Besides, it’s not like I suffer from airsickness or anything. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t know because I’ve never taken the plane before. And I mean, sure, I’m not exactly comfortable with the prospect of thirty thousand feet separating me from the safety of the ground, but I’m not about to faint either.

By rights, I should be excited. This is my first flight ever and I didn’t even have to pay for my ticket. Well, that’s no surprise: I couldn’t have afforded a plane ticket with my meagre salary, which, on second thought, I don’t even have anymore.

I’m feeling panicky, though. The plane is taking off, speeding up, tipping up. Since nobody else is panicking, I’m assuming everything is in order. What really upsets me, actually, is the realisation that I can’t ask to be let off anymore. No going back, Zellie, my conscience is saying.

I shift in my seat and earn myself a glance from Link Forester, who’s clearly more relaxed than me. He closes his eyes as we ascend, smirking mildly to himself. He’s clearly accustomed to first class flights. He probably thinks I’m excited, which I should be. I mean, what girl wouldn’t be excited? One day, you’re living off a desperately low waitress’ wage, trying to get into the Laundromat to clean your underwear and saving up for flip-flops from the Outlet, and the next you’re being swept off to the big city by a hot blond business man who’s on a mission to make you a queen…

It’s really upsetting to become a royal without doing anything when all your life you’ve struggled to eat. Besides, what kind of country destroys its own democracy to install a monarchy? Why did I even vote for something that stupid? I’m so dumb.

Link has taken out his palm pilot. I think the machine is grafted to him with invisible thread. I glance his way and wonder if a palm counts as one of those electronic devices they’re telling us about in the safety video.

But Link doesn’t turn it on. He just replaces its batteries. I get a quick look at his nimble hands. They’re long, large, a bit rough looking, but still agile. I also briefly wonder if they’re the dry warm kind or the slimy cold kind. Link doesn’t seem the slimy nervous type, though. He’s really more of the hottie persuasion, which is something else that kind of upsets me. I shouldn’t have to keep respectful distance. Guys like that ought to be shagged, not listened to.

I avoid his hotness and look out the tiny window on the side of which I’m sitting. Link got the alley seat, but he doesn’t seem to mind much. From here, I feel that he’s radiating heat. That’s good. The plane is air conditioned, and the puny blanket they handed us totally doesn’t do the trick. I wonder if I could sidle a bit closer to him.

Hm, I could definitely get excited about that.

Although Link obviously doesn’t understand that I’m getting more doubts about this than ever. How does one go from being a waitress to being a royal, anyway?

He glances my way again. In his smooth voice, he asks, “Excited?”

You know, I get this feeling like this guy might be a threat to my intimate thoughts.

“Sort of,” I say with what is and feels like a strained smile. “This is my first flight.”

“I know.” Link says this smartly, glancing at the seatbelt icon that just dinged and switched off above our heads. His tone is knowing, convivial but final, like he was just talking to me to ensure I wouldn’t be sick all over him and his very well cut Terminian suit ―Terminian suit! Hotness!

Instead of inquiring about me again, he turns his palm pilot on and begins browsing through it. I can’t see what he’s looking at since the screen is flat.

Funny. I should find him cold and unpleasant, but I can’t seem to. I guess he’s just another one of those naturally pleasant people. How annoying.

I have to wonder what else he knows about me aside from the first flight thing.

Suddenly, he chuckles, though he hasn’t looked up from his palm pilot. He says, eyes crinkling and a sexy dimple appearing in his smile, “You got kicked out of Wood Scouts because you tried to syndicate your group? At the age of twelve?”

My Din. He knows way more than the first flight thing.

“Look,” I say, “all those paramilitary trainings just can’t be right. They have to be regulated somehow, and the rights of those who make all those sailor knots have to be protected.”

“Sure, yeah. But syndicating?” He looks amused and incredulous, like he’s been told a good joke.

“Well,” I huff, piqued, “If you’re worried about a sullied reputation, don’t worry, nothing like that has happened since. As you probably already know,” I add sullenly.

Link shakes his head, still smiling incredulously. “Don’t worry yourself. If anything, that info makes good publicity. People like cute stories like that. It makes you real, y’know? Close to them.”

“But,” I say, uncomprehending, “I am real. I was a waitress, remember?”

“The waitress part is good too, but not enough. They want truth, elegance and love to lead them. Not a bratty, uneducated shopaholic who doesn’t know the difference between Château Romani and plain milkwine.”

