Chapter 1

"You've got the poker face of a five-year-old playing Go Fish," I said to my best friend Daphne as she pretended not to peek at her phone. "What has got you so captivated?"

"Nothing," she answered while we sipped tea on the royal terrace. "Do you fancy a vacation before you start your new project? Maybe London or Sydney?" She shot another glance at her phone, then set it face-down on the table when she saw I caught her. Again.

My suspicion radar vibrated like crazy. There was something she didn't want me to see.

"Let me have a look at your phone." I held out my hand. "If it's nothing, you won't have a problem showing me what you were looking at."

"It is inconvenient and highly frustrating that you know me so well," Daphne said.

"And it really isn't necessary to protect my feelings," I said. "I can handle whatever it might be. What is it, more gossip?"

Daphne shook her head. "It's just a replay of the top story on Channel Five news. It's about your love life, or the supposed lack thereof. Nothing you should be looking at."

"Are they running out of genuine news?" I feigned indifference while my stomach twisted with annoyance.

I was getting a little tired of the scrutiny and speculation of people who didn't know a thing about me. Ever since my wedding was canceled, the world had been obsessed with my next move. Or, my next man, to be more accurate. Well, I had news for them: I didn't have a plan and I didn't have a man. The only thing I wanted to do was enjoy my three weeks of downtime before I got to work on my passion project with the International Grain Coalition.

Daphne continued with that look on her face. The "There's something you should know, but you will not like it" kind of look. The curiosity bubbled inside me, a vexing itch that just had to be scratched.

"Show me," I said. "I want to see what's got you so jittery."

"It's the tea. You know how Earl Grey gets to me." She glanced inside her full cup, then back up at me with chagrin.

I crossed my arms and waited.

Daphne sighed and handed me her phone.

I nixed the subtitles, turned up the volume, and tapped on the rewatch button.

"The unexpected breakup of Prince Oliver and Princess Veronica continues to take the world by storm." The news anchor's tone hovered between intrigue and pity.

Both Oliver and I were beyond grateful that the arranged marriage meticulously planned by our parents had been called off. We'd been friends since childhood, but the thought of marrying him was about as off-putting as marrying my brother. I had certainly dodged a bullet, but why was the spotlight on me?

"And what's next for the princess?" the news anchor continued as a montage of my photos slid across the screen. "Does Princess Veronica have any new suitors on the horizon? This is her second big breakup in a little over a year. Is it possible the princess will now embrace spinsterhood?"

"Spinsterhood? This is twenty-first century Kastonia, not the set of Bridgerton! I'm only thirty-one!" I echoed.

Daphne's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Apparently, it's a viable career option now. Embrace the new you."

"Maybe I will," I joked. "I'll shock them all by becoming a certified old maid and adopting a dozen cats."

"Your devotion is inspiring since I hear the average spinster-to-cat ratio is seven," Daphne deadpanned. "I guess a princess must follow her heart, even if it leads to litter boxes."

"Nothing could be truer," I said with a smile. "I just don't understand why this is news. Of all the things they could talk about, why would they choose my love life? Why aren't they talking about something more exciting, like the film festival?"

The Kastonia International Film festival draws thousands of people to our city every year, including many A-list actors and directors from Hollywood. In fact, it is one of the most popular film festivals in the world, right behind Venice, Cannes, Berlin, Toronto and Sundance.

Daphne shrugged. "The film festival ends today. Obviously, they ran out of things to talk about. Not to mention the fact that you're much more exciting than the latest Marvel movie."

I'm not sure I agreed, but why did the news channels always have to put a negative spin on things? I'd much rather embrace the singleton life than be with the wrong person. My happiness did merit consideration, regardless of what the media, and apparently all of Kastonia thought.

"Rumor has it that King Gustav and Queen Camille are already in secret negotiations with Queen Annabelle of Verdana," the news anchor continued as a video of my parents with Oliver's mother filled the screen. "Another arranged marriage, perhaps? This time with Prince Oliver's brother, Prince Augustus? Would Princess Veronica actually give him another chance now that he is next in line to be king?"

No, I certainly would not!

Granted, August and I had a history, but the memory of him was like a dark cloud that lingered, leaving a bitter aftertaste that no amount of time or Irish whiskey could erase. I had unwisely believed, with every fiber of my being, that August was my destined soulmate, my true love always.

I had been dead wrong.

August's parting words had been that he needed a journey to "find himself." Yet, as I had scrolled through his social media two weeks later, the only discovery he seemed to have made was a trifecta of pleasures: beers, bongos, and beaches. Not to mention a side order of bongo-filled bikinis. He had been a nomad on a selfish one-year odyssey across South America, his only companions a fancy motorcycle and a worn duffle bag. Each post, each carefree smile plastered across his face in those photos, felt like a dagger twisting deeper into my heart. My giving August another chance?

"Not in a million years," I muttered to myself.

"And speaking of Kastonia royalty, what about the young and very eligible Prince Caleb?" the TV anchor asked.

My brother sauntered onto the terrace with his apparent attempt at a big sexy smile on his face, then winked at Daphne. "What about me?"

