Two weeks after the blast, I’m wearing a beautiful, flowing dress, and Bran is scowling at me over a glass of whisky.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say to him, smiling.

“Like what?” He grumbles and sips his drink.

“Like you’re my dad and you don’t approve of my date.”

He rolls his eyes. “More like your fiancé and I don’t approve of your dangerous mission.”

“Fake fiancé,” I remind him with a smile. “And we’ve gone over this.”

He grunts again and looks away. I go back to fussing with myself in the mirror.

The first few days after I asked him about the plan back in the hospital, he refused to even talk about it. I told Aleks that I was going to help them out and we instantly started to go over the details, but Bran wouldn’t hear any of it. He was in denial or something.

After we got back to the castle about three days ago, denial turned into anger. He tried to forbid me from going through with this, which just made me laugh. Even his mother was against him, and slowly we broke down his defenses until he turned to a sort of silent brooding.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t want me to do this, but I think he’s accepted it. At least he’s accepted his role in all this, which is very minimal. There’s a dinner tonight for the ministers and other business leaders, much like the one early on in my visit to Bellestan. I’m to attend as Bran’s date, of course, but from there the night is going to be all mine. Bran is going to feign some illness and leave as early as he feels is appropriate, and from there I’m supposed to approach Perko myself.

He hates it. He wants to be in the room with me the whole time, but his mother pointed out again and again that can never work. She’ll have security personnel in the room, not the normal palace guards, but her own special agents that can be nearby to protect me. That seemed to make him feel a little bit better, but he still wasn’t happy about it.

I check the time and look at myself one last time. I’m nervous, really nervous, but I have to hide it. This is supposed to be just a normal dinner for me, after all.

“Come on,” I say to him, walking across the room. He stands up as I approach. “Escort me, you big jerk.”

He smiles a little. “I’m a jerk because I don’t want you in danger?”

“Exactly.” I kiss him softly on the lips and linger there for a second. “Your mother is going to keep me safe, don’t worry,” I say.

“You don’t have to do this. It’s not to late to back out.”

“I don’t want to back out. I want to help.” I kiss him one last time. He takes my hand and sighs.

“Okay then. Let’s get this over with.”

We head out of the room hand in hand. The palace guard falls into step behind us, and we make our way to the enormous ballroom at the center of the caves.

The plan is very, very simple. As soon as we arrive, Bran starts eating. He takes some finger foods offered to him by the wait staff. Meanwhile, a waiter approaches me and gives me the sign: a wink with his left eye. I smile at him and take a glass of “champagne” from his tray, though it’s nonalcoholic. I memorize his face, because he’s the one I’ll be taking drinks from for the rest of the night.

I’m supposed to get drunk, and Bran is supposed to get sick.

The night begins easily enough. I feel so nervous that I do end up drinking one real drink between fake ones. After twenty minutes of being there, I’ve had three glasses, two of which were fake. I feel like I’m a little drunker than I should be, probably just because it’s the placebo effect.

Queen Ana was very serious about this part of the plan. I’m to drink five glasses of champagne, but I absolutely cannot be drunk. I’m to appear drunk, though. She’s positive that a man like Perko will be watching me every move, and he’ll take note of how many drinks I’ve had. He’ll think I’m an easy target, or at least ripe for honesty.

The Queen thinks he’ll try to recruit me if I make it obvious that I might be ready. If this happens, I have a recording device strapped to my lower back. It’s a tiny little thing, but the microphone is apparently very powerful. I just have to touch a part of my dress near my waist to start the device and another part of my dress to stop it.

Bran and I chat with foreign ambassadors while I skim the room. I spot Perko standing with a group of older men in a far corner, smoking cigars and laughing. I feel a sudden and sharp stab of hatred and fear course through me, and I have to look away from him.

Bran glances at me, a little concerned, and steps closer. He takes my hand in his and extricates us from the conversation. I could actually follow it very well, despite the fact that it was entirely in Bellestanian. Ever since the concussion, I’ve been able to understand the language very well, and even speak it better, though apparently my accent is still terrible.

“Bran,” I say softly to him as we move toward the buffet table. “It’s time for you to make your exit.”

He sighs. “I can stay. You know I can.”

“No, you can’t. You’re going to ruin this. Please, Bran.”

The mayor of a local municipality approaches, smiling and extending his hand. Bran takes it and shakes, and I’m afraid he’ll never leave. If he stays, Perko won’t feel comfortable enough coming up to me.

