Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be stepping out of a limousine only to be stepping onto the cobblestone terrace before an actual fairy-tale palace. I think about my younger sisters at home, and smile to myself when I imagine the look on seven-year-old Kimberly’s face. She loves princesses so much, there’s no question about it—she’d be flipping out.

I pick my way across the bumpy terrace, cursing at myself for wearing the only decent pair of heels I own. It would be just my luck to trip and embarrass myself right at the feet of royalty.

A large fountain looms ahead, with a chiseled marble Adonis carrying a barrel full of water spilling out into the waters below, where dozens of small stone fish leap up out of the water at his feet. That’s one thing money can buy—the fanciest of fancy details. Even their front yard shouts power and prestige, down to the perfectly trimmed hedges along the side of the path. Or it would shout, if they weren’t so upper class. I should probably say it “strongly suggests” it.

How appropriate would it be for me to take a picture in front of the Neuberg Palace? The words of Miranda, my boss, echo in my head: “We at Velvet Rope Public Relations do not believe in being starstruck. Our number one asset is our clear-thinking agents and their ability to keep calm and professional in light of our business.”

Nope, probably not. Yet I can’t help wondering if something inside me, perhaps seven-year-old Elle, might be freaking out. Part of that could be because of my last-minute acceptance of the job that came up at Velvet Rope Public Relations, a PR company that’s known worldwide for dealing with royalty. Much to my mother’s dismay. If she had it her way, I’d still be stuck at home, working at the daycare center across the street.

Speaking of which… I pull out my flip phone, which I promise to myself I’ll replace as soon as I get enough money in the bank. I’m embarrassed that I still own one and can’t afford a smart phone just yet, but I purse my lips and punch in my mother’s number. Her voice is on the line almost instantly.

“I suppose you’ve made it there safely, then?” I can practically taste the disapproval in her tone.

“Yes. It’s beautiful here, Mom. You’d absolutely love it,” I say, slowly turning in circles to get a full view of the front gardens.

She clucks her tongue, sighing. “You know it’s never too late to catch the first flight back. I’ll even help you with it, if you’d like.”

I know Mom didn’t want me to leave, and in fact I accepted the job and packed only last night against her wishes. She thinks I’m too young for this kind of responsibility and that I don’t have it in me to deal with the public in the way that the Royal Family of Neuberg does. Besides, the company was desperate, so she might be right. I was the newest available, and hiring me was a risk for everyone. The company kept that information from the Royal Family however.

I figure everything will be fine. How hard can it be when my main workplace would be a summer camp? There’s no place I’d feel more at home. What I didn’t know was that before we leave for camp I’m going to be staying at the Neuberg Grand Palace. That adds a layer of complication.

“After all, who wants to deal with those bratty men, the nasty princes?” she snipes.

I try to keep from frowning, just in case anyone is secretly watching me. She does have a point though, especially since Princes Gedeon and Mischa are infamous for being the bad boy Mom. But it’s supposed to be my job, one that pays me very well, might I add? I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, and I’m thrilled finally to be putting my degree to work. You should be happy for me.”

“I know, I know, Elle. You know I just worry about you, especially since you’re my oldest. You’re the first one to fly the nest, and with your brothers and sisters here, I might be losing my mind a little without you.”

I can’t exactly blame her. I know handling five children while holding down a full-time job isn’t easy. Especially since my being here means I can’t help out. But I know my parents will make it work, and I have to learn to live my own life. “This isn’t a forever thing, just remember that. I’ll be back before you know it, and things will go back to normal I’m sure. Lickety-split.”

My mother agrees and quickly tells me she loves me, only for her to turn around and scream at one of my four younger siblings. I can’t help but stifle a laugh. Some things will never change.

I stuff my phone back into my simple black purse and smooth over my pants, catching a glimpse of movement from the top balcony farthest away from me. I shield my eyes but don’t see anything, and keep moving until I’m standing right in front of the large, ornate wooden doors that will lead me inside this crazy new part of my life. Tucking one more strand of smooth dark brown hair behind my ear, I raise my hand to knock.

Wait, do kings and queens even need a doorbell? My hand is still frozen in mid-air when the doors open seemingly automatically and an older woman with a stern face gestures at me to come in.

“Thank you,” I say to her as I walk past. I look around, wondering whether my luggage is already here somewhere in the bowels of this enormous place.

She merely curtsies her reply, her black and white traditional maid’s uniform bringing a quick smile to my face. And here I thought only maids in the movies wore them!