"Just a bunch of gossip and rumors." I jabbed the pause button on the video with more force than necessary, then handed the phone back to Daphne which she promptly dropped into her Mary Poppins purse. The woman had practically everything you'd ever need in a glorious Hermès Birkin.

Caleb nodded and gestured to her phone. "Who do they have me romantically linked with this week? I would be perfectly fine if it was Daphne, just so you know."

"We know," I said in unison with her, then we both laughed.

My brother had made it clear since the tender age of six that he would marry Daphne when he turned eighteen. She had been a good sport about it all these years, even though she had no intention of going out with someone so young.

Undeterred by our laughter, Caleb leaned against the back of the chair with the ease of someone who believed navigating the world was as simple as choosing what you wanted for breakfast. "You know, Daphne, age is just a number. And think about it, with the ten-year gap between us, you've got a decade of wisdom on me. You can mold me to be exactly the man you want. I would be a very willing participant."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. "And what makes you think I have the patience to train a young prince? Especially one as unruly as you?"

Caleb's grin only widened, and he stepped closer, a twinkle in his eye. "The only thing unruly about me is my hair. Besides, I'm a quick learner."

"I'm not so sure about that," I interjected with a smile. "Otherwise, you would have remembered that our teatime is?—"

"Sacred," Caleb finished my sentence with a sly smile. "Well then, I shall leave you to your female bonding, but I have to say that I'm quite impressed at how calm you are, considering the latest news about August."

I blinked. "What news?"

Daphne cleared her throat. "She didn't watch the entire video."

My gaze popped back and forth between the two of them. "It doesn't matter. Whatever is going on in Prince August's life is none of my concern."

"So you would be perfectly fine if he were on his way over here right now to win you back?" Caleb asked.

"Wonderful—my brother is a comedian now," I told him, but deep down, I knew he rarely joked about matters of the heart—or, in this case, political alliances masquerading as potential romances.

Just then, my parents approached us on the terrace, both dressed in their formal attire. Father always looked dashing in his navy-blue ceremonial military uniform with the yellow sash across the chest. And Mother, as elegant as ever in her silk, ivory floor-length dress.

"I don't recall a formal event on the calendar," Caleb said.

"And when exactly was the last time you actually looked at the calendar?" Father asked him.

"Hmm . . . What year is it?"

With an amused smile, Mother said, "It's the diplomatic dinner with heads of state. Then we'll be heading to France."

I hesitated, but asked what was on my mind. "Are the rumors true? Are you negotiating with Queen Annabelle to marry me off again? I want you to know that I will not agree this time."

They exchanged a surprised glance, then my mother shook her head. "Goodness no, dear. We've learned our lesson. No more interfering."

"Your happiness is what matters, not political alliances," Father added. "It's your life, your choice."

"Thank you," I said, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "I was worried for a moment since Caleb said that Prince August was on his way here right now."

"Oh, that part is true," Mother said without missing a beat.

The news hit me like a sudden drop on a roller coaster, my stomach in my throat and my world upside down in an instant.

Prince August was coming to Kastonia.

"But why?" I asked. "He knows I want nothing to do with him."

"And since when have you known him to take no for an answer?" Father asked. "That's one of the things I admire about the man. When he wants something, he goes for it."

My father's insight into Prince August's determination only deepened my resolve. Admiration for his tenacity was one thing, but being the object of his unwanted desire was another thing entirely. My life felt like a chess game where I was a pawn, not a player. It was imperative that I took drastic action in order to rectify the situation. I was in absolute control of my life, and I would not let anyone change that.

"Please excuse us—there's something Daphne and I need to tend to." I stood and reached for her hand, then pulled her away from the curious eyes of my parents and the impertinent Caleb.

"What is going on?" she whispered urgently as we retreated down the hallway toward my chamber.

"I'll tell you in a moment." I shut the door behind us. "You asked if I fancied a vacation. I do."

"Because August is coming," she realized, not missing a beat.

I nodded. "You know I can't risk it."

August's charm and allure were so powerful, even a pendulum on a clock would forget to swing. Although I wanted nothing to do with him, I was smart enough to know I could not take a chance by being in his insipidly charming presence for an extended period.

"Count me in," Daphne answered without hesitation. "It's been a while since I have flown on the royal jet. I can't wait."

I shook my head. "The royal jet is not an option. My parents are flying to France after their dinner, remember?"

"Wait a minute …" Daphne's expression changed to sheer disbelief. "You want to travel on a public airline? With real people? I don't think that's such a good idea."

She sounded as if I'd suggested we butterfly stroke across the Atlantic.

"It's like taking a bus when you own a Rolls Royce, plus you'll attract too much attention," she added.

"It will be fine—we'll go incognito," I said. "Prince Oliver did it when he went to Los Angeles and not a soul recognized him when he went out to eat at a restaurant."

Daphne smiled as she nodded her head. "Ooooh! I love a disguise! This will be so fun! Do you think we have time to get good wigs and fun clothes?I have to say, I love this adventurous side of you."

