Chapter 2

2

Despite having the mice dispose of the invitation, it reappeared the following morning, sitting on my kitchen counter, mocking me.

Still no.

I didn’t know who this Prince Killian was, but he’d have to settle for a different Cinderella. A thought that reminded me of what happened the last time I’d rejected a prince. Old Henrick and my bitchy ex-co-worker Marilyn married, but she didn’t live happily ever after. From what I’d gleaned from the news reports, Henrick discovered her lie and murdered her by stabbing her with the heel of the shoe.

A horrifying thing to happen and I’d spent years riddled with guilt over it. It took Belle repeatedly telling me, “ Play stupid games, win a fatal prize,” to help me overcome my sense of responsibility. It wasn’t my fault Marilyn lied, thus leading to her demise. Still… I felt bad.

I plucked the invitation—while wearing gloves to avoid skin contact—and took it to my kitchen sink, where I shoved it down the garburator hole and flipped the switch, grinding it to a pulp. Then I left for work.

Upon entering the bureau, I greeted the very pregnant Luanne, who was due to birth her yet another son any day now. Poor woman. While actually in love with her husband, they were under The Twelve Brothers curse. Meaning, if Luanne had the prerequisite dozen boys, followed by a girl child, all her sons would die. The plan was to get her tubes tied before she reached that number. She insisted she’d stop at ten to be safe, but I had my doubts. Luanne loved having babies.

Personally, the idea of birthing that many children horrified. I wanted one, maybe two max, if I ever met the right person—which, as the years passed, got less and less likely. It wasn’t that I was picky, but I attracted the wrong sort. Men who leered and thought me a pushover. Males who wanted to treat me as a fragile damsel, good for looking pretty and keeping house. None recognized that, despite my affable nature, I did have a strong sense of worth and was intelligent enough to know what I wanted.

I wanted love, true love, and respect. Apparently, too much to ask for.

Upon arriving at my desk, I noticed the invitation to the ball sitting atop my keyboard.

My lips pinched. Bloody magic trying to force me to its will.

Too bad. I still wasn’t opening it. By lifting my keyboard, I dumped it into the waste bin beside my desk. With it out of the way, I went to work. The Grimm Effect had been in overtime of late, as we’d been seeing a surge in cases.

Pigs, swans, rats, and a bevy of creatures had been spotted in our city causing trouble. We had some Rumpelstiltskin wannabes making bargains for babies. Rapunzels looking for princes. Fiddlers fiddling and sly foxes scheming. We’d even had to ban apples since they kept putting people into magical comas.

In the early years, it used to be that only the original Grimm stories and some adaptations were re-enacted. But no one could deny anymore that the repertoire of curses had expanded to include more stories.

So many stories that at times I wondered why we even bothered.

My gaze went to the corner of the envelope peeking from my trash bin. Given most of the field agents were currently handling cases, and I had no new data to work with yet, I found myself doing a search on Prince Killian. Ruler of Corsica, a small European island that separated from France in the early 1900s, he was the only heir to his mother’s throne.

To my surprise, the image on file showed he wasn’t hideous. On the contrary, his golden hair went nicely with his olive skin tone and brilliant green eyes. A fit prince, he played polo, swam, jogged. Or at least the paparazzi had posted pics of him doing those various physical activities. They also had him in uniform, inspecting his army.

Someone snuck up on me to remark, “Oh good, you’re already studying Prince Killian.”

Surprise had me whipping around in my seat to exclaim, “I wasn’t studying him.”

“You should be since he’s your next assignment,” Hilda, my boss, stated in that no-nonsense tone she liked to use with her staff.

“Excuse me?”

“Prince Killian is arriving today and will be conducting some meetings with government officials to hammer out some treaties between our countries. As well, he will be the guest of honor at a ball being thrown for his fortieth birthday at the Classica Hotel. To ensure his protection while on U.S. soil, we’ve deployed the Grimm Knights.”

“Alright.” I nodded. The Grimm Knights were Grimphers—people caught by the Grimm curse—who’d been turned into heroes and now thrived on saving the world while working for the bureau. “Do you need me to do some reconnaissance?”

“No. I’m assigning you to act as the liaison between the prince and the bureau.”

“You can’t be serious,” I huffed. “He’s a bachelor royal.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you aware I’ve gotten a very insistent invitation to his ball?” I pointed to the garbage can, where the edge of the envelope peeked.

“Well, of course you are invited. How else would you be able to assist him?”