My first thought when I enter the giant, open space inside the palace is that if I yell really loudly it would probably echo for days. Then I quickly wipe the awed look from my face, careful to remember I’m not supposed to seem as impressed as I really am. But the more I take in, the more I notice the crystal twinkling here and there, the tapestries on the wall in bright vivid colors with different coats of arms representing the Royal Family on them, the marbled floors in the main entryway…the harder it is to fight.

Breathtaking doesn’t even begin to describe it. I had seen pictures of different rooms last night while I was doing my last-minute research. Nothing could quite prepare me for really being here, standing here in front of the grand marble staircase, gilded banisters lining it. How could someone live here and ever get used to this?

Plenty of people pass by, bustling from one room to the next, some of them carrying trays, some of them with cleaning supplies. The Royal Family must have a house staff, which shouldn’t surprise me but does anyway. I can’t imagine being waited on hand and foot by someone else, much less having a whole slew of people on the job.

“Miss? Please follow me to your room.”

The maid’s voice startles me. “Oh, yes, sorry!” I nod along, my heels clicking across the marble floor behind her as I jog to catch up, probably looking like a fool.

“Down the left hall, up the second marble staircase, the one with the angels on either side of it,” I mutter to myself as I follow, the maid turning her head toward me at the top of the stairs, giving me a weird look. “Sorry, I’m just trying to remember where we’re going. I’m terrible at directions, by the way,” I say, my face breaking out into an apologetic smile. She doesn’t react, and my cheeks burn hotter.

Once we turn right, she stops at the second door on the left, next to a large painting of a mother and her baby that has to be from at least two centuries ago. “Here we are, miss.”

“Oh, and do you know if my things are . . . here?” My jaw drops in earnest as she opens the door to the room, the room that’s easily three or four times the size of my room back home. There, up against the foot of the most lush and comfortable-looking bed I’ve ever seen, are my two suitcases and duffel bag.

“Um, thank you,” I manage to squeak out, my voice barely above a whisper as she shuts the door behind me.

I should make the most of this job. I’ll work my hardest, do my best, and try to make my boss, Miranda, proud. But more importantly, I’ll try to make myself proud.

Besides, this will be my only chance at sleeping in a royal king-sized bed, complete with what’s that? Oh, just silk linens. No big deal.

Mischa

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

Gedeon leans against the door frame, rolling his eyes at me.

“No, Ged, I’m serious. Look at her!” I say, gesturing to the young, plain-looking woman who has just been let inside the palace doors. “How the hell do they expect someone that looks like that to help?”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic, Mischa? There’s nothing wrong with her. She seems like she might be very polite,” my twin brother replies as he pulls himself away, walking back inside my room.

This time it’s me rolling my eyes. He would try and give her the benefit of the fucking doubt here. “Seems like she might be very polite?” I repeat, chuckling darkly. “Yeah, because that’s what we need. Someone who’s very polite and would easily break after talking to me for even a few minutes.”

I don’t know how my parents found this girl, but they need to rethink their decision. There’s no way in hell I can believe someone can improve my image with the public who doesn’t even seem to give a damn about her own image.

“Yes, of course. Because you’re such a badass,” Gedeon’s voice floats over from the other side of the room as I slam the balcony door shut.

The corner of my mouth curls up as I glare at him. “I’m glad that you finally noticed, brother.”

He runs his fingers over the piano keys, not enough to make much of a melody, completely lost in thought. Gedeon has a bad tendency to check out of a conversation before you even realize what’s going on. Whenever I bring this up with him he always laughs and plays it off, cheekily telling me how it never seems to bother the ladies, especially when he gets lost inside of them.

“Everything all right?” I ask, coming up behind him.

He takes a moment to reply, “Yeah, I’m just thinking of this whole summer camp we’re supposed to be doing to improve our images. What’s your opinion of it?”

The laughter spills out of me, unable to contain itself. “Seriously? I’m sure you know what I think about it,” I say, grabbing my crotch to help emphasize my opinion. We both laugh together, knowing just how ridiculous the whole thing is.

And mortifying.

Our parents, or King Alban and Queen Lavinia to the rest of the world, seem to think we’ve been naughty boys. This is such a big deal to them that they actually hired a public relations agent to come work with us. The agency that hired her suggested that we volunteer to work at a local children’s summer camp, with their PR agent helping us along the way.

Yes, because two grown men of royalty working at a children’s summer camp makes perfect sense. When our mother announced their rather ridiculous plan, I promptly took the yacht that Gedeon and I own out to sea and got rip-roaring drunk with a few dozen of my friends. I don’t remember too much of that weekend, but I know it ended in a magnificent screaming match between my father and me.

