Plus, she still hadn’t managed to tell Alex about Jackson.
An hour later, Ivy didn’t recognise herself.
She was wearing a pink shirt with frilled sleeves, a knee-length white skirt, white woolly boots and a good layer of Santa Monica Sun in a Bottle on her face. The shirt wasn’t Olivia’s most flattering – the frills looked like jellyfish blobs – but it was pink so it would do.
There was one final touch she couldn’t go without. She picked up Olivia’s Blush and Bashful lip gloss, took a deep breath and applied it.
This could get me into batloads of trouble, Ivy thought, but I need to know what Prince Alex is up to.
The idea had come to her as she was watching Olivia and Alex on the ice. She had to find out Alex’s motives. I can’t do that as Ivy. Alex barely seemed to notice that she existed. But as Olivia? She could find out a whole lot of information.
And when Olivia had rushed off with Nadia, Ivy knew it was now or never.
She practised a hair flip in the mirror, careful not to knock the feathery pink hairband. Yup, still got it.
Olivia was busy fixing Nadia’s necklace in the servants’ quarters and Ivy knew that Alex had already come back from the lake.
As long as I don’t run into Olivia, I’ll be fine, Ivy thought.
She started trudging down the steps to the ground floor, but then realised who she was supposed to be. She forced a little spring into her step and bounced the rest of the way.
Being Olivia takes a lot more energy than being me.
At the bottom of the stairs, Horatio was waiting, like he knew she was coming.
‘Horatio!’ Ivy said, glad she’d decided to perk up on her way down. ‘Have you seen the prince anywhere?’
Horatio frowned and peered at her, like he could sense something was wrong. Ivy guessed she had about three seconds before her cover was blown. Ivy did the only thing she could think of to do: she flipped her long brown hair.
‘I last saw him heading towards the kitchen, Miss Olivia,’ Horatio said and bowed.
‘Thanks!’ Ivy said and squeezed past him.
She hurried into the hallway, looking around for anyone but seeing only the landscape paintings of the Carpathian mountains on the walls.
Pausing at the kitchen door and taking a deep breath, Ivy told herself, Think pink, think perky. She put her hand up to push open the kitchen door, but it swung open before she even touched it.
Ivy looked at her hand. Did I do that? She wondered if she’d manifested some crazy new vampire power, but then Prince Alex stepped through, leaving the kitchen.
Ivy just caught a glimpse of Tessa leaning against the counter with tears streaming down her cheeks. Alex’s mouth was set in a scowl, which turned to a smile when he saw Ivy – well, when he saw ‘Olivia’.
‘Hi!’ Ivy said as brightly as she could, but really wanted to shout, What have you done to poor Tessa, you big, mean snob!
Even if he wasn’t trying to use her sister, Ivy didn’t want Olivia being friends with someone who made servants cry.
‘Hello, Olivia,’ Alex said, hastily shutting the door behind him and offering his arm. ‘Just the person I wanted to see.’
Ivy plastered on her biggest, bunniest smile and hooked her arm through his. ‘I was looking for you, too,’ she said.
Operation Royal Reveal has begun.
‘There is a book that I want to show you,’ he explained as he led her along the corridor, looking nervously over his shoulder back towards the kitchen. ‘Come with me.’ He was virtually dragging Ivy along now, and she gently freed her arm from his.
‘Lead the way!’ she said.
He pushed open a door to a room that Ivy hadn’t been in yet. It was a dimly lit, cosy library with wood panelling, red leather chairs and books from floor to ceiling. She breathed deeply, taking in the smell of leather and dust.
Ivy touched the dark wood of the ladder that was attached to a railing high above her head. ‘This room is beautiful,’ she said.
‘It is, isn’t it? As a child, your family would allow me to come and read in here on visits.’ Alex was peering intently at one of the shelves at eye-level.
‘That’s it!’ he declared and pulled out a tall, green leather-bound book. The title was pressed into the leather in gold – Legends of the Lazar – and there was an ornate outline of a leafy tree.
Alex placed the book on a wooden book stand and opened it.
‘This is the oldest known version of the story I told you about, the princess in the tree.’ Alex pointed to a page of calligraphy with an intricate big letter with vine leaves twirling around it to begin the story.
‘Oh, yes,’ Ivy said faintly. What story? Was he talking about the poem she’d heard him reciting to Olivia on the hill? She’d just have to pretend that she knew what he was talking about.
The story was in Romanian, so Ivy couldn’t read it, but the image on the opposite page was of a beautiful girl wearing flowing robes and a crown. It was enough for Ivy to guess what Alex liked about the story: a beautiful princess is rescued by a handsome prince and lives happily ever after, bossing around servants and lording it over everyone for the rest of their lives.
No more Miss Nice Olivia, Ivy thought. Time to get down to business.
‘So, Alex,’ Ivy said, putting on her cheeriest voice. ‘Tell me about your mother.’
Alex looked a little like a sleeping fawn that had just had a torch shined in its face: startled and about to flee.
‘Good as new,’ Olivia declared, holding up the necklace so that Nadia could see it was fixed. Nadia had taken her to the servants’ quarters on the second floor, where she’d used pliers from the toolbox.
‘Miss Olivia, you are too kind,’ Nadia replied, putting the chain back around her neck. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘It was the least I could do,’ Olivia replied. ‘And please, just call me Olivia. No “Miss”.’
Nadia nodded. ‘OK . . . Olivia.’ Then she blushed a little.
As Olivia stood up to go, she caught sight of a Romanian magazine with Jackson on the cover. Her stomach clenched. She remembered her first day filming on the movie set. Jackson had arranged for a playlist of all her favourite songs to be playing in her trailer while she was getting ready. He can be romantic and sweet, she thought. So why isn’t he making more of an effort? She hadn’t heard anything else from him. Even if the phone signal was dreadful here, she couldn’t help feeling that if Jackson really cared he’d have found out the landline number or something.