“Assist him doing what?” I squeaked.

“Making sure none of the attending Cinderellas snares him in a trap,” Hilda explained with a slight roll of her eyes.

“Wait, he doesn’t want to get married?” That would be a first. Most princes loved the adulation and attention of prospective brides.

Hilda smiled. “Like a certain employee of mine, he’s determined to escape the curse. However, that won’t be easy. For one, the ball was his mother’s idea. Apparently, she wants some heirs.”

“Wait, she wants him to follow the story?” How appalling. You’d think his own mother would want him to choose the woman he’d spend his life with.

“Oh yes, Queen Melania is quite determined to see him wed. And she might get her wish. According to the most recent reports, the number of Cinderellas suddenly showing up in our city has been increasing daily. The curse is transforming them left and right. The office that handles legal name changes can’t keep up.”

I blinked. “Exactly how many Cinderellas are we talking about?”

“At last count, the curse has invited one hundred and thirty-six.”

My jaw dropped. “That many? That’s insane. There aren’t even that many bachelor princes in the world.” Princes didn’t stay single for long these days, given they were in short supply.

“Hence why the prince requested aid.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Exactly how do you expect me to somehow keep more than a hundred hopeful ladies from trying to trap him?”

“Not easily, which is why the Grimm Knights will be assisting.”

“And will they be killing the Cinderellas that get too frisky?” The Knights had a reputation, especially their oversized, dour leader, Levi.

“Their orders are to detain and-or remove problematic hopefuls.”

I waved a hand. “Why is the ball being held here? Shouldn’t this prince be celebrating his birthday at home?”

“Unfortunately, given the time-sensitive nature of some of the goods the treaties will be covering, it had to be now. And, as mentioned, his mother saw an opportunity she didn’t want to miss.”

“Fine. However, can’t someone else act as liaison? You know the curse has been reactivating toward people who’d already evaded it, and apparently, I might be next.” I pointed to the trash bin. “I’ve gotten rid of that invite several times already, but it keeps popping back up.”

Hilda glanced briefly at the bin before looking back at me with a regretful expression. “About the whole reactivation thing, there’ve been a few video meetings with the higher-ups in the bureau about that matter. The consensus by some of the scientists studying it is that those experiencing a resurgence didn’t actually beat their curse so much as cause it to go dormant until the right situation presented itself.”

“Doesn’t that make it even more risky to use me as his liaison? I don’t want to have to reject him like I did Prince Henrick.” Who ended up in front of a firing squad because, despite being a prince, murdering one’s wife and throwing her corpse from a parapet remained illegal.

“You needn’t worry about Prince Killian. Like you, he’s very determined to not succumb to the Grimm Effect trap.”

My lips pursed. “Thought by many a person who fell victim. I really would prefer it if you sent Belle or Blanche. Even better, what about Rory and Tom?” As straight men, they wouldn’t be tempted by the male prince.

“Rory and Tom are dealing with a family of bears squatting in the west end. Blanche is a touch too abrasive for someone this important. As for Belle, she met the prince when he got off the plane, and let’s just say, it didn’t go well.” Hilda’s lips pursed.

“What did she do?”

“Mistook him for a thief when he grabbed his suitcase from the luggage carousel. She tackled him to the ground.”

“She arrested the prince?” I couldn’t help an incredulous note.

“In her defense, he didn’t look very royal in his jeans and rockband T-shirt.”

I almost grinned at the thought of the prince being taken down by Belle. “I’m surprised she got close enough, given he’s being protected by the Knights.”

“The Knights didn’t expect a threat from Belle. Luckily, the incident amused the prince. However, I still thought it best to reassign her.”

I sighed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Then, because maybe it would help, I murmured, “My fairy godmother visited me last night.”

Hilda’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh.”

“Exactly. So you can see why I might be leery about accepting this task.”

“Or you could look at this as a chance to put your story to bed for another decade or two.”

My boss wouldn’t be swayed, and as she left me to stare at my screen, I wondered what I could do to ensure this prince never looked at me twice.

Maybe if I didn’t shower and showed up sweaty? A little too gross.

I could dress in ugly, shapeless clothes and find something atrocious to wear for the ball. I would make sure I didn’t wear slippers but tightly laced boots. I’d refuse to dance with him. I’d use my words and say no.

“Excuse me, are you Agent Jones?” a deep voice asked.

I said, “Yes,” before I turned around to see the very pretty prince standing by my desk.