Page 24 of A Fierce Princess

“Well, the paps aren’t fun, and I seldom just get to go anywhere. The pomp and circumstance of it all is a bit much at times. Everything is so formal. You know the old adage, ‘duty before self.’ Plus, anytime I want to leave the palace there’s the matter of security. I’m almost never alone except in my apartment or on the palace grounds. I don’t get to do things most people do,” I try to explain.

“What would you like to do?” he asks.

I grin. “Jump in my car and go for a road trip, or go shopping at the mall before Christmas, or just decide to go to the movies,” I say.

“So, what’s good about it?” he asks.

“I get to do things most people don’t. Like, if I want to see a concert, I just get tickets, no questions asked. Or, if I want to go off to the Bahamas for a vacation in forty-eight hours, the king just snaps his fingers and makes it happen,” I add with a giggle.

“Your father must really love you,” he says.

“He does,” I say. “I think he’s always worried the most about me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m the youngest or the only girl,” I add.

“What’s he like, the king?” Logan asks.

“He’s…kind, and fair, and he can be a little stubborn at times, but he’s also funny when you don’t expect it. He doesn’t put up with shit from any of us,” I say as I pause. He’s also lonely, I think to myself.

“He sounds like a nice father,” Logan says.

“What about your father?” I ask him.

“Oh, I don’t know him,” he says.

“Oh?” I pry.

“My parents split when I was a baby. He didn’t want to be a part of our lives. My mom brought me home to my grandparents and raised me there,” he says.

“How are your grandparents?” I ask.

“They’re great. My mom was always a little preoccupied with her journalism career, but they were always there for me,” he says.

“Were you close to your mom?” I ask, curious about his past.

“Yes and no,” he says quietly.

I sit up and put my hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He shrugs. “She was killed in a car accident, like your mom,” he says. We are quiet for a long moment. “She wasn’t a bad mom. I mean she tried, in her own way. She was good at telling stories. She always drove me to camp every year, and we’d have fun on the road trip. When she did travel, which was often, she’d send me postcards from each city she went to. She’d always call on Wednesday nights. I don’t know why that was just our thing.”

“How’d you end up here?” I ask him.

“When I was in high school, she decided I was old enough to join her on an adventure. She had a long-term story, she had been working on for a while, and she moved us down here. I still spent summers back at my grandparents’, but I finished school down here. A few years after she died, I decided to buy a boat. I had worked part-time as a mate for a captain, mostly doing weekend trips and fishing charters. I loved it. I got my business degree, and then when I inherited money, I just figured why not do what I love, every day. I mean, life’s short, right?” he says as he looks back at me.

“Yes, it is,” I agree.

I sigh. “I wish I could stay here forever,” I admit.

“Why?” he asks.

“When I go home, I’ll have to start taking on my duties,” I explain. “I’ve managed to avoid them for as long as possible, but I finish with my graduate degree this year.”

“Wow, you seem young to have done that,” he says.

I laugh. “Well, I was privately tutored, so I finished high school at sixteen,” I explain. “Then I did university in three years, mostly online, and I’m wrapping up my grad program in a little over a year,” I add.

“What did you study?” he asks.

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