Olivia watched out of the car window for any sign of the palace. It had snowed overnight and there was a coating of white over everything.
‘This is quite an honour,’ the Countess said. She sat in the front seat of the luxurious eight-seater car, wearing a high-collared ebony jacket over her embroidered dress and short black gloves.
Olivia had chosen her light pink turtleneck and floor-length grey skirt with a wide grey belt and hoped she wasn’t under-dressed. Her blue pea coat was on the seat next to her, in case they were outside at all.
‘Yes!’ came an exclamation from Ivy, who was sitting beside her in her black sweater, pinstripe fitted skirt and multi-buckle boots. She was frantically pressing buttons on her phone. ‘Cell-phone signal!’
Olivia’s new phone buzzed in her bag. There were two texts from her mom, which she sent a quick reply to, explaining that there wasn’t a good signal at the house, and a third text from Jackson. It just said, ‘See ya.’
She re-read it seven times.
What does that mean?
Did he send that before she left? Was it a friendly goodbye? Or was it some horribly casual way of breaking it off? It seemed cryptic. No smiley faces, no ‘Love, Jackson’. Olivia rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
What if she didn’t see him soon? She didn’t even know what town he was going to next. She wanted to ask Ivy about it, but she couldn’t in a car full of adults.
The first chance she had, she would talk to Ivy about this. Her twin would know what to do. She went back to gazing at the Transylvanian countryside as it sped past the car. Dark, forbidding forests and heavy grey skies. It was so unfamiliar and just made her think how Jackson was thousands of miles away.
‘Holy Water!’ Ivy whispered to Olivia.
As they drove up the semi-circular gravel driveway, Ivy realised that the Queen’s estate made her grandparents’ house look like a shed. The two of them peered up at the sculptures of eagles with their wings spread, perched on the top of the stone turret above the entrance.
‘It’s incredible,’ Olivia whispered back, but she wasn’t really looking. Ivy wondered if her sister’s mind was somewhere else.
Horatio pulled to a stop and climbed out to open the car door. Ivy emerged to see four uniformed staff waiting at the ornate iron doors to greet them.
As she stepped out of the cold wind into the grand entrance, there was no sign of the royal family, but an older woman was calling out to a man who was adjusting light kits and reflectors at the bottom of a sweeping gilded staircase.
‘Perfect, daaahling!’ she said and swept her floor-length blue coat behind her. The golden flower embroidery on it flashed in the light. Her stark white curls were tamed by a wide clip with an enormous blue and green peacock feather.
Ivy knew that incredible style. ‘Georgia Huntingdon!’ she said.
The woman whirled around and her blood-red lips split into a wide smile.
‘Ivy, darling!’ She floated over and air-kissed her on both cheeks. ‘And Olivia!’
Olivia looked startled to see the editor of VAMP magazine.
‘As soon as I heard you two were in Transylvania, connecting with your noble roots,’ Georgia purred, ‘I simply had to capture the event.’
‘And we were happy to let her,’ the Countess said, air-kissing Georgia.
Mr Vega cleared his throat. ‘I wish you had consulted me first, Mother,’ he said quietly.
The Countess looked horrified to have upset her son. ‘Oh, darling, I –’
But she was interrupted by a voice from the top of the red-carpeted staircase.
‘I thought the palace would be the perfect backdrop for a photo shoot,’ said Prince Alex, who was watching them from above. He bowed to his guests before stepping lightly down the stairs. He wore a black suit jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans – he somehow looked modern and classical at the same time.
Ivy realised that everyone else had dropped into a little curtsy or bow and she hurriedly followed suit.
As usual, one step behind, Ivy thought. At least Georgia is familiar, like a little piece of home.
‘Welcome to the palace,’ Alex said to everyone, his glance lingering on Olivia.
Olivia curtsied again. ‘It’s an honour.’