’s more than I’d dared to imagine.

My thoughts must show on my face, because my father adds. “Apparently nine in ten of the citizens of each of those countries can’t identify Marcedenia on a map, much less name any members of the royal family. If it didn’t allow you to have this opportunity, I’d be deeply offended.”

I can’t help but laugh. We finish our game, and after thanking my father again and wishing him good night, I leave his study and rush back to my room, eager to begin researching the list of universities.

The first school I search is one I’ve never heard of. I quickly find the university’s website, which displays a series of towering stone buildings standing amidst a barren landscape blanketed with a layer of untouched snow. I pull up the school’s location on the map and see that it is nearly a hundred miles from the nearest town.

Pass.

I move on to the next school on the list. This one is closest to Marcedenia geographically, and the landscape is familiar. The campus is an eclectic mix of open-air villas and terra cotta covered buildings surrounded with cypress trees.

Possibly.

The third school I look up is the first one located in the United States. I find the university’s site quickly, but the page doesn’t load immediately. I drum my fingers against the glass surface of my desk as I wait.

Finally, the screen begins to load. The background of the website showcases a field of lush green grass interrupted by bright white lines. Seats filled with cheering students surround it. As soon as it finishes loading, the photo begins to disappear, small sections of it flipping around until the entire image has been replaced by a new one.

Now, I’m staring at another broad expanse of grass, this time divided into sections by winding paved paths dotted with small figures and surrounded by an array of stately brick buildings, which stand in stark contrast against the bright blue sky. I stare at the idyllic photo for a moment, trying to picture myself there. The background photos continue changing, showing a large lecture hall next, followed by a small, sterile room where two girls stand amidst a mountain of plastic bins and bags.