By the time he reached the arena, the initial sting of betrayal had coalesced into a frustrated knot that wouldn’t leave Arne’s stomach. Part of him insistently argued that it was his own fault that he hadn’t asked Emma more about who she really was, that he’d given away his heart too fast and too fully. But she could have told him. She could have said something instead of letting him run around, looking like a fool for not seeing what was becoming increasingly obvious as he ran through the details of the last few days. He’d never seen Emma and Fuchsia in the same place at the same time, and ridiculous make-up or not, Emma’s eyes were unmistakable.

“Your Highness, there you are,” Sven greeted him at the door leading from the VIP garage—which was more than usually crowded with cars he recognized as belonging to his family—to the arena. “We’ve got major problems on our hands.”

“Tell me about it,” Arne replied, not intending to be facetious, but certain he came off that way.

Sven hurried him into the heart of the arena, blurting out a story of lax security and confused schedules for the security team that was supposed to be guarding the arena. Then they passed through a narrow corridor into the backstage area, and Arne practically tripped over his feet in shock. The entire, elaborate set was in shreds. It looked as though some mythological giant had come through with a sword and sliced everything to bits. Every last concern Arne had about Emma was blown straight from his mind.

“How the hell did this happen?” he said, gaping at the destruction.

“Nobody knows,” Sven answered.

“What are we going to do?” Arne turned at the sound of Marina’s frantic voice. His aunt charged across the stage to him, her expensive heels clicking. “This is terrible. The concert can’t go on like this.”

Alek and Kristoff were right behind Marina. Both looked as serious as if war had been declared.

“I think she’s right,” Kristoff said. “It not only looks bad, it could be dangerous.”

“I don’t think it’s dangerous,” Alek countered. “I’ve been up in the fly space. None of the structure has been damaged, just the backdrops and set pieces.”

“Who could do such a thing, and why?” Marina asked, genuine anger in her voice. She answered her own question a heartbeat later with a click of her tongue and, “I bet it was those Americans, that Fuchsia. I bet they arranged this to feed off the publicity, as if we’re some third-rate kingdom that can be trifled with and used that way.”

Arne rested a hand on her arm. “I don’t think that’s it, Aunt Marina.” Although Hoss had known about the destruction awfully early. What if he’d known about him and Emma and had caused the destruction as a way to keep them apart?

He shook his head. “Let’s not go around laying blame now,” he said. His mother and Dr. Hayes walked into the back of the arena, surrounded by bodyguards, and stopped to survey the damage. Arne headed for the stairs that would take him off the stage so that he could reach them. “We have to figure out what to do about this,” he said, voice raised so everyone in the huge space could hear him.

Marina, his brothers, and Sven all followed him through the rows of arena seating—blessedly still intact—to where Viktoria and Dr. Hayes stood, gazing around with open mouths and distressed expressions.

“Do you want to cancel the concert?” Arne asked when he reached them.

Viktoria drew in a long, shaky breath. She reached for Dr. Hayes’s hand as she let it out. The couple’s eyes met, and Arne had the feeling an entire discussion was going on without him. It sent a twist of pain through his heart. He wanted that. He wanted that closeness, that connection. For one whole night, he thought he’d had that with Emma. He hated feeling like a fool.

“The concert has to go forward,” his mother said at last, though her voice was filled with uncertainty. “Although we could figure out a smaller way to do it. Perhaps not here, but in one of the television studios in the city.”

“But none of them are big enough,” Marina argued. “None of them can fit the children’s choir, for example, let alone that awful American and all her…stuff.”

“She’s not that awful,” Arne mumbled. Only part of him wanted to defend Emma.

Marina glanced at him, her sculpted eyebrows pulling together in a frown of calculation.

“Sven, can the damage here be undone in time for the concert tonight?” Viktoria asked.

Sven shrugged. “My crew could clean up the stage, dispose of the debris, but sets like that take weeks to build.”

“Is there anything you could use as a backdrop?” Dr. Hayes asked. “Even if it’s plain?”

Sven rubbed a hand over his face. “We have all sorts of backdrops in the fly space.”

Inspiration hit Arne. “Do you have a plain white drop? Like a screen?”

Sven’s eyes widened. “Projection,” he said. “The equipment is already installed.”

“You just need to figure out what images to project onto the screen,” Kristoff said, catching on.

“Does it do photos?” Alek asked. “We’ve got a ton of official photos and stuff from our family vacations we could use.”

“It’s all digital,” Sven said. “If you send me the files, I can have one of my guys put together a slideshow in a matter of hours.”