"This is my paranoid side," I corrected her. "We need to get out of here, fast! And we'll have to use your credit card, since my purchases are traceable in the royal account. I'll reimburse you, of course."

"What are you in the mood for? London? Sydney? Vienna?" Daphne rattled off the destinations, her eyes wide with excitement.

I waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. We just need to escape. Take your pick."

Swept up in the spontaneity of our hastily hatched scheme, Daphne excitedly dug through her purse, retrieving her phone in an instant. Her fingers danced across the screen with practiced ease, scrolling and tapping as she scoured the internet for flights. Unfortunately, her initial excitement quickly soured.

"That's strange." Her brow furrowed as she intensified her search.

"What's going on?" I was perplexed by her sudden shift in demeanor.

Daphne shook her head, her frustration clear. "I can't find any flights that leave this evening."

"None?" I paused, considering. "That makes no sense. There's still plenty of time before the curfew kicks in."

Kastonia had long ago instituted a nighttime flight curfew. With most of its inhabitants and tourists within earshot of the airport runways, a strict no-flight policy had been implemented between the hours of 11 pm and 6 am. Despite the curfew being hours away, the search for flights proved fruitless, puzzling both Daphne and me.

"I think I know why," she said. "The film festival! Everyone must be trying to head back home at the same time."

The realization that we were competing with thousands of festival attendees for a way out of town before the curfew made sense, but added an unexpected twist to our already challenging adventure.

"You're right—that has to be it," I agreed. "But I find it hard to believe that one hundred percent of all flights out of Kastonia are booked. Forget about the most popular destinations. I really don't have the luxury of being picky at this point. Let's just go with the first flight out of the country. I don't care where it's going."

Daphne arched an eyebrow and said warily, "Anywhere?"

I nodded decisively. "Anywhere."

"Okay . . ." Daphne continued to tap and scroll on her phone, shaking her head in disappointment. "Come on, there has to be something."

I crossed my fingers, waiting.

Daphne suddenly looked up. "Okay, got it. There's a flight to Nairobi, Kenya that leaves in three hours."

"Africa? That's a little too adventurous for my taste this trip," I said. "Can you try finding something else a little less exciting?"

"Surely not the whole continent would be too adventurous for your taste?" Daphne continued scrolling through the flight schedules for what seemed like an eternity. "Well, that's it. I can't find anything else. What do you want to do? Should we find something that leaves in the morning?"

"Tomorrow is too late." I paced back and forth in my chamber, thinking, knowing that August would be there soon.

The clock was ticking.

I had run out of options.

"Book it—two first-class tickets to Nairobi," I finally said.

"You got it," Daphne said, then winced a moment later. "It appears that all the first-class seats are taken. In fact, it says there are only two seats left on the entire flight, in coach." She tapped a few seconds more. "Oh, look! This is great news! How lucky! There's a seat right by the restroom and food service at the back of the plane. You can have that seat and maintain privacy and enjoy the convenience." Her finger hovered excitedly over her phone. "You make the call."

I could not believe I was going to do this.

"Book it!" I practically yelled at her.

I began pacing again as Daphne focused on her phone, hoping she could reserve the last two seats on the flight before someone else did. Without another word, she confidently tapped in the information with her two thumbs like a pro. A couple of minutes later, a smile formed on her face.

"Booked!" she said. "It looks like you and I are going to Kenya."

I nodded. "I guess we are."

Booking a last-minute flight to a continent I'd never even considered visiting before today felt reckless. Especially since we didn't have a place to stay. And yet, here I was, throwing caution to the wind with Daphne by my side. The logical part of me whispered doubts, questioning the rashness of my choice.

"This is crazy," I said, half-expecting her to confirm my fears.

She chuckled, then put her arm around me for support. "Maybe a little crazy, but spontaneity is the spice of life."

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" I said. "Come in."

The chamber door swung open and Karl Gooseman, the Palace Head Steward, stepped inside, his posture rigid with formality. "Your Highness, pardon the interruption."

"Not a problem, Karl," I said, hoping he would make it quick since I needed to pack. "How may I help you?"

"Prince August is here to see you," he said. "He's waiting in the tearoom."

The walls seemed to close in on me, the air almost too stifling to breathe. My heart raced, and my thoughts spiraled as I tried to determine my next move. Luckily, it didn't take me long to figure it out.

"Please have the driver bring the car around to the side entrance of the palace," I said, knowing that the tearoom overlooked the driveway in the front and it needed to be avoided at all costs.

Karl hesitated, then asked, "I don't understand. What about Prince August?"

"Serve him some of his favorite blueberry scones," I responded. "Let him know that I'll be with him as soon as possible."

Which would be never.

"As you wish," Karl said, studying me. "If you don't mind me asking, is everything all right, Your Highness?"

I nodded. "Yes. Perfectly fine. We just need to run a quick errand."

A five-thousand-mile errand.

As Karl left my chamber, I couldn't shake the feeling that this impulsive escape could either be the adventure of a lifetime or a spectacular disaster.