I’ve never tried milkwine, but I’m not about to announce that I don’t know the difference myself. If he so wants to be sure, he can check his palm pilot. Then again, what if wine tasting becomes one of my duties as queen? What then?

“You’ve never ridden horseback,” Link says. “So it’s on the list.”

Link rhymes with kink. Yummy.

Wait. Um, what list? “List?”

“List of queenly things for you to learn. It’s right along etiquette, dancing and milkwine tasting,” Link explains, hardly meeting my enquiring gaze.

See? I knew he’d know about the milkwine thing. Though… “Dancing? Etiquette?” I frown. “But I know how to act in public!”

“That’s great,” Link comments absently. “You’ll find acting is often a necessary skill where diplomacy is concerned.”

Diplomacy? I stare at him dumbly, but he doesn’t seem to take notice. “Diplomacy?” I blurt out. “You expect me to be diplomatic but you won’t give me diplomacy lessons?” I’m getting indignant. “Since when is dancing more important than diplomacy?”

Link smiles. He really has a nice smile, damn him. “Knowing how to dance is a valuable tool to create positive impressions, which are in turn a key element to good diplomatic relations. But don’t worry. Diplomacy is also on the list. Trust me, you’ve got a lot to learn.” Oh, goody. “And by the time I’m done with you,” he adds, “you’ll be the queen everyone wants you to be.”

Maybe that’s why I’m so panicky, I consider, choosing to not answer him and looking out my window instead. Now we’re high above the clouds. I’ve never been above the clouds before. It’s really magical, especially with the sun setting and dyeing the sky in pinks and oranges. I can’t help but gasp. Link, having looked away from me to study the slow progress of our plane on the electronic map display, turns at the sound. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask any questions to which he already knows the answer. That’s one thing to be grateful for, I guess.

I’m still stressed. I’m still a bit under shock. The past week went by in a sort of haze.

Do I want to be queen?

Malon had been pretty emotional about the whole thing. When she’d heard about it, she’d grown so excited, it’s a wonder the whole of Lakeside didn’t hear her. Sure, she’d been sad at the idea of my leaving, but she had also warned me she would never forgive me if I passed up that opportunity. As she said, if I really hated it, I could abdicate.

How clever.

“So…” I begin once again, uncertainly, “You’re the one who’s going to teach me everything?”

Link glances my way. He says, “Everything, yes, except history, horseback riding, and something which I have cleverly dubbed as ‘country managing’.”

I’m not sure what everything else might encompass. My agenda looks full enough, frankly. “Who’ll teach me those things, then?”

He glances at his palm pilot, scrolling down. I still can’t see anything from this angle. He says, “History will be with Impa Shades.” He looks up at me with cringing sympathy, but he’s a bit joking too. “Severe woman, that. With a nasty cold shoulder attitude.”

I blink at him. “Um…”

“Horseback riding will be taught by Sheik Strike.” Link continues, looking back at his palm pilot. “He’s a quiet guy but competent, from the same firm as me. Country ruling will be taught to you by Rauru Luz, the prime minister.”

“Oh,” I say without enthusiasm, “I get a prime minister. Great.”

“Rauru’s a good man,” Link comments calmly, with a tiny note of reprimand. “It’s best that he’s your right hand man than… Well, there are more unpleasant people by far.” He’s looking a bit glum, like he’s thinking about someone in particular. I can’t help but wonder.

“Is there something I should be warned about?” I ask, trying to be subtle, except I’m not very subtle. It’s one of those things they should teach in school that they don’t.

Link is serious, now. He turns his palm pilot off and says, in a very level and controlled voice, “There are many people who could threaten your integrity at court. Once we get there, I’ll be sure to take a look at all your guest lists and warn you about problematic cases.”

“Um,” I say, having a bit of trouble understanding, “if they’re a threat to my integrity, why are they on the guest lists in the first place?”

Link smiles darkly to himself, looking at the progress map screen down his row. “Not all problems are murderers. Some annoyances and threats are sometimes people of high standing. Not inviting them would be worse than coping with them. Besides, there are some who have the right to be there and there is little you or I could do.”

Oh, joy. This royalty business looks like it’s going to be a real handful. “This really is a full-time job, isn’t it?”

Link nods with a thin smile. “Being a royal is different from any other job. You can’t number how many hours you put in. It’s not doing something. It’s being something. More often than not, you’ll be forced to act queenly twenty-four seven.”

