I grab my computer and pull up Lincoln’s website. Sure enough, the first image displayed in the background is of a field exactly like the one described in the binder.

A search of American football causes millions of results to come up, discussing professional teams, games, statistics, and players. The sheer volume is overwhelming. I click through a few of the first sites, but they are all articles that use nonsensical words.

I close my computer and move on to the next section in the binder.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next few weeks pass rapidly. The day I’m set to depart for Glendale Cottage, a royal residence located closer to the coast, arrives before I know it.

Neither of my parents are traveling with me, so I stand and wait for them in the foyer as my security team loads bag after bag into the trunk of a black SUV. My mother and her team found a Marcedenian stylist who attended fashion school in New York to consult with on my wardrobe. Their lengthy conversations mean an array of new sweaters, jackets, and boots unnecessary in Marcedenia’s temperate climate have been added to bags already filled with my substantial wardrobe.

The last of my suitcases are being loaded into the back of the car when my mother appears. She looks as poised and elegant as always, but I notice her hand is shaking as she straightens the lapels of the linen blazer she’s wearing over a slim sheath dress.

“You’re sure you have everything, Vivienne?” she asks, glancing around the now empty entryway.

“I’m certain,” I reply. “If anything, I overpacked.”

A ghost of a smile appears. “Well, this is it, I suppose.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around me. I rest my chin on the tailored shoulder of her blazer. We stand like that for a long moment.

After eighteen years of keeping me contained within the fortress of the palace under heavy guard, the prospect of sending me to another country and hoping no one recognizes me must seem like a terrifying prospect.

“I’ll be fine, Mother,” I tell her. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

She drops her arms. I raise my head and step away, giving her what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“Your bags are all loaded?” my father asks, appearing in the soaring entryway to the foyer and glancing around. “I thought it would take them all day to figure out how to fit that massive pile in the car.”

I scoff at his dramatics. “They got them all.”

My father walks over to where my mother and I are standing. My mother is wearing a forlorn expression, but it disappears when he reaches us and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Evelyn, we had to kick her out of the nest sometime.”

My mother smiles slightly in response, and my father steps forward to give me a tight hug.

“Be safe, be smart, and have fun,” are his parting words to me. His tone is light, but I see my mother’s worry reflected in the blue eyes I inherited.