The ornate gowns of the women glittered like stars under the bright chandeliers, and their smiles were equally bright. They all laughed at the perfect pitch, their hands placed just so—delicate and graceful—on their companions’ arms as they were swept around the room. Not a single one of them tripped on their ridiculously strappy heels or clutched at their date to keep from swaying too hard and knocking over a waiter with a tray full of drinks or accidently caught their hair on fire.

Cassandra Hayes slouched between a potted plant and the bar, hating every single one of them.

“Perk up, Jellybean. You’re at a party!” Her father nudged her, the other hand cradling his second vodka tonic of the night. “My party!”

Her scowl deepened, and she rubbed her side through the black taffeta where Dad’s tuxedo-clad elbow had dug into her skin. “Yeah, but I know you. You hate these kinds of parties as much as I do. Why couldn’t you have talked the queen into a barbeque down on the beach?”

Dad snorted. “Because Vicki wanted an engagement ball. Waltzing, formal seated dinner, the whole works.”

They both shuddered in unison.

“So you should be glad I talked her into a fun party to celebrate the engagement,” he said, smiling the the fool in love he was.

“Fun?” Cassandra countered, looking around at the cocktail gowns and the jewels and she was pretty sure that one woman was wearing a dress made out of gold. “This shin-dig is anything but fun.”

Dad saluted her with his drink. “It is with a few of these. Do you know Aegiria has a national vodka? They make it here, in-country.”

Out of fish? Cassandra knew her misery was making her snarky, so she didn’t say it out loud. Their new island nation home did grow other stuff besides seafood…even if it was a fish-based economy. Besides, it was the fish which had brought Dad here in the first place.

Dr. William Hayes was one of the world’s preeminent environmental scientists, specializing in marine biology and conservation. He’d come to Aegiria for the first time years ago to study the unique ecosystems around the coast, and had returned often, traveling between here and Cassandra’s childhood home in Boston, USA.

Then, a few years ago, Dad had been offered a distinguished honor by Queen Viktoria of Aegiria: the position of her Science Advisor. Thanks to her fourth son—who was a big fan of Dad’s work—Cass had come to realize how important understanding the country’s relationship with the fishing stock was to their future. Dad and Prince Mikael enacted legislature to protect the cute little trout or whatever the hell they were, and everything was hunky-dory.

Then he had to go and fall in love with the queen.

So now the monarch of an entire nation referred to Dad as “Willy” and he called her “Vicki” and they held hands in public and were disgustingly adorable. They’d just announced their engagement to the country at a huge concert—highlighted by a performance from one of Cassandra’s favorite rock stars—and were now having this “fun” party.

Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“I saw that, Jellybean.”

“Don’t call me that, Dad, it’s embarrassing.”

“Because you don’t like being sweet?”

“Because I don’t like being round and full of sugar.”

“So ‘JellyBelly’ is out, too?” He sipped his drink.

She rolled he eyes again, her attention on the glittering swirl of Aegiria’s upper classes before her. “I’m old enough now to know you only do that to annoy me. But I swear to God, if you say that name where anyone else can hear it, I’ll tell them all about your Star Wars doll collection.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw her father choke on his drink. In typical William Hayes manner, he spit the vodka back into the glass. Actually spit it back in.

At least I come by it honestly.

“They’re collector’s figurines, Cassie. And I’m about to be a queen’s consort. You can’t go bandying about information like that.”

“Look, Dad, let’s just agree we’ve both got a lot of dirt on each other that would make us look bad to these people” —even worse, I mean— “and make a pact to never again speak of these things.”

Dad held up his pinkie. “Promise.”

She sighed and, after darting her eyes around to make sure no one was watching too closely, hooked her own pinkie around his. “Promise.”

He dropped his arm, his finger still holding hers, and began to swing their hands back and forth like she was still in grade school. “So, you want me to get you one of these?” He waggled his drink. “It might make the party more fun for you.”

She snorted quietly. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Why not?”

Eight months ago, when her history master’s program had ended, Cassandra had moved to Aegiria to be with her father. Her brothers thought she was nuts—and maybe she was—but she didn’t like the idea of her Dad all alone, surrounded by all these rich, snooty types. He had a tendency to be clumsy and inarticulate, thanks to literally decades stuck in his laboratory studying the mating habits of shrimp or whatever it was he did.