I can’t help my despaired look. “You mean, I won’t ever have time to be myself after this?”

There’s a pause. Finally, Link says, “Well, I’ve thought about that. A lot of royals have lost screws in the past because they were drawn into the fickle world of highness. So I chose to prevent that.”

“How?” I ask, because everyone should worry about his or her mental health when it is put at risk. I’m also unable to formulate a longer sentence, since Link’s phrases alone are impressive and mind-boggling. How can a person actually put the words ‘fickle world of highness’ into a sentence and not look like they thought about it half an hour before?

Link smirks. Oh, sexy. “I thought up another course for you. It’s called ‘Basics’. And its contents have not yet been defined.”

I stare at him. He looks blank on purpose now.

“It’s a course teaching the future queen how to take the lead and make executive decisions. In other words, the allotted time of the course is spent on doing whatever the hell the lady wants. Slacking off, shopping, reading, swimming…” Having a lusty time with Link Forester, I mentally add to the list, though its really just wishful thinking. “All in all,” he continues, “it’s your weekly free time.”

I feel suddenly moved. “You put a fake lesson in just to give me slacker time?” I ask, bringing a hand flat on my chest. “That’s so nice,” I say in a breath, because I’m actually speechless and that’s the best thank-you I could come up with.

“Unfortunately for you,” Link says, “I’m not the only one in charge of your agenda, which means the basics might get cancelled for more history with Impa.” When he sees my stricken face ―even though, mind you, I haven’t even met Impa Shades yet, ― he shrugs and explains, “You have to promise to put all your efforts into becoming a good queen. We have a month to teach you everything, and it’s not going to be easy. I’ll only intervene to protect the ‘basics’ course if you pay attention the rest of the time.”

“For all that is holy,” I say, horrified, “do not remove my slacker time. I will do anything you want, but don’t remove my slacker time.”

Link raises his brow, and turns to mind his palm pilot. I notice only too late that my sentence had a double meaning, and I shut my eyes, mentally kicking myself.

“We can start now,” Link says, after a suitable moment of silence, “with a bit of an introduction to your future assistants and ministers.” He searches his palm pilot. I gaze at him critically. Eventually, he looks up at me, pauses all movement, and says, even as he ―unbelievably― shuts off his palm, “But we’re going to do this without my palm pilot, because you’ve been glaring at it since we’ve taken off.”

He smiles at me, and through my surprise of his observation skills, I manage a tiny grin. He smiles more openly now, before he turns to slip his palm pilot into his hand baggage.

“The main guy you’ll want to be sticking to, aside from me,” he says, “is Rauru Luz, your prime minister. The Royalty Party chose him, but he’s not an active member of the party itself. They chose him because he’s an old-time politician, with integrity and a kind streak, and knows his thing better than most RP ministers. He can command respect easily, and he wouldn’t seek to supplant you.” Link looks thoughtful. “He’s in his sixties, and his youngest granddaughter, Tetra, intends to study as his assistant. She’s spunky and fundamentally good. You could say she has the best mentor.”

Link interrupts himself even as a pretty airhostess comes by to hand us two glasses of water. I wonder why I didn’t get to choose my drink. I glance at Link questioningly. He’s already charmed the hostess with a dazzling grin, something I find somewhat disconcerting. Is he being charming purposely? She’s happily offering him a cognac.

By Nayru, why don’t you try and get him drunk to attract him to the back of the plane to shag him, while you’re at it, girl?

I want a cognac too.

“No, thank you,” Link says about the cognac. He’s still smiling that silly seducer’s smile. It’s like he doesn’t realise that the only reason she hasn’t yet let us well alone is because he’s so handsome and his smile is keeping her beside him. “But perhaps you have sparkling wine? Something light. For myself and my companion.”

The airhostess notices me and smiles an accommodating smile. Wow. She even manages to keep her sudden jealousy under control. Impressive. Link doesn’t even notice it, and he’s observant enough, for a guy.

To Link, she says, “We have no sparkling wine, but we have a Shaker.” Smartly, before Link can say anything, she explains, “that’s Waker Islands mineral water shaken with three per cent sea flower extract. Served cool or warm,” she adds, with a subtle flirty look.

Um, ew. A warm drink other than milk chocolate? Worse: warm alcohol? Gross.

“I know what a Shaker is,” Link finally answers with a smile. I refrain from rolling my eyes. Like, duh, he knows. The hostess, clearly uneasy to have taken for granted that he didn’t, looks unsure. He continues, still smiling patiently, “We’ll have two. Cold, with crushed ice.”

