“There’s something fishy going on here,” Jane says from inside the toilet stall.

“Jane, please, I think you’ve been oversharing too much lately,” I tell her wryly. I continue to wash my hands, frantically pumping out the lavender scented soap from the dispenser. Who knew that excessive hand-washing was a thing I did when I was nervous because I feel like I’m going to scrub my skin raw.

She sighs, exasperated, and I hear the toilet flush. “I don’t mean with me,” she cries out in annoyance as she barges out of the stall. “I mean here. In this place.” She flings her hands around.

“Try not to do that until after you’ve washed your hands,” I comment, lifting a small soft hand towel from the ornate holder on the granite countertop. With four stalls and three sinks, this bathroom seems more like the type you’d see in a fancy restaurant but I guess they have enough visitors and guests to warrant it. Growing up in our palace, it felt like barely anyone was over when I was younger, though it could be because my mother had been the one to love entertaining.

“Honestly,” she says, shaking her head as she comes over to the sink and washes up. “I mean, why are you here? They haven’t even said. They’re just all talking and talking like you always come over here for dinner.”

I shrug as I toss the towel in the wicker basket under the sink. Actually, it’s more Jane that’s been doing the talking and talking. “I don’t know. For a moment there I thought maybe it was something to do with the environment, but I’m not sure if they took what I was saying seriously or not.”

“Everyone takes you seriously when you talk about what matters to you. It’s impossible not to.”

I wince. “I guess I was a little blunt, wasn’t I?” I hadn’t meant to start blabbering on like that but I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re just being Ella, that’s all,” she says.

“Which reminds me, please try not to call me Ella. Your Highness or Madam will have to do.”

Jane stares at me for a moment and then sighs. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. You can’t blame me for getting confused since you would absolutely murder me on campus if I dared to call you that.”

“I know. I just think that they’re expecting someone royal and proper and refined. Everything I’m not.”

“You are all those things and more,” Jane says, reaching out to grab my chin and tilt my head so that I’m looking at myself in the mirror. “Look at you. You look like the princess you are.”

All I see are the same two eyes that look back at me every single day. The fancy blue dress I bought and the elegant updo doesn’t change any of that. My title escapes me, even on days like today.

“You know,” I tell her, “I don’t even think I like this royal life. Living in a palace, all these formalities.”

She takes her hand away and rolls her eyes. “Bloody hell, is there anything you do like these days? Loosen up, Princess. Whatever reason you’re here, it can’t be anything sinister, so just relax and enjoy it. Maybe it really does have to do with better relations between your countries and your father thought that you were the most amiable representative. You’ve certainly got more brains and wit than any of your brothers.”

“Are you kidding me? My brothers are younger versions of my father.”

“As I was saying,” she says sternly, “you have warmth and personality and sometimes that’s far more important in these kind of situations than all the class and manners in the world. Your brothers are like royal robots, always saying the right things but never meaning them. And you, Ella, Your Highness, Madam, you are not a robot.”

I’m not sure that not being a robot should be considered one of my selling points but it will have to do for now. Because that’s what all of this comes down to, isn’t it? Someone here is selling something and I just have to figure out what it is.

“Now come on, we’ve been in here long enough.” She grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door, trying not to step on my dress. “Let’s go drink and be merry.” She pauses. “But not too merry. You don’t want to be known as Princess Lush, either.”

I bite my lip. I’m not a heavy drinker and three glasses of wine can make me crawl to bed, but Jane is the one I should really be watching out for. I swear she must have trained for the drinking Olympics at one point in her life, or maybe that’s just every English person.

We step out into the hall and I try to steady my breath and calm my nerves as we walk toward the parlor room where the Norwegian royal family is speaking to each other rather passionately about something.

I have to admit, I like them. I like that they’re nowhere near as stuffy as I thought they’d be, I like that when I started talking about the environment, the King didn’t take offense to the fact that I was basically putting down his country’s policies, I like that there seems to be a lot of love between the four of them. They feel like an actual family unit and not just a monarchy.

Except for the odd one out. Magnus. He doesn’t quite fit in and it’s not just the way he’s dressed with that ugly orange tie and his dark longish hair constantly falling in his face, or the scruff on his masculine jaw and strong chin—the opposite of the clean-shaven, tidy, and elegant royals you usually see. It’s like he’s observing everyone all the time, locked in his head until he blurts something out that most would consider to be inappropriate.

I hate to admit it, but he intrigues me. I don’t want him to because it’s such a cliché to find the bad boy, the rich boy, the royal boy, interesting because the world is crammed full of those types of girls. But there is something about him that steals my attention, something that appeals to some very deep, basic level inside me. Like he speaks to my body, not my brain. I have to constantly remind myself that he’s not my type, that I’m not his type, that he’s just here and has nothing to do with the reason that I’m here.

And yet, during the meal, every time I looked over at him, he was looking at me. His eyes are dark and intense, and they have this way of holding your attention until it’s almost uncomfortable. I felt like he was trying to creep into every nook and cranny inside me. I often had to look away.

“He’s just a tall drink of water, isn’t he?” Jane murmurs to me just before we enter the room, her eyes drifting all over Magnus. I’m tempted to jab her in the side again, but I know it doesn’t do me any good.

Besides, she’s right. I won’t admit to her that she’s right because then she’ll probably try some match-making scheme and I’d hate to see how that would go (knowing her, it would probably be along the lines of her telling him I want to shag him or something equally as embarrassing), but he’s a damn handsome man in his own rugged, overly confident way. He’s tall, with shoulders like mountains, and I know that underneath that fitted suit he’s covered in tattoos and loads of muscle, no thanks to all the paparazzi pics of him sunbathing on the royal yacht in the summer.

