The Quarantine Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-03-07T00:00:00+00:00

Quarantine Day (feels like) 5,978,364

Royal Bedroom

Since I’d finished my weekly Zoom meeting with the United Nations Girls’ Education Initiative (pervasive gender inequality as well as increased poverty due to the pandemic and/or political or environmental crises in their native lands are preventing millions of girls around the world from completing their education, causing many of them instead to be forced into marriage and even give birth at far too young an age), and I’m still not allowed out of the palace due to the “Stand for Face Freedom” protesters outside, I had nothing to do except play Candyland with the twins for the ninety-billionth time . . .

. . . as much as you can play Candyland with two-year-olds, since they don’t really understand the game and so cheat (adorably but compulsively).

So that’s what I was doing when the major domo knocked and said, looking unusually pale, “Your Highness, you . . . you have visitors.”

“Visitors, Henri? What kind of visitors?”

I have to admit, I was taken completely off guard—not only because it had been so long since we’d had visitors of any kind at the palace (except ones who were protesting my mandates), but because our major domo, of all people, was freaking out and could no longer perform even the most basic aspect of his job description, which was to announce the name of any visitor to the palace.

“I . . . I don’t know, Your Highness.” Henri looked as if he were about to be sick. “I . . . remember them. They’ve been here before. But I—they—they’ve asked to see you, but they aren’t wearing masks. I didn’t want to risk being infected so I’m sorry to say that I . . . I . . . well, I forgot to ask.” Henri was obviously mortified.

“Not wearing masks?” I was perplexed. “It’s not Prince René, is it?”

“Oh, no, Your Highness. If it were, of course I would have alerted the Genovian Guard at once. No, this is . . . well, it’s . . . it’s . . .” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s Americans, Your Highness!”

This was a truly remarkable turn of events, considering the fact that Americans have been barred from entering the EU for some months now, unless of course they have dual citizenship. I could see now why Henri was so discomfited.

“Henri,” I said, throwing back my shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

Then, remembering that I have the blood of warrior princesses running through my veins and should easily be able to handle some germ-infested Americans standing in my Great Hall, I stood up just as Elizabeth threw her gingerbread game piece down on the finish line and screamed, “Candyland! I won!”

“S***!” Frank shrieked, and threw his own game piece across the room.

Perhaps I’m not as brave a warrior princess as my ancestresses, since I yelled, “Play nicely, you two!” at my own children as I made my way toward the Grand Staircase. What is the point of yelling at toddlers? It’s like yelling at people who won’t wear masks.

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