“Of course,” she says as graciously as possible, and hurries to prepare our drinks. She hands us a drink that looks like a turquoise blue power drink. It’s a beautiful colour, but I’m not sure whether it’s a safe beverage or not.

Link leans over to me and says, bringing his own glass to his lips, “If you smell it, it smells like the sea. But it tastes sweet rather than salty.”

I give it a try. At first I expect it to taste like seawater, but at once my mouth is filled with a soft, sweet drink that tastes a bit of peaches and apples. The crushed ice makes it just heavy enough to quench the thirst. And I can’t taste the alcohol much. It’s just a somehow warm feeling in my chest.

Oh. Yummy!

Link sees my expression turn from a suspicious frown to a surprised smile. He smirks. “I knew you’d like it.” He takes another slow mouthful of his own glass and adds, “You’re the kind to like antithetical beverages.” He notices my clueless stare and explains, “I mean you like drinks that smell like one thing and taste like another. Salty and sweet, for example.”

“Yeah,” I say, slowly, “but only if they taste good in the end.”

Link’s eyebrows rise, but he just smiles to himself as he finishes his glass.

I also finish my drink in silence. Link puts his down and looks contemplative for a moment. Then, he says, “If you’re ever in trouble and I’m unavailable ―as in, if something you’re unsure about comes around― you can ask either Rauru, Tetra, Sheik or Impa for advice. Sheik and Impa work for the same firm as me, and they’re reliable.”

I nod, though I somehow could have assumed that was the sensible way of going about insecurity without him telling me.

“I’d like to mention that in the upcoming month, there’ll be many public presentations. I called the royal palace in Marcastle before we took off and had events scheduled for you. They’ll be spread throughout this upcoming month.” At my wide-eyed gape, he hurriedly adds, “Your training will continue all along. As I said, we’ve got a whole month of work ahead of us. Just consider the events as exams that determine your popularity.”

When I speak, my voice is squeaky. “What kind of public events are we talking about?”

Link shrugs, looking unconcerned. Clearly, he’s not the one who has no idea what he’s doing. “Concerts, benefits, a ball, press conferences, a royal guard review, public hearings, the like.”

Oh, yeah, I think with a tinge of sarcasm, just that.

“Before you panic,” Link says calmly, “know that either Sheik, Tetra, Rauru or I will always be standing right behind you, just in case. Not that, once we’re through with your education, you’ll actually need us around.”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” I ask, “to hire someone who’d actually fit the part? Couldn’t you have invented this person a past, and just gone ahead and have them play along? Nobody would have known.”

Link’s gaze sharpens. He turns to look at me and says, very slowly, very deliberately, “Zelda, I would have known. It’s bad enough that the country is in such shambles. If our firm had taken a fake on top of it, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with this nation anymore.”

“You’re that patriotic?” I ask flatly, a bit doubtful.

“I believe in basic principles,” Link simply explains. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a whole nation. I have values, and amongst them is the belief that a dead man’s will ought to be respected.”

I blink at him. “Um. I beg your pardon?”

He looks tired, now, but not at me. “I failed to explain everything to you back in your friend’s home. I didn’t want guilt or a sense of duty to affect your decision. As you already know, the Royalty Party was steadily rising even before Nohansen’s death.”

I nod. He’s basically summing up the past few months and there’s nothing new there. Thanks to Anju, I was mostly up to date with the latest political information.

Link continues after a breath. “In spite of his unfair treatment towards your mother, Nohansen was an intelligent, provident man. He saw that his own party would lose the next elections. Before his death, he asked for a change in his will. He asked that all his money be wired to your mother and asked the Royalty Party and ministers’ cabinet to consider you, his first and only child, as a future ruler.”

Well. That’s new.

“Technically,” Link says, “he left no money to you personally, but since your mother is dead and you are his only next of kin, your financial worth has definitely increased since his death. It’s just a matter of meeting his lawyer. On top of that, most of the Royalty Party respected your father greatly. Their political views varied, but generally, the RP agreed that a convenient transitional leader could be a previous president’s child. In this case, you.”

“And,” I say calmly ―a surprising feat, since I’m a bit shocked that Nohansen would have remembered mom and I, ― “you’re glad that they observed his will so you agreed to help them.”

“In short,” Link says smoothly, “that’s it.”