But halfway through the conversation, Bran makes a strange face. He glances down at his shoes and back at the mayor. “Excuse me, Mayor,” he says. “I’m not feeling well.” Bran motions for a palace guard.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask him a little loudly in Bellestanian.

“I’ll be fine, Princess,” he replies, speaking his language as well. “Please, stay here and represent me. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Of course,” I say, and give him a formal curtsy.

That makes him grin a little bit. He lingers for a moment, clearly hoping I’ll change my mind, but people are staring at us. He can’t remain any longer and he knows it.

He turns and heads out of the ballroom with the palace guards in tow.

I stand there for a second and feel completely lost. I was feeling confident enough with Bran by my side, but now I don’t know what to do. I’m alone, really alone, and now it’s all up to me.

“Princess.” I look over and notice the waiter is standing there, smiling. He steps toward me. “A drink, perhaps?”

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“Strength,” he whispers as he walks past me. I watch him go and I take a deep breath.

I’m not alone. I have to remember that. Queen Ana is nearby, and her people are all over this room. They’re rooting for me and counting on me. I’m sure they’d rather someone in their field were involved in this, but instead it’s up to me. I’m not a spy and I don’t have any training in how to handle this, but I have to do it. I can’t turn back.

I’m not a coward. I’ll prove myself to this country.

As I turn toward the room, the American Ambassador’s wife approaches me and takes me by the arm. I like her because she speaks very good English and seems to actually like Americans. She steers me toward a group of other women and introduces me all around.

I join that conversation, thankful that I was pulled into it, though I’m constantly looking over toward Perko. I join in half-hearted, and slowly the night passes.

I’m introduced to more wives and more men, and everybody asks after Bran’s health. They all seem to want to be kind to me, because maybe I’ll put a good word into the royalty for them. Everyone except for the men huddled around Perko.

They don’t come in my direction. None of them even look toward me, in fact. I know that’s his little group of coconspirators, and to them I’m probably the enemy just as I see them as my enemy. The room suddenly becomes very clear to me, and I realize that it’s divided by ideology. There are the people that are loyal to the monarchy, and those that are not. The ones that aren’t loyal don’t come up and speak to me, since I’m going to be a part of the monarchy soon enough.

That means Perko doesn’t so much as glance in my direction. Unlike the first time we met, he doesn’t seem interested in speaking to me at all. The night slowly passes, and I get more and more nervous. I’m supposed to be seducing Perko and getting him to think that I’m unhappy, but I don’t know how to do that if there’s some invisible line I can’t cross.

I grab another fake drink from the waiter toward the end of the night. I know I have to do something, because so far I’m failing miserably, all because I’m nervous. I take my fake drink and I head back toward the bathrooms, which happen to be near the group Perko is smoking and laughing with.

As I get near the men, the waiter with the drinks tray suddenly swerves in front of me. I have to stop and stumble to the side to avoid him, but as I stumble, I trip and spill my drink all over the legs of one of Perko’s friends.

“What the hell!” the man says loudly as he turns around,

I look at him sheepishly as the waiter walks quickly away from me. That sneaky bastard. I was going to do this on my own, but he decided to give me a little nudge in the right direction. This was my plan all along, though. Great minds think alike.

“Sorry,” I say to him in Bellestanian as formally as I know how. “I am very, very sorry.”

The man looks angry as hell for a second but quickly composes himself. “It is okay, Princess,” he says, though the last word comes out as a snarl.

“Mikhail, dear man, you’re being so rude to the Princess.” Perko steps up past the man I spilled my drink on and stops in front of me. “Are you okay, my Princess?”

Perko’s smile is almost genuine. “I’m fine, thank you,” I say softly. “I just tripped on this absurd dress.” I look down at myself with a huff.

“Yes, well, the finer points of polite company are sometimes difficult,” Mikhail says.

Perko whirls on him. “You rude bastard,” he hisses. “This is our Princess. You will apologize.”

Mikhail stares at Perko, clearly shocked, but a second later he composes himself. He bows to me very formally. “I apologize for my rude tone, Princess. Please, no offense was intended.”

“It’s okay,” I say, slurring my words a little and using my worse Bellestanian, which isn’t too far from my best. “It’s hard to be kind when your legs are wet.”

That makes Perko laugh loudly. “Truer words have never been spoken, my Princess,” he says. “Please, can I get you a drink to replace that one?”

I nod at him and smile. “Thank you, Minister Perko.”