“Hours is all we have,” Arne said, checking his phone for the time. His heart sank when he saw no messages waiting. It wasn’t that he was hoping Emma would pursue him or try to explain. She had enough on her plate. The problems at the arena would affect her, too. But something, an apology, even a text yelling at him for being so feint-hearted, would have been nice. He glanced up at the others. “Do whatever you need to. This concert will go on tonight no matter what we have to do.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Marina asked as Sven, Alek, and Kristoff marched off. She didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic, but that was just Marina.

“If you could call all the opening acts and make sure they know what’s going on, but that the concert is still happening, that would be great.” He gave her arm an affectionate squeeze.

“I can have one of my people do it,” she said, settling her shoulders into a regal posture. She nodded then turned away and pulled out her phone.

“I can help with the technicalities of the clean-up,” Dr. Hayes said. “Unless you need me.” He turned to Viktoria.

“No, my love. Go ahead and do what you need to do.” She smiled at Dr. Hayes. The two of them kissed—a little more passionately than Arne wanted to see—and he marched off, stumbling over his feet as he went.

Since Marina was absorbed in her phone call, that left Arne alone with his mother.

“I’m sorry about all this, Mother. I know how important this concert is to you and Dr. Hayes.”

“I wish you’d start calling him Will. I’d even settle for William.”

“Sorry. I had to call him Dr. Hayes all through growing up, so….” He let his sentence drop with a frown.

Viktoria stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Something else is bothering you. I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s nothing,” Arne grumbled.

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I’m your mother. And while I may not have been the best mother Aegiria has ever seen, I know my children.” She stared hard at him. “What has you wound so tight.”

Arne rubbed a hand over his face. His mother was right. She hadn’t been the best mother ever. He’d always been much closer with Marina, since his mother was so busy being queen and running a country. But she had tried to make up for that in the past few years. She was trying, and so should he.

“I’m feeling a little betrayed is all,” he ground out reluctantly.

“Betrayed?” Viktoria blinked. “Vandalism is upsetting, but I don’t think it’s a betrayal.”

“Not about that.” He sighed. “I found out this morning that Emma is Fuchsia.”

There was a pause as Viktoria stared at him, her eyes wide. Then she burst into laughter. “You mean, you didn’t know?”

Arne gaped at her. “Are you saying you did?”

Viktoria went on laughing. “Yes, dear. I knew it from the moment you brought her aboard the yacht. It’s obvious, really.”

A sting of sheepishness joined the gloomy feeling in Arne’s gut. “It wasn’t obvious to me.” He let out a breath and shifted his stance. “I met Emma first, at the bar in the VIP lounge at Heathrow. We hit it off. I assumed one of her entourage was the real Fuchsia. And with all that make-up and those costumes, you have to admit, she looks entirely different.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Viktoria squeezed his arm. “She looks like Emma with a wild costume.”

“Come on, Mom. She doesn’t look even a little bit the same. Admit it.”

Viktoria shook her head. “Why are you so upset? I thought the two of you really hit it off.”

Marina finished her call and turned, stepping closer and listening in.

Arne acknowledged her with a look. There was no point in keeping things from Marina if he was telling his mother anyhow. “We did hit it off,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “I’ve never felt the way I feel with Emma before.”

“Do you love her?” Marina asked, startled.

Arne couldn’t answer. Did he? He was afraid he did, although admitting to such an intimate emotion so soon after meeting her, and after being betrayed by her, didn’t feel like the mature and responsible thing to do.

“I think,” he said, then rubbed his face again. “But what can I do about it? She didn’t tell me she was Fuchsia. How can I trust her now?”

“Emma is Fuchsia?” Marina balked.

“See,” Arne told his mom. “Not everyone is as perceptive as you.”

“Arne. Are you dating her?” Marina asked seriously.

“Not exactly.”

“Sweetheart,” Viktoria said. “Why are you giving Emma such a hard time? As I understand it, stars like that have all sorts of contracts and legal obligations that keep them from revealing too much.”

Arne winced. Emma did have a contract like that. But still.

Viktoria leaned closer to him. “Are you sure you weren’t just seeing what you wanted to see because of all the anti-American backlash this concert and my relationship with Willy has brought up?”

The guilt that had been sitting in Arne’s stomach flared. Was that it? He’d been resistant to the idea of Fuchsia right from the start. Falling in love with the thing he’d campaigned so hard against represented a strange but definite blow to his pride. Was that what all of his reservations were about?