“Hey,” a nearby neighbour from the other side of the aisle, on Link’s side, “are you talking about the future ruler of Hyrule?” It’s a middle-aged man, on the obese side of fat, with a heavy moustache and a red, excitable face.

Link and I exchange glances.

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” the man exclaims joyfully. I’m shocked by how loud he’s speaking. “You’re talking about Nohansen’s child? No way.” He leans over to consider me. “Hey, you do look like the old Nohansen! No way! The Royalty Party is considering you? No way,” he says, for the third time.

Now, people are standing up in their seats and straining to catch a glance of my face. The airhostess too is looking our way, owlishly.

I’m too embarrassed for words. I can feel myself go red from head to toe. Link’s hand brushes mine, as though to reassure me. I open my eyes just in time to see him adjust a business-like air on his features and stand in the aisle.

To the excited passengers of our first-class section, Link says, “Um… Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that at this point any information regarding the upcoming fiction film entitled ‘The Nohansen Myth’ will have to be kept secret. The production should end in two years’ time but if you’re curious to find out who might play the main role, I’d like to present to you Zelda Harkinian.”

My eyes snap open so wide, it’s unbelievable. Link has turned to me and is smiling. He’s offering me a hand to help me up as well.

I try to be as gracious as possible. I stand and smile at the many eager faces in front of me, and even attempt a wave. I realise that no one ever looked at me with such admiration before. I’m a bit stunned.

“If it isn’t too much to ask,” Link says patiently, “I’d like to keep Miss Harkinian rested, so that she can focus on her audition. There will be no autographs or interviews at this point.” Then, with a completely fake grin at the loudmouth neighbour of his, he explains, “We were simply discussing a primary script. What you’ve heard today might not in actuality show up in the movie itself. We were merely exploring her character.”

The obese man nods, looking as surprised as I’m feeling. “Of course. I’m sorry to have intruded.” He looks up at me critically. “Though I’ve never heard of an actress named Zelda Harkinian.”

Link adopts a sort of indulgent air. “She’s new to film productions. This’ll be her first. I’m her agent, and though she hasn’t done the audition yet, I’m confident that she’s got what she needs for a brilliant career.”

Wow, Link is amazing. He just stood and made something like that up? I need to know his secret to self-control. I could definitely use something like that.

Many people clap politely. Are they going to get a shock when they realise their first assumptions were correct! I try to look demure, then the neighbour wishes me good luck, and that good luck immediately comes to my aid in the form of the pilot’s voice asking us to fasten our seatbelts for the approach and landing.

I hurry to obey the pilot, and praise whoever is watching over me for the great timing.

Link, too, sits back down, and fastens his belt. He looks at me, out of the corner of his eye, and the blueness of it twinkles in an amusement only I can fully comprehend.

I then realise that Link and I have just lived through our first inside joke, and that the movie beginner story is our secret number one.

As the plane shudders on the air currents and the pressure varies, making it painful on my ears, I can see clouds flutter by us. I’m holding onto my armrests, trying to maintain an air of calm but having trouble to keep my heart in my chest.

What if something bad happens and we crash, I wonder even as the ground objects grow steadily bigger through my window. I’ve seen plenty of stories in the past years about plane crashes. I try to remember the safety video.

Link leans towards me, casually whispering in my ear, “The only reason people make a ruckus about plane crashes is because they’re so rare. If it were as common as car accidents, and they didn’t cover them anymore, then you’d have reason to be worried. Air transit is still the safest means of travel to date.”

I glance at him, wondering how he could have guessed my thoughts. I guess my anxiety is pretty obvious, but still. “But what if we’re the ones who―” I don’t dare to finish my sentence, in case someone even more nervous than me overhears me and panics.

“At this moment, there are approximately six thousand planes in flight over the whole Hylian Alliance The chances that we should be the one flight to turn ill are slim to none.” He looks so confident about what he’s saying that I relax a bit. “Besides, this company is thriving enough that its planes are replaced regularly for new, more efficient models.”

“Okay,” I breathe softly. Outside my window, I see open fields turn into suburbs and increasingly dense building complexes, with larger, busier streets and boulevards and highways. We’re descending fast and I can soon discern the colour of each car on the highway below us. I hold onto my armrests, with excitement now. In the distance, I can see a couple of tall buildings: probably the beginning of Marcastle’s downtown. I can’t even begin to fathom how many shops are begging for my visit.

“Say, Link,” I ask as I brace myself for the landing, “Do I get an allowance?”