“Come, dear, come.” He takes my arm and leads me away from the group. “Really, I must apologize for Mikhail back there. His little show of rudeness was purely… politics. You understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” I say. “This country has very strong opinions, as I’m finding out.”

Perko smiles at that. “Yes, yes we do.” He grabs me a drink from a waiter. I’m not my waiter, but that’s okay. I accept it and take a single sip. “Your Bellestanian is improving, Princess,” he says.

“Thank you,” I answer. “I’ve been working hard. Though who knows if it’s even worth the time.”

“Worth the time, Princess?”

That got his attention. I twirl my glass in circles in my hand and pout at it. “I almost got blown up, remember?”

He winces at my frankness. “Yes, I heard about that, my dear. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“I’m lucky. We’re all lucky. Do you now how many bombs were shot at me back home?”

He cocks his head. “None, I assume.”

“None,” I confirm. “No bombs. I had no press following me around, and I didn’t have to live in a cave.”

Perko smiles softly. “Yes, you must miss being home.”

“Things were good in America. Bran has a country and a life back there. I just… I just don’t understand why he’s throwing it all away for this place that doesn’t even want him.”

Perko stares at me for a second and I can tell he’s trying to weigh what to say next. So far, I hope I’m coming off as a young woman that was thrown into a world she didn’t expect and is angry that it’s taking so much away from her. I’m hoping he thinks I’m just young and bitter and drunk.

My heart is racing and I know this is the moment. If he takes the bait, I think I can do something with that. I take a big drink, draining half my glass, hoping to encourage him a bit.

“The political environment here in Bellestan is rather… volatile,” he says slowly. “Did the Prince not warn you?”

“Prince,” I scoff a bit. “He’s just Bran to me, you know. Just a rich guy with a great company. I didn’t even know about this place when we first started dating.”

“I thought the world knew all about him being Prince Billionaire?” Perko says.

I shrug my shoulders and let the strap of my dress fall down my arm slightly. “I don’t really watch the news. We met at a party. I didn’t even know who he was at first.”

Perko smiles at me as I fix my strap slowly. “Well, dear, that must be difficult. I can’t imagine what it’s like, getting thrown into this.”

“No, you can’t,” I say. “How could you? You’re just a politician.”

He smiles softly. “Just a politician? I have a daughter, you know.”

I shrug my shoulders and finish my drink. “You all have daughters. Doesn’t matter.” I sigh and look way. “I’m sorry if I’m being too brash, Minister. I’m just tired.”

He doesn’t say anything for another long moment, clearly watching me. I turn back to him and meet his gaze without smiling, daring him to say something. Slowly, he steps closer to me.

“Would you like to see something, Princess?” he asks me.

My heart skips a beat. “What, another ancient monument?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. Actually, I think you’ll like it. Come with me.”

I hesitate before sighing. “Fine. Not like Bran’ll be back, anyway. He’s not really sick, you know. Just wanted to ditch out of this, but of course I have to stay to represent the crown.”

“Of course,” Perko says, and leads me away from the crowd.

I prattle on about life as the Princess, though I’m only half paying attention to what I’m saying. Perko takes me out of the room, making the required noises and agreeing with everything I’m saying. We head down the main hall, but wave away the palace guards as they try to follow.

I have to admit, I’m afraid. I’m very, very afraid. But I keep going. I know Queen Ana is watching, even if she’s not right here with me.

We head down the hall and finally Perko stops in front of a nondescript door. “Come, just in here.” He pushes it open and we step inside.

It’s a small guest room. There’s just enough room for a small bathroom off to the side, a small twin-sized bed, a vanity with a large mirror, and a wardrobe. Perko walks over to the vanity, grabs the mirror, and flips it onto its back.

“What are we doing here?” I ask him.

“You seem bored,” he say. “I admit, I get bored at these things, too. Princess, have you really asked yourself why you’re here?”

I watch as Perko roots around in one of the drawers. “I ask myself that every day.”

“And what’s the answer?”

I watch as he finds what he’s looking for. He pulls out a small baggie with some white powder inside of it, and I realize that it’s cocaine.

“Uh,” I say, and press the button to record. “I want a good life. And I think I love Bran. Or at least I did. Now, I don’t know. I never wanted to be a Princess.”

“Of course not, dear. Being a Princess isn’t fun, is it?”

“No,” I agree with him.

He pours some of the baggie onto the mirror then gets out his wallet. Using a credit card, he cuts three little lines, and finally rolls up a fifty-dollar bill.