But when she’d arrived, she’d seen that not only was the Royal court pretty tolerant of his bumbling, thanks to his respected position, the queen absolutely doted on him. There was no need for Cassandra to rush to his rescue, and she’d had to scramble to find a job to give herself something to do.

And unfortunately, the longer she stayed in Aegiria’s capital city with all these fancy elite people, the more chances there were for her to make a fool of herself.

“Let’s just say that I don’t need alcohol to be silly.” She had the uncanny ability to walk into door jambs, stumble into tables set with delicate twelve-piece place settings, and one time accidentally poke the ambassador from Spain in the eye with her umbrella.

No, I definitely don’t need vodka.

“Well, take this one anyhow, would you?”

Cassandra didn’t have a chance to ask what her father meant before he’d thrust his drink glass—spit and all—into her hands. She jerked out of the way to avoid splashing vodka on her entirely unsuitable poofy dress, and in doing so crashed into the potted plant.

Thank God the thing was sturdy enough to withstand Hurricane Cass.

She’d just begun to glare at Dad when she saw what had him so flustered. Sailing towards them like a brigantine was the queen of Aegiria, Cassandra’s soon-to-be stepmom.

Swell.

“Darling!” William Hayes bowed elegantly and captured his fiancée’s hand in his, placing a kiss on her fingers. “You’ve finally returned to me!”

To Cassandra’s surprise, the queen giggled like a teenager, her free hand fluttering around her throat which was heating with a blush. “Oh, William!”

And that’s when Dad turned the queen’s hand over and placed a loud, wet kiss on the woman’s palm, pulled her in for an entirely embarrassing kiss, and Cassandra’s attention slammed upwards to the chandelier while she recited the kings of Norway in her head.

After some moist noises beside her, the older couple seemed to remember her. “Oh, hello dear!” Queen Viktoria exclaimed.

Cassandra peeked over, and when she saw they were done kissing, she tried for a curtsey. Dad had purchased them both etiquette lessons when he realized how much time they’d be spending at Court—which, as far as she could recall, hadn’t included loud palm-smooching, but whatever—but she rarely remembered how to use them. Today, holding Dad’s drink, it was a miracle she didn’t trip on her pointy shoes and fall on her face.

Again.

But Viktoria just waved dismissively. “Don’t be silly, Cassie. This isn’t a formal occasion, just family and close friends.”

Looking around at what had to be a hundred people all talking at once, Cassandra repeated doubtfully, “Close friends?”

“Yes, dear. We have many friends. And your father requested an informal gathering, so we did our best to comply.”

Cassandra wasn’t sure if that was the royal “we” or not, so she just nodded.

“Besides, curtseys are for those of lower rank. We’re about to become family.” With that, the queen leaned in and kissed Cassandra’s cheek—gracefully, of course. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”

Too stunned by her welcome to respond, Cassandra just nodded.

Dad, on the other hand, knew exactly the wrong thing to say to break up that sweetness. “Looks like you’re about to get at least one, huh?” he said, nodding to two of Viktoria’s sons, dancing with their girlfriends.

Thanks a lot, Dad.

All three of them turned their attention to Crown Prince Alek and Prince Arne. Like all of Viktoria’s sons, they were drop-dead gorgeous. Both of them had dark hair and chiseled features, and had always struck Cassandra as aloof. Or maybe it was just that she turned into a blithering bowl of uselessness whenever she attempted to speak to either of them.

Alek was pressed against his bodyguard Toni, and she looked like she was very serious about guarding his body. She wore a black dress, same as Cassandra, but whereas Cass’s was big and dumb—taffeta, I mean, honestly!—Toni’s was sleek and dangerous. She’d been raised on a ranch out in Idaho, but had joined the Army and then a private security firm before becoming Alek’s bodyguard. And when he was kidnapped earlier this summer, she’d been part of the rescue, and the two of them came out of it passionately attached to one another. Viktoria approved of her oldest son’s choice of the future queen of Aegiria.

Arne, meanwhile, was dancing enthusiastically with his lady-love—“girlfriend” just seemed like a stupid word when one was referring to princes—Emma. That was how she’d been introduced to the family, at least, but Cassandra knew her from her younger years as “Fuchsia,” the hottest, most artificial rock star to hit the Top Ten eight times in five years. When the queen had suggested a public concert and celebration to formally announce her engagement to William, Dad had immediately remembered her love of Fuchsia, and suggested inviting her.

