The storm that struck my country yesterday delivered far more damage than was previously known. I’ve been working in the city all day, doing my best to help my fellow citizens. But my meager efforts have done little for the effort to clean up—and cleaning is the least of the worries now. Many areas of the city are still without electricity. And there are far too many hungry children at the shelter where I’ve been passing out small portions of food for the past few hours.

The lines have finally died down somewhat, and I’m able to sit for the first time today. I choose a spot on the floor facing the wall, far away from the crowd of people in the dining area. This building is usually a school—an expensive, private school—and it isn’t big enough to hold everyone seeking shelter and food today.

I’m exhausted and I’m sure I’m covered again in dirt, much as I was right after the storm yesterday. The only good that has come out of this—at least for me—is that I haven’t had time to think about William or what happened between us last night.

I still can’t believe I begged him to have sex with me. To fuck me, to be more accurate. He was right to have run away from me—I’ll be surprised if he ever speaks to me again after the way I behaved.

I don’t know what’s come over me… I’m not usually a horrible person. I don’t bicker with people—I rarely argue. I’ve been trained as a proper princess—I keep my mouth shut and do as I’m told. At least I did.

I suppose the problem with my upbringing began when I went to America to go to university. My first year, I was so timid I don’t think anyone noticed me. It was my second year that I opened up. I’d spent the summer at school—I didn’t return to Rosvalia at all until the summer between my second and third year.

And my second year was the year I met James.

I don’t like to let myself think of him. It’s bad enough that I have a book of published poetry that is basically the tale of my sorry story with him. And it’s even worse that he was one of the judges who chose my book as the best in our class—the only reason it was published at all.

It might have been his way of apologizing—perhaps feeling sorry for me—but I have my doubts. And I’m not going to allow myself to even think of what will happen when he arrives here in two weeks for the conference. I still can’t believe I invited him at all. I can only hope I’ll be so busy when it begins that I’ll barely have time to do more than greet him.

And it isn’t as though there isn’t more than enough to do between now and then. There’s no doubt my family will contribute just enough money to clean up the areas the guests will see during their stay here—my father will likely ignore the rest of the country, just as he always does. We’ll put up some facade that the country has recovered well—and what better place to do that than on an international stage like my conference?

My family makes me ill. It’s why I need to leave this place, as much as I love it. There is just no way for me to separate myself from them—I have no power to do anything but put in my own backbreaking labor and try to do the little I can for our people.

Returning to America will be difficult, but it is my only option if I want to remove myself from my family. And I still don’t know William very well, but I’m certain he’ll understand. He can return to his country—he’ll be embarrassed, certainly, but no more than I will. I’m sure that after a few months, he’ll have forgotten this entire incident and he can go about his merry life the way he always has, doing whatever it is that Montovian princes do.

I try to ignore the small shiver of need that pulses through me at the thought of him. I take a bite of the sandwich I brought with me from the palace instead. William is attractive, that much is certain. All of the Montovian princes are. And his blue eyes…

No. If I allow myself to get attached now, I’ll end up spending my life in Rosvalia under the thumb of my father and my brother. And they will do everything in their power to end our relationship. The only reason my father allowed the farce of our marriage to continue was to humiliate Montovia. He’d almost called it off before the wedding even happened, which would have been fine with me at the time. But at the last moment, my father concocted some sort of scheme that I, apparently, am not intelligent enough to understand. The only reason I agreed to go along with it was because he told me he would send me back to America for good with his blessing. And that in time, I could marry whomever I wished.

James. I thought I’d never love a man again after what happened with him. I never wanted to love another man.

I didn’t expect to come to care about William. Ever. I’m still not sure that I do. But he has been respectful—at least mostly. I’d feared from the beginning that he would use me in whatever way he chose, seeing me as his property as is the way of my country. But it hasn’t been like that at all. He helped during the storm yesterday. He’s shown restraint and respected my wishes. He’s even been…kind. Which is more than I can say for myself.

“Why are you sitting in the corner, Princess?” William edges as close to me as he possibly can.

I hadn’t even noticed that someone had come to sit next to me—the area has become so crowded with other people looking for shelter that there are now people eating on the floor nearby.

I gulp down the bite I’ve been chewing for too long. “I thought I’d save the seats for the people here trying to find comfort, Your Highness.”

“Ah. But you thought nothing of taking their food? I don’t know, Princess. If I was hungry enough to come to a shelter, I’d probably rather have a sandwich than a seat at a dining table.”

I turn to face him, pressing my back against the wall. “I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I brought this food with me this morning. So there has been nothing untoward about me eating. Even princesses have to eat now and again—”

He holds his palms out to me, interrupting. “Slow down, Princess. I was only kidding.” He smiles, but there is something almost plastic about it. “It looks like you’ve had a busy day.”

I frown, glaring at him. I open my mouth to speak, but then I notice he has dirt streaked across his face, and his fingernails are caked with muck. He probably looks exactly like I do. The realization that he’s been out in the city, doing work for my people, sends a wave of something through me. Something that says that perhaps we could be more—more than we are now. Knowing he cares enough to do more than is expected of him sends a strange electrical pulse through me.

And then I remember what he did for me last night, and that pulse turns to something more like a burning desire that plants itself right between my thighs.

I take another bite of my sandwich and turn away from him.

He slides closer to me, looping an arm around my waist to speak into my ear. “You and I need to talk, Princess.”

“Talk all you want,” I say with my mouth full, very un-princesslike.

He chuckles, but there’s something guarded in his voice. “Not here.”

I swallow my food and turn my head to face him. “I’m not leaving here tonight. So if you have something to say…”

He nods. “I do.” His smile falls and he looks into my eyes for a moment, though I can’t read what it is that’s in them. “I do have something to say. Something to ask you, at any rate.”

“Ask away.” Our faces are so close together that all it would take for me to kiss him is tiny tilt of my head. And that sensation between my thighs is telling me to do just that. More like begging me to do just that. My lips part and I start to lean forward—

“James Camden.”

I suck in a breath, leaning away from him. “What?”

“James Camden. The keynote speaker at your convention in two weeks.” He glares at me. “The man from your poems.”

“I—”

“Princess…” He shakes his head, but his eyes are still narrowed to near-slits. “He was your teacher.”

My mouth falls open, but I can’t seem to make any sound come out.

“He was your married teacher.”

I draw in a slow breath, trying to calm myself, though my heart feels like it might hammer out of my chest. “My past is none of your business, Your Highness.”

“Isn’t it, though?” He glares at me for a moment longer. “Is that the reason you invited him here?”

“Is what the reason I invited him here?” He has to see the confusion in my expression. “What are you getting at?”

“I know how to use the internet, Princess.”

“And?” I shake my head. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“His divorce. He divorced his wife a few months ago and now he’s coming here.” He nods. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what the big secret is. In ninety-four days, you’re going to make a mockery of me and leave me for this man.”