According to the briefing materials, the university was founded in 1889 as a land-grant college and had grown into one of the most liberal institutions on the West Coast. It had nearly eighteen thousand students, a sprawling campus built on bluffs overlooking the Puget Sound, and a student body that was as diverse as it was politically active. In other words, it was exactly the kind of place where a British prince might disappear in the crowds and experience life as a normal person.
A commoner, as the initial briefing had worded it. A commoner like me.
Not that it was any of my business what Prince Gregory—Eddie, I reminded myself—chose to explore during his time here. My job was to keep him safe, maintain his cover, and make sure he got through his year abroad without ending up dead, kidnapped, or exposed. Everything else was above my pay grade.
The university campus was even more beautiful than the photos had suggested. Rolling hills covered in massive Douglas firs, red brick buildings that looked charming and sturdy at the same time, and everywhere I looked, signs of the progressive culture I’d read about. Rainbow flags hung from residence-hall windows, and posters calling for protests and demonstrations hung everywhere. It was a far cry from what I was used to.
I found visitor parking near the admissions office and spent a few minutes observing. Students walked by in everything from designer clothes to what looked like pajamas, couples of every possible combination holding hands without anyone batting an eye. The whole place thrummed with an energy that was foreign but not unpleasant, like everyone here was exactly where they wanted to be, doing exactly what they wanted to do.
Lucky them.
The student ID process was surprisingly efficient, considering I was posing as a transfer student. Basil Puller, International Relations major, originally from North Carolina. My name was real and so was my hometown, but everything else was fabricated, including my age. On paper, I was twenty-two rather than twenty-seven—five years that made a big difference at that age. My boss had grinned as she told me that for once, my youthful features would come in handy. She wasn’t wrong. I always had looked younger than I was. In the Marines, my nickname had been Babyface.
“Welcome to Cascade Bay!” the student worker chirped as she handed me my ID card. She had purple hair and at least six piercings that I could see. “Are you super excited about living in Cascade Hall? It’s, like, the nicest housing on campus. You and your partner must have some serious connections to get a spot there as a transfer.”
“Something like that,” I replied, flashing her a friendly smile. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“Oh my god, I love your accent!” She practically bounced in her seat. “Are you from the South? That’s so cool. We don’t get many Southern students here. You’re going to love it, I promise. Everyone’s super welcoming, and there’s always something happening on campus. Are you planning to rush any fraternities? Because fair warning, some can be a tad problematic, but there are some good alternatives if you’re looking for community.”
I blinked, trying to process the rapid-fire information dump. “No fraternities for me, but thanks for the heads up. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She beamed at me and waved as I headed for the exit. “See you around campus!”
Cascade Hall turned out to be everything the housing materials had promised—a modern, four-story building with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the water that was to die for. The lobby was all clean lines and contemporary furniture, with study nooks scattered throughout and what appeared to be a coffee bar in one corner.
I automatically catalogued the security features as I made my way to the elevator. Key card access at the main entrance, cameras in the lobby and hallways, resident advisor desk with clear sight lines to all entry points. Good. Not perfect, but good enough for our purposes.
The third floor was quiet when I stepped off the elevator, most students probably settling in elsewhere on campus. I found room 3B and used my key card, pushing open the door to what would be my home for the next year.
The mini-apartment was bigger than I’d expected. Large windows looked out over the campus toward the water, and the view from the tiny balcony was pretty damn nice. Not a bad place to wake up with a cup of coffee.
The set-up had a decent-sized common area with a couch and coffee table, and in the kitchenette, we had a dining table for two. There were two doors, one leading to the bedroom and another one to the bathroom, which was not en suite, thank fuck. I’d be sleeping on the couch and it would’ve sucked to always have to go through Eddie’s room for the bathroom.
I dropped my single duffle bag on the couch, then walked right back out and spent a few hours familiarizing myself with the campus. I walked all the paths until I knew exactly where every building was located, where we’d be able to find shelter in case of an emergency, and what areas we’d need to avoid.
At three, I met with Heather Werner, the head of the Campus Police. She was a no-nonsense fifty-something woman, who was briskly efficient and professional. She and the Dean were the only people who knew who “Eddie” really was. Heather and I had both argued for more people to be in the know, but we’d been outvoted. Apparently, the fear that someone would leak the news was too big, and I could understand that.
At least Heather and I were on the same page, and she promised me all the support I needed, which included her private cell number in case I ever needed to get a hold of her urgently. I gave her mine too, obviously. And she was aware of my concealed carry permit, so legally, I was covered there too.
“The Dean has informed all your professors of your special status,” Heather said. “They know you’re here as an auditing student and aren’t required to take any exams.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to pass these courses otherwise.”
She smiled. “I would think that with your background, you’d know a thing or two about International Relations.”
Bash grinned. “If by that you mean protecting someone from the UN, then yes. Unfortunately, that probably won’t get me far in these classes.”
We both had a good laugh about that.
“Don’t forget that those mini-apartments are for couples only,” Heather said when I was about to leave. “So be prepared to pose as a couple if needed.”
Right. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be necessary. “Noted, thank you.”
After a quick dinner consisting of a massive plate of pasta bolognese with copious amounts of cheese on top in the dining hall, I settled in the living room, content with what I’d been able to accomplish that day. Now all I had to do was wait for the prince to arrive.
He was flying into SeaTac on a private plane to avoid the press, and he’d be dropped off by his own British security at the front door of Cascade Hall. I’d wanted to pick him up from the airport, but I’d been informed that wasn’t necessary and that as soon as he entered Cascade Hall, he’d be my responsibility.
Around seven-thirty, I heard voices in the hallway outside, getting louder as they approached our door. A posh British accent that could only belong to one person, and what sounded like at least two other voices trying to help with something.