Cassandra, for her part, hadn’t protested too hard when her father had insisted her college-music-scene idol show up in Aegiria and do a show. It had been cool to see her in person, and even cooler to hear Emma’s stories about life as a rock star.

Emma and Toni might not be the kind of women who became best friends with an introverted klutz like Cassandra, but they were nice. And now they were the envy of every single female in the kingdom.

Well, all except the ones who’d been drooling over one of the other princes. Like Kristoff.

“Yes, I’m just thrilled.”

The queen’s comment dragged Cassandra out of the naughty place her brain always went when she was thinking about the long-haired third prince of Aegiria, and she frantically tried to remember what they’d been talking about.

She couldn’t.

Dang.

Dad unexpectedly came to her rescue when he bowed and held his hand out to Viktoria for a dance. “Would you do me the honor, m’lady?”

Cassandra swallowed her bark of incredulous laughter, and watched the queen blush again. Did Dad even know how to dance?

“I would be honored, Willy.” She smiled at Cassandra. “I hope you don’t mind me stealing your father, my dear?” At Cass’s mute head-shake, she smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure one of my sons would be pleased to keep you company.”

She lifted her hand, and that’s when a clump of party-goers moved out of the way, and Cassandra saw the group of impeccably dressed, stunningly sexy men the older woman was about to wave to. The princes.

The four of them were gorgeous, all different—except the twins—but all perfect in their own ways. And the eldest of that group—with his longish blonde hair—was the most perfect, most attractive, most primitively sexy man Cassandra had ever met. With great muscles too.

Kristoff.

Great googly-moogly, I would love to get my hands on him! The queen’s third son had the whole Chris-Hemsworth, Viking-god-lookalike thing going on, and Cass had been drooling over him for months.

“No!” she lunged for the queen’s hand and grabbed it in one of hers, dragging it down. Ugh, she could not allow Viktoria to draw Kristoff’s attention to her, lurking like an idiot behind this plant. Or, like, ever.

When the older woman turned a confused look her way, one regal eyebrow raised gracefully, Cassandra knew her blush was enough to light a fire. She’d just grabbed a monarch’s hand. High-five, idiot.

Fortunately—or probably unfortunately—she’d managed to spill some of Dad’s drink down the stupid dress in her wild lunge. She smiled weakly.

“I mean, don’t worry about me. I’ll just, um…” She stretched and placed the glass on the bar, grabbing a napkin on her way back. “Tonic water will come right out, I’m sure.” She made a big deal out of patting the front of her dress, sighing dramatically as she did so. “You two go have fun. I’ll clean up and then, uh…mingle.” As if she knew anything about mingling.

Viktoria’s smile was a bit too understanding, but Dad looked oblivious as always. They both nodded, then wrapped themselves around each other—gross—and made their way out from Cassandra’s hidden nook.

She breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed herself back behind the potted plant once more. Maybe back here, the shadows would hide her, if the dress didn’t poof out too much.

I definitely don’t belong here.

 

“Oh, God,” Johan groaned into his beer. “They’re going to kiss.”

Kristoff was standing, his hip propped against one of the room’s many columns, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched his older brothers dancing. He frowned, trying to figure out who his youngest brother was talking about.

But Johan’s twin seemed to know—big surprise. “Yep,” agreed Viggo cheerfully. “And there they go!”

Alek and Toni were still pressed together, and Arne and Emma were smiling stupidly at one another, but neither were—Oh.

The twins had been talking about Mom. Mom, and her dorky fiancé, Dr. William Hayes. The happy couple had just locked lips right there in the middle of their party.

Lighten up, it’s their engagement party, Kristoff told himself. And besides, it hadn’t been more than a little peck.

If it had been more, Viggo probably would’ve started hooting and throwing beer bottles. He was the only one less suited to royal life than Kristoff himself was. Of course, he’d always suspected the scoundrel did his best to play up that reputation and was really quite a decent guy beneath all that irreverence and scandal. Otherwise his twin would’ve murdered him long ago.

Besides, for every straight-laced Alek and Johan, there needed to be brothers like Kristoff and Viggo.

We’re probably why Mom’s hair went grey so early.

“I don’t know what she sees in him, but I’m happy for her,” Viggo said good-naturedly, taking another swig of his beer.

“If you spent any time with him,” Mack said quietly, “you’d understand. He’s a good man. Brilliant and kind.”