“I ask myself why I got into politics all the time,” he says as he works. “When I was young, my father would tell me to learn a trade. Bellestan was built by skilled craftsmen, he’d say to me, over and over. After awhile, I got bored of him, and decided I’d go into politics instead.”

He snorts the first line and throws back his head. When he’s done, he holds the fifty out for me.

I hesitate a second. “Go ahead, Princess,” he says. “I use this room all the time. I’ve swept it for bugs. Nobody is listening. Nobody will come here.”

I’ve never done cocaine before, but now I have to. I slowly walk over to him and accept the fifty. I lean forward and emulate what he did, snorting the powder into my nose.

Instantly it hits me.

“Holy,” I say, throwing my head back.

Perko grins, his eyes wide. “Exactly,” he agrees.

I know I shouldn’t do coke in Bellestan. Hell, I shouldn’t do it anywhere, but especially not while recording everything. Bellestan is a conservative country, and their stance on drugs is one of the toughest in the world. Addicts are routinely deported.

But holy shit, I do not give a fuck about that or anything at all right now.

Cocaine is fucking crazy. I feel invincible and excited. My pulse is racing and I just want to SCREAM as loud as I can and laugh my freaking head off. I feel like a fucking god right now.

I give Perko the bill back and walk over to the bed. I sit down but can’t sit still.

“Things are easier in America, you know,” he says to me. “Much easier. Here in Bellestan, the people are too stupid and too backwards to care about anything but their farms. You know, I agree with the monarchy on one thing, and it’s that we need to enter the twenty-first century with the rest of the world.”

He snorts the next line and throws his head back, his eyes wide. I laugh and grin, staring at him, excited about absolutely everything.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “You know they’d kick me out of the fucking country for doing this? Isn’t that madness?”

“Madness,” I agree.

“Fucking madness.” He walks over to the wardrobe and throws it open. “I feel amazing. God damn, do I love doing coke in this fucking palace. Look at this room. Even this little fucking room is a symbol of their power and wealth. It’s all so absurd and disgusting. I hate the monarchy, no offense, I fucking hate them.”

“No offense taken,” I say, laughing. “Look at this place. I grew up poor!”

“Me too!” He whirls around and faces me. “I was so fucking poor! But now look at me. I want to rip down this monarchy just to prove that a poor boy can beat out all these rich bastards.”

“Yes,” I say, totally riveted by his speech. There’s a little voice in the back of my head telling me to get out of there, since I have what I need, but I don’t want to. I’m having such a good time!

I stand up and walk over to the wall near where Perko is ranting. He’s going on about the royalty and hating them but I’m not listening. I walk over to the wall and run my hands down along it before cracking up and laughing.

“What?” he asks suddenly, staring at me.

“No windows!”

He looks at me for a second then bursts out laughing. We laugh together, and for some reason it’s the funniest joke in the world.

“They live like cockroaches under the ground!” Perko roars, laughing his head off.

“Cockroaches!” I can’t help but laugh along. Everything feels good, I feel so good, I can barely stand it.

Suddenly, Perko turns toward me. He steps closer and puts his hands up on my shoulders, pulling me toward him.

It takes me off guard. He shoves his face against mine, trying to kiss me. I react the only way I know how.

I knee him as hard as I can in the balls.

“Oh, fuck!” He grunts and stumbles back.

I cover my mouth. “Shit! You tried to kiss me!”

“You drunk American whore,” he curses in Bellestanian. “You should be sucking my fat foreign dick for giving you that coke. You’re no fucking Princess, you goddamn slut.”

I blink and walk quickly toward the door. He follows me, still raving. “I’ll cut off your tits, your goddamn sow. I’ll fuck your bleeding corpse!”

I whirl on him and as he gets close enough, I kick him in the balls again. He screams in pain and falls backward, crashing against the vanity. He knocks the mirror onto the floor, splintering the glass, but I’m not hanging around to see what happens next.

I turn and fucking run. I throw open the door and speed out of that room as fast as I can.

The palace guards meet me in the hallway seconds later. “Princess?” I realize that Aleks is leading them.

“Perko,” I say. “Holy shit, Perko. Tried to kiss me. Said he’d cut off my tits.”

“Jesus,” Aleks whispers. “Did you… did you get it?”

I remember the recording device. “Yes!”

“Good. Come on, Princess.” He leads me away from the room, away from the sick bastard Blaz Perko.