Regardless of Gedeon’s antics and mine, it’s insane to think that somehow this woman, this ugly duckling if you will, has the power to change us for the better. This isn’t some damn fairy tale, and I’m not about to have my parents treat me as if I’m still a child. “We need to shut this shit down. Now.”

After quietly begging me to see reason, Gedeon shrugs his shoulders and follows along as I head downstairs to our father’s throne room, where I know he is currently going over foreign affairs with a couple of his advisors, leaving the young woman’s arrival up to our mother.

“Father,” I say as I enter the room, bowing. Gedeon copies me, and we both walk up to the edge of the steps where our father holds up his finger, letting us know he’ll be with us shortly.

“And gentlemen, if you wouldn’t mind, it appears my sons would like to have a chat with me. As you were.” Not that I would ever admit it to anyone, but the power behind my father’s deep voice still gets to me, even now. It’s funny to watch how fast the men scatter out of the way for us as my father leans back into his throne, his eyes directly on us. “Yes, gentlemen?”

“I think there’s been a grave mistake,” I start out saying, pulling my hands behind my back with a somber expression on my face. The more serious I look, the more he knits his thick brows together, and the more the lines on his forehead are even more apparent. That’s probably because he knows I’m almost never serious, especially when I need to be. “I’ve just seen the public relations agent that you and mother hired to work with us, and I think there’s been a bit of a mix-up. It can’t possibly be the woman that just walked in the front doors. She looks like she just jumped off some city bus in a rush for her job at the local bingo hall.”

My father’s cheeks burn red. “And?”

“And… to be perfectly frank, I don’t see how someone with a disheveled appearance such as she has could possibly offer any help in this matter. Perhaps we should scrap the whole idea and come up with an alternative plan?”

Gedeon tenses next to me, and we both prepare for whatever’s about to come out of our father’s mouth next, his unamused expression weighing heavy on us.

“An alternative, you say? I don’t suppose you’ve seen this morning’s paper have you, Mischa?” As if by magic he pulls out a newspaper, jutting his finger up against the top headline: PRINCE MISCHA AND HIS BOAT OF WOMEN AT IT AGAIN. Next to it is a black and white zoomed-in photo of me and a few of my more, say, female friends lounging around the top deck of our yacht. One of the girls in the photo is facing away from the camera but is very obviously topless. I square my shoulders.

“Your mother and I have talked about this endlessly. If you two do not give this Elle Adams a chance to make things better, then I suggest your alternative be that you find yourselves real damn jobs. Enough is enough, gentlemen. We are not going to accept this behavior any longer. You will work at the summer camp, and you will work with Elle Adams, despite any preconceived notions about her. End of discussion.”

He looks away as he puts the newspaper behind him, the conversation ceasing at once. I know there’s no point in me trying to argue with him, so I paste on the best “fuck you” smile I can muster, and head out of the room.

Elle

I don’t know which is better, lying on top of silken sheets in a luxurious bed, or pushing open velvet curtains to see the view of the vast gardens below and the blue mountains off in the distance. I’ve never seen anything close to being this beautiful—not unless you consider the rows of rundown apartment buildings “scenic.”

I twirl around in the middle the floor, giggling to myself. Sure, I feel a little silly, but I figure it’s okay to let out my inner little girl in the privacy of my own room. That is, until a knock sounds at the door and I freeze in place. “Hello?”

“Miss Adams?” I immediately recognize Queen Lavinia’s elegant voice through the door, and scramble to make myself presentable.

“Yes, I’m coming!” I nearly trip over my own feet trying to get to the door before throwing it open, slightly breathless. “Your Majesty,” I say as I give her my best attempt at a curtsy.

The queen stands in front of me looking every bit as regal as she seems in photos, her tailored lavender dress and triple strand pearl necklace making me feel suddenly very out of place. Her smile is guarded, yet still polite enough to calm the anxious nerves firing off inside of me. “Miss Adams, I wanted to formally introduce myself, and to also extend my many thanks to you. May I?” she asks, pointing past me into the room.

“Of course, please,” I say, chiding myself for not coming off as professionally as I’d like. Man, am I glad Miranda isn’t here to see me now. I guess it’s something I’m going to have to work on. “And there’s no need for thanks, Your Majesty. I am honored to be here at your request.”

She gives me a polite nod, her eyes scanning the vast room. “Yes, and we’re happy to welcome you to the palace. Nevertheless, we do have business. I do think that shall wait until tomorrow, though. I’m sure you’ve had quite a long day, coming all the way from America. From California, no less! I daresay you’re probably feeling jet-lagged.”

