“Maybe she’ll try to turn our politics American,” the other says with a chuckle. “We’ll become a new state, and she can finally be like her precious Hollywood celebrities.”
“She might as well give Candora to Grimstad and leave the country, if she loves the Americans so much. Why bother becoming queen when she can’t be bothered to spend time in her own country?”
I cannot hold back my frown as the men start making jokes about my friends. Or rather my friendship with them. I rarely get to spend time with my American friends as it is, no matter how much I adore them, but the thought of my countrymen disliking my association with them… It is too painful to even consider cutting ties. Aside from my family, they are the only people in the world who truly know me, and I have not been able to visit them formonthsbecause my focus has been so fixed on preparing for the crown.
Can my people not see how thoroughly I have dedicated my life to serving them? The sacrifices I have made to become what they need?
Sander catches my eye and shakes his head subtly, though I am uncertain what he means by that, as his expression has turned into nothing but muted disinterest.
The men behind me are still talking, but I regret this decision to come and listen. I have learned nothing that I did not already assume. Grimstad is a real threat, and my people do not have faith in my loyalty to myhomeland. How can I possibly change their minds in a few weeks, even if I learn what they are looking for in a monarch?
I stand and head for the door, stifled and heavy. There are too many people. Too much noise. Too many thoughts and doubts in my mind. Something happens in the rugby match, causing people to cheer once more, and I am jostled by the crowd. I nearly lose my balance, bumping into a woman and losing my cap in the process.
“Alright?” the woman says as she steadies me with her hands, but then our eyes meet, and she gasps, dropping her hold just as Sander comes up beside me. “Princess Freya!”
All conversation stops, leaving the air thick with discomfort as dozens of gazes fix upon me. Only seconds later, the whispers begin. Nothing about the growing buzz sounds friendly.
“Go,” Sander says, nudging me toward the door.
I gape at him. “What?”
Someone steps closer, and Sander’s entire demeanor shifts, turning him from casual pub goer to palace guard as he makes himself bigger to shield me. “Freya, go outside.Now.”
Two more people move forward, and fear grips me tight, urging my feet to the door even though I do not wish to leave my brother on his own. Will they attack him for bringing me here? I stumble outside as half of me is desperate to go back in and drag Sander with me. The other half of me is a coward and stands on the dark and silent walkway. Waiting.
No one follows me, but I cannot decide if that is because they are more interested in Sander or because he is holding them back. But no matter what is happening inside, I know better than to go back into the pub.
“What do I do?” I whisper, wrapping an arm around my waist as I start to pace. I have never been alone like this outside the palace, and it seems my bravery exists only when I have someone bigger and stronger to look after me.
The pub door opens, and I hold my breath, praying it is Sander safe and sound and ready to take me home. But the man who comes out is unfamiliar, his eyes narrowed as he takes me in. “What’s a princess doing in a place like this?” he asks slowly.
The disgust in his voice turns my blood to ice. This man is not my friend. I take a breath, calling on my years of feigning confidence. “Can I not join my fellow—”
“You’re not one of us,” he growls, taking a step closer. Nothing about his haggard face or wrinkled clothing suggests any sympathy when we clearly come from different worlds. I should run, but my feet refuse to move as he tilts his head to study me. “You royals sit up there in your ivory tower, pretending to care while the rich get richer and the rest of us are left with nothing.”
That is not true. “We care,” I whisper.
He chuckles, and in a flash his fingers clamp around my arm and tug me toward him. “You don’t, but someone else will.”
“Please.” He will not hurt me. Will he? I try to pull my arm free, but he holds too tight. Surely he is not stupid enough to attack a member of the royal family.
“Come and see what life here is really like, Princess.”
My fear spikes as he pulls harder. “Let me—”
Something slams into the man, jarring me out of his hold as someone shoves my attacker into the wall of the pub. Sander!
“Hands off the princess unless you want to lose them.”
Oh. Not Sander.
My breath escapes my lungs in a shaky exhale that leaves me dizzy.Elliot.
Chapter Five
Elliot
Idon’tknowwhoI’m more angry with—Hex and Sander, for letting the princess wander the city at night; Freya, for being stupid enough to sneak out; or whoever this guy is, for tempting me to do more than rough him up a bit. The man beneath me only struggles for a second before he realizes there’s no getting out of my chokehold without this turning into a dangerous situation.