“I don’t know, Mom,” he said, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Well, let me give you a bit of advice.” Viktoria stepped closer to him. “Love cannot be denied. And it has nothing to do with nationality or identity. We love whom we love, and not even the combined forces of nature can stop that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Arne caught Marina raising a hand to her mouth, her eyes glassy. Not for the first time, he wondered about his aunt’s love life and why she’d never married. It dawned on him that his mother was far more courageous than he’d given her credit for to pursue love when so many people were against it.

“This concert has to happen,” he said with renewed energy. “Your announcement has to happen. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure of that.” He leaned forward to kiss his mom’s cheek.

“Thank you, son,” she answered.

He nodded to her, then to Marina, then turned to head back toward the stage. Emma, Fuchsia, or no, he owed it to the people of Aegiria to make sure they fell in love with the royal couple.

Nothing was going right. It was like some sort of crazy curse that kept Emma from putting one foot in front of the other. After Arne left, Hoss spent a good long while yelling at her for everything from letting her guard down to costing him money. The one thing he couldn’t pin on her, though, was revealing who she really was.

“I didn’t breathe a word to him about Fuchsia,” she hissed deep into their argument, just around the point where she was about to walk out on everything for good. “Tracy can back that up for me.”

“Yeah, she was very good about keeping things under wraps,” Tracy confirmed for her, looking highly uncomfortable as she and the rest of the crew hung back on the edges of the argument.

“You’re the one who revealed the truth, so I’m not in violation of my contract,” Emma had finished.

Hoss glared at them all. “This isn’t about the contract,” he finally conceded. It was as much an admission of fault as Emma had ever heard from Hoss. “You’ve got an image to uphold, and that doesn’t involve bagging playboy princes, okay?”

He stormed out of the suite before Emma could stop him or further the argument. But that didn’t mean her problems were over.

“Come on,” Tracy said, getting up from the chair she’d watched the whole confrontation from. “Let’s get you in costume.”

The next hour was spent going through what was left of Fuchsia’s wardrobe to figure out what would work for the concert. The problem was that almost all of the concert costumes were at the arena, and if what Hoss had reported was correct, they were destroyed. The bits and pieces they managed to throw together at the hotel were pitiful at best.

“This isn’t going to work,” Emma sighed after a fruitless hour. “Someone has to go over to the arena to see if anything at all was spared.”

“I’ll go,” Beth said, jumping to volunteer. “I want to see if my supplies are still there anyhow. I have a bad feeling Hoss was including make-up, wigs, and accessories when he said everything was ruined.”

Beth headed out, which left Emma, Tracy, and a couple of bored bodyguards to sit tight in the suite, like useless bumps on logs. They ate breakfast, watched some tv, then ate lunch. Emma’s phone was strangely silent. Tracy wandered off to make a few calls of her own after lunch, when they both started to feel the ticking of the clock.

“Come on,” Emma muttered to herself as one o’clock started to stretch on to two o’clock. “Someone’s got to know something.”

She was due at the arena at three to begin preparations for the concert, which would start at seven that night. It took more than an hour to get into her Fuchsia costume, and if the stage had been destroyed, she needed to get a look at what was left. She needed to rehearse, to check in with her staff. She needed to see Arne, although for entirely different reasons.

As two o’clock rolled around, she checked her phone for the hundredth time. Beth had messaged again to say things were bad at the arena. The costumes were useless, and her make-up was destroyed. Hoss called a few times to shout about the stupidity of Aegiria and to warn her not to go out as Emma, but to get to the arena as soon as possible. He refused to listen to her telling him that was next door to impossible. There were a few messages from other members of her crew and a couple from the manager of the arena, but not once did Arne contact her.

Her heart sank. Arne. She ached to sit him down and explain things. She would slap sense into him if she had to, but really, her heart just wanted to do whatever it took to make him understand. She loved him, and he’d said he loved her. It was crazy and new and ill-advised, but she couldn’t deny it. Losing him only made the feelings stronger. If she could just explain, if she could find a way to make things better….

A knock at the hotel room door startled her and her bodyguards. One of them got up to answer, and as he did, Emma stood. She brushed her hands over her jeans and checked her hair. The bodyguard opened the door to reveal Princess Marina. Emma blinked, startled by the regal woman’s appearance.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Princess Marina stepped into the room, giving the bodyguards a dismissive look. “We’d like a little privacy,” she said.

The body guards exchanged looks, then glanced to Emma. Tracy looked up from her current phone call.

Emma sighed. “Could you guys wait outside? And Trace, could you take that call into the bedroom.”