Now that I think about it, I could use a nap. “Truthfully, I am, yes. However, please be assured that I am at your disposal whenever you need me. If you feel you’d rather not wait…”

She reaches out and gingerly pats my arm. “No, that will not be necessary tonight. Dinner will be served in an hour. The whole family will be present, and I’m sure you’d like some time to freshen up and get ready. I’ll send Claire up to retrieve you. The palace can be a bit of a maze if you don’t know where you’re going.”

Panic sets in. Dinner? But I don’t have anything to wear for dinner! “Thank you, Your Majesty. I cannot wait to eat real food again,” I say. Especially after my one bag of peanuts that was supposed to last a whole plane ride. I swallow against the rising lump in my throat. I am hungry, but that’s not the only reason why my stomach is in knots.

She bows her head to me, and I curtsy in return, trying to remember if that’s what I’m supposed to do or not. Everything seems to be flying out of my head as I mentally go through the clothes I’ve brought, trying to figure out just what I’m going to wear tonight. When she does leave I quickly turn around, my chest heaving.

“What the heck am I going to do?”

The ornate grandfather clock in the corner ticks the passing time all too quickly as I rummage through my sad collection of clothing, trying to put together a decent enough outfit to dine with the Royal Family. It isn’t that I packed the wrong things, it’s that I don’t even own a dress, much less a suitable one. And most definitely not something on par with what the queen was wearing. When I accepted this job at the last minute, I was hoping I’d have some time to get prepared, but I concentrated on the camp portion more than any diplomatic situations.

I run over and yank open one of the double doors at the opposite end of the room, wondering if maybe it’s a wardrobe that’s magically filled with beautiful clothes my size. Wouldn’t that just be perfect?

Unfortunately I’m not that lucky, and when I turn on the light I realize it’s a storage closet mainly filled with toiletries for the bathroom, and only a few velvet-lined hangers hanging up in the front possibly for coats. I guess I’ve watched too many movies. My stomach feels as if it’s filled with lead and I groan, leaning my forehead against the carved wooden threshold. “Dammit,” I mutter to myself.

I consider leaving the room to find the nearest house staff-member in hopes that they might know where to find appropriate attire, but I don’t want to get lost in the palace, especially considering I only have half an hour to get ready.

Tapping my finger against my chin, I try to come up with a better idea. Maybe the Royal Family is modern and fashion forward and I can get away with wearing my skinny jeans and pink flat-collared blouse? I remember gazing at the photos from various magazines online, noting that the Royal Family is always impeccably dressed, no exceptions. I guess that rules my usual dress code out of line…

Whatever I decide to do I need to hurry up and do it, and I definitely need another layer of deodorant at the rate I’m going. I feel as though I am a ticking time bomb. Maybe I need a different opinion.

“Mom? I don’t know what to do!” I whisper hurriedly into the phone as soon as my mother picks up. “I’m supposed to have dinner with the whole family tonight, but I can’t find a thing to wear! I don’t know what I was thinking coming here… I had no idea I’d be dining at the palace, much less staying here.”

“I tried to tell you, Elle. You can’t just go up to the palace and expect to know what you’re doing. The ones who deal with those kind of people have had many years of practice being around royal families.”

Even though I knew that’s exactly what she was going to say, it still stings. Maybe I’m not cut out for working at a public relations firm, not if I can’t even dress the part. “Do you think I should just tell them that I wasn’t expecting to stay here, and that I’m not dressed for the occasion?”

“Yes, honey. I think you should just tell them the truth and then come on back home. If you can’t get on their level immediately, they’ll notice it right away.”

I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, fishing through the couple of skirts I brought along with me. “Maybe the charcoal gray? No, too dark. Oh, this might work.”

I pull out the coral-colored pencil skirt that has a matching blouse, hoping that it will be conservative enough for the queen’s taste. The bright color contrasts nicely with my deep brown skin. I don’t even want to think about what she might say if I’m wrong.

My mother’s sighs into the phone. “Are you even listening to me, girl?”

There’s another knock at the door and I glance over, the blood draining from my cheeks as I realize it’s five minutes until seven o’clock. “Miss Adams? I was sent to fetch you for dinner this evening,” a voice calls out from the hallway.

I silently curse to myself, zipping up the pencil skirt and praying for the best. “I gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” And with that I hang up on her, tossing the phone onto the bed and shimmying my way into the skirt.

Here goes nothing.