“And bumbling,” Johan said with a wince as their soon-to-be stepdad stepped on their mother’s toes.

“A trait he passed on to his daughter, the poor thing.” Viggo lifted his stein in a slight gesture, referencing the dark corner by the bar.

His daughter. Kristoff’s gazed pierced the shadows until he saw his soon-to-be stepsister dabbing at her dress with a cocktail napkin.

Viggo clucked. “What is she wearing?”

“Oh, don’t be mean,” Mack said. “She looks lovely.”

“Taffeta? A woman her size needs something slimming.”

“Shut up, Viggo.”

Kristoff mentally agreed with Mack. Cassandra Hayes was lovely.

But Viggo wasn’t done. “Hey, I can appreciate all ladies in all sizes. But I can also appreciate fashion. I understand the black, to be inconspicuous, but the cut of that dress is all wrong.”

Kristoff’s gaze flicked to his brother. “Shut up, Viggo,” he repeated.

He’d only met Cassandra a few times, and she’d struck him as shy and nervous. He wasn’t sure if it was just the circumstances they’d found themselves in—Kristoff was a prince, and she was about to become a step-princess, or whatever the term was—or if she was always so skittish. But he didn’t think she had any reason to be.

She was pretty, with her thick brown hair and rich chocolaty eyes, and he had to admit he didn’t mind looking at her curves. She was a little curvier than was fashionable, but she’d been wearing a t-shirt that time he’d run into her at the gym on her way from the treadmills, and the memory of the way that cotton had molded to her sports bra had made him stare thoughtfully after her for a while.

“But maybe it’s a good thing she’s hanging over there in that corner,” Johan said thoughtfully. “I think one Hayes on the dance floor is all we can handle.”

The joke, from usually reserved Johan, made Mack grin. “Remember the New Year’s Eve ball? When Cassandra turned around and ran into Chancellor Rasmussen, and when she was busy explaining, she backed into the poor guy holding that tray of champagne? I was so embarrassed for her.”

Kristoff hadn’t been in the room for that, but he’d made sure to figure out who the servant had been, and tip him extra for having to clean up the mess. “It’s not her fault,” he found himself defending her. “We can’t all be graceful or light on our feet.”

“Or light at all,” Viggo quipped.

“Shut up,” Kristoff growled.

Two of his brothers chuckled at his irritation, but he didn’t bother turning to see which ones.

The third of six brothers, he’d never been quite sure what his place was. Alek, Arne and Mack all had roles in the government of Aegiria, and important roles at that. Johan did too, even though he was the youngest. Of course Viggo didn’t, but no one had ever expected anything from him—Kristoff expected that’s why Viggo goofed off as much as he did. He was freer than any of them.

But Kristoff… He wasn’t the heir, he wasn’t even the spare. But he was old enough—a year older than Mack, who at least had that pencil-pushing admin job for Mom—and there wasn’t anything about him that made him special. Oh, he could beat the snot out of any of them, but his rock-climbing ability, or record open-swim time, or any of his other hobbies didn’t make him a good prince.

Anyone could do those things.

“Hey, you want a beer?” Viggo asked, finishing his. “Next round’s on me.”

“It’s Mom’s party,” Mack said with an eye-roll. “The beer is free.”

“I know,” Viggo quipped. “That’s why I offered.”

Kristoff waved them away, as all three of his brothers moved to the bar. He was content to lounge there against the pillar and brood. To his surprise, his gaze kept moving back to the far corner, where Cassandra was doing a poor job of hiding behind a plant.

Step-princess? Princess-by-marriage? Kristoff wasn’t sure what the word was, but for the first time since he’d met her, for the first time since Dr. Hayes and Mom had become engaged, he realized he very much wanted to find out.

He and his brothers were about to acquire a step-sister—and a few step-brothers, if he remembered Dr. Hayes’ file correctly—and he knew very little about her. Just that she had a part-time job down in Solrighavn, where she lived with her father. Kristoff assumed they’d both be moving to the palace after the wedding, but for now, she was basically a mystery.

And that was stupid, because she was about to become part of their family. He wondered who would know more about her, and her role. “Step-princess” was a mouthful, and surely there was a precedent. Maybe Ivan would be able to tell Kristoff more—the old steward knew everything about everything that went on in the palace.

Kristoff watched his brothers and mother dance with their respective partners, and he frowned slightly, his mind already elsewhere. He found himself curious about all sorts of things…

But especially Cassandra.