“Sure thing,” Tracy said.

The guys headed out to the hall, leaving Emma alone with Princess Marina.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Emma rephrased her earlier question, approaching Princess Marina with caution.

“Yes.” Princess Marina crossed her arms. “You can stay away from my nephew.”

Emma’s face heated in an instant. She had to fight not to hang her head. “This is the part where I say it’s Arne’s business who he wants to be with and not yours.”

“And this is the part where I tell you that he’s a royal prince with a public image and responsibilities to uphold,” Princess Marina answered without hesitation. “Of course, you would know all about public image, wouldn’t you, Fuchsia?”

Emma let out a breath, settling her weight on one hip. “So I guess the secret is out.”

“The secret is still publicly a secret, and we’re going to keep it that way, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question.

Emma narrowed her eyes. “If you’re not going to tell the world who I am, then why does it matter how Arne and I feel about each other? I’m leaving tomorrow. I have to.” Her heart sank at the thought, and at the truth that she would likely be forced to leave with so many things unresolved.

Princess Marina relaxed. “Good. Leave. Because the last thing this family and this country needs right now is for some jumped-up rock star using my nephew to make her own headlines.”

“I happen to care deeply about Arne,” Emma protested, walking closer to the woman.

“After a handful of days?” Princess Marina arched her eyebrow.

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

Princess Marina made a derisive sound. “Believe what you want to believe, but know this—fun as this fling with my nephew may be, you’re temporary. You’re not princess material. As soon as you’re gone, Arne will move on. So why don’t you just save us all the trouble and drop the whole thing?”

Something wasn’t right. Princess Marina never would have deigned to come to her hotel room if Arne hadn’t said something to her. She wouldn’t have known unless Arne had talked. And whatever Arne had said, it couldn’t have been completely negative, otherwise why would a princess bother pestering a lowly rock star?

For the first time all day, hope swirled up in Emma’s chest. “If Arne wants to be with me, then it doesn’t matter what you say. And if I want to be with him, even if I leave, I’ll come back.” In fact, as soon as she completed the obligations currently on her plate where Fuchsia was concerned, she had half a mind to look at ways of getting out of her contract and leaving Fuchsia behind forever.

“You’re not suitable,” Princess Marina said, voice firm and expression flat. “No one in this family seems to know what suitable is anymore.”

Emma cocked her head to the side. “Is that so? How about you? Haven’t you ever loved someone who was unsuitable before?”

Princess Marina’s face went red, and her jaw hardened. Emma felt a rush of victory. There it was. That was the problem. Princess Marina wasn’t there to save her kingdom from the plight of Americans. She was jealous, plain and simple. She didn’t want her favorite nephew paying attention to anyone other than her.

“I tell you what,” Emma went on, approaching Princess Marina. “Instead of coming here to warn me off of a brand-new relationship with a man who might be too angry with me to pursue anything, why don’t you chase after whatever love it is that’s making you blush like that?”

“I’m not blushing,” Princess Marina protested, visibly flustered. “I’m not in love with anyone.”

“Your body language tells a different story,” Emma insisted.

“I am not in love.” Marina raised her voice. “And besides, it was a long time ago.”

Emma grinned. “It’s not too late, you know. It’s never too late for love.”

“It’s too late for you,” Princess Marina snapped. “Arne won’t forgive you for deceiving him. So why don’t you just pack up and go home.”

“I have a concert to give,” Emma said. “I’ll fulfill my obligations, and then I’ll move on to the next obligation.”

“If the concert tonight happens at all. Things are looking bleak at the arena.”

“Then I need to get over there right away.” Emma turned away from her, striding to the bedroom to fetch Tracy.

“Excuse me, I’m not done with you yet,” Princess Marina called after her.

“But I’m done with you. You can see yourself out.”

“I’m a royal princess of Aegiria.”

“And I’m an international rock star with a concert to get to and very little time left,” Emma shot back.

Princess Marina made a frustrated sound, but Emma was done with her. There was too much on the line to waste her time arguing with a frustrated spinster. Especially if there was even a glimmer of hope that Arne was still thinking about her and that he might forgive her.

She knocked on the bedroom door. “Tracy, we need to get moving.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tracy called, opening the door.

As the two of them gathered their things and prepared to leave, Princess Marina stormed out. Emma glanced up to watch her huff her way through the door. She hoped that whatever was driving the woman to be so hurtful could be resolved. But more than that, she hoped the trouble that seemed to pop up all around her would resolve itself, the sooner the better.