But even though I can appreciate how blessed he is in the looks department (and I’m not surprised, the King is handsome, and the Queen and his sister are gorgeous), that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into a bumbling fool, even if there is something about his gaze that leaves me rather unnerved and tongue-tied.

And so, right now, as we approach the party, I can feel his eyes burning on me. I don’t even have to look up at him. Instead, I keep my attention on Mari, his sister, who seems only a few years younger than me and because of that is a lot more approachable.

“Champagne?” the Queen asks me as a waiter brings over a tray.

“Yes, thank you,” I tell her as I take a glass off the tray and Jane does the same. I notice that the King isn’t drinking anything at all and that he hadn’t at dinner either. I know that the Norwegian royal family is known for partaking in good food and drink, but it would be rude of me to bring it up. Perhaps he’s quitting for health reasons. I remember reading somewhere recently that he had pneumonia at the start of the summer.

“So,” the King says, “how are you liking your school? I know we touched on it briefly earlier but obviously you picked St. Andrews for a reason.”

My first instinct is to shrug, but I know I have to sound as concise as possible. “I had a year off between finishing up my boarding school and before starting university. I decided to travel around the UK, and I absolutely fell in love with Scotland. I’m afraid I’m there more for the country than the school, though of course it’s a very well-regarded university.”

“You know Oslo has a very good university as well,” he points out and quickly exchanges a glance with the Queen.

Okay. That’s kind of an odd thing to bring up, as if it’s a competition. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about the schools in Norway. Actually, I don’t know too much about Norway in general.”

“But you seem to know an awful lot about Norway’s environmental policies,” Magnus speaks up.

I whip my head over to him and catch a hint of a smile playing on his full lips. I’m not sure why my mind is noticing how full and lush they are considering what he just said and I urge my brain to ignore them. “Yes, well it’s hard not to know those things when they stand out like a sore thumb among the world’s developed countries.”

“Were you a fan of Captain Planet when you were growing up?” he asks, now fully smiling. The royal bastard has a lovely smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him quickly and then realize that perhaps that wasn’t the best way to speak to the Crown Prince of Norway. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“It’s quite all right, Your Highness,” he says right back. “I think it was before your time. How old are you again?”

“Magnus,” his mother chides him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman’s age?”

“Woman?” he says, jerking his chin at me. “She’s just a girl.”

“I’m twenty-two,” I say stiffly. “And whether I’m a girl or a woman, that’s not for you to speculate.”

This time, Jane jabs me in the side. That’s a first.

I look over at her and she’s giving me a stern look. Sheepishly, I look back at the royal family, expecting to see disapproving scowls on their faces, but instead they all look rather impressed, even Magnus.

“I must say, I like you, Princess Isabella,” the King says emphatically, and the curious praise makes me feel warm inside. “We need more people around here to keep the Prince in his place.”

“Yeah, that’s just what I need,” Magnus mumbles before finishing the rest of his champagne and walking across the room to plop the glass down on a side table, which makes his mother gasp at the meeting of the glass and the wood.

“Magnus,” his father calls after him as Magnus yanks open what looks to be a liquor cabinet and starts rifling through it. “You know not using a coaster amounts to treason in this family.”

“I’m sure the schools in Norway are very good,” Jane says eagerly, trying to save face, even though the moment has passed.

“Indeed, they are,” the Queen says with an appreciative nod. “Two of our girls opted to study here instead of going abroad.”

I look at Mari. “And where do you plan to study when you’re done with your schooling?” I pause. “That is if you’re planning on going to school.”

“Of course, she is,” the Queen answers for her, giving Mari a proud yet tight-lipped smile. “She’s exceptionally bright.”

Mari just nods though I can tell there’s something holding her back. She might just need time to figure out what she wants to be.

“And after you get your degree,” the King says to me, “where do you plan on living?”

Again I want to shrug. I straighten my shoulders instead. “I’m not quite sure yet. Edinburgh is lovely. London seems the right choice, but I think it’s just a bit too big for me. Anywhere that I feel I can use my voice best.”

“Then wouldn’t you head back to Liechtenstein?”

Is this a trap? Is he trying to trick me into saying something bad about my country?

I shake my head. “While Liechtenstein will always be my home and I think it has a lot to offer, there aren’t many opportunities there for what I’m interested in.”

“And what is that?” the Queen asks.

I look at her in surprise. I thought that was pretty apparent. “Getting together a non-profit organization to help the environment. To do something that invokes change. That’s my end goal, anyway. It’s a lot harder to do than it seems.”

“Your father has no interest in helping you?”

I hold back a bitter laugh. “My father has no interest in helping me at all. In fact, telling me about this dinner was the first time he acknowledged I existed since he gave me a present at Christmas.”

The King raises his gray brows and exchanges a perplexed glance with his wife.

Oh shit. If this was a trap, I didn’t sell my father very well.

“You see, he’s a very busy man,” I add quickly. “And I’m terrible at keeping in touch.”

“It’s true,” Jane says, nodding adamantly.

“I completely understand,” the King says, his voice warm and reassuring. He clears his throat. “May I ask, what exactly did your father tell you about tonight’s dinner?”

At that question I notice Magnus slowly sauntering back over to us with a highball of what looks like scotch and eyeing me curiously. Actually, everyone is looking at me the same way.

“I, uh, well he didn’t exactly say,” I admit stupidly, feeling my cheeks grow hot. “He just said that Jane and I were invited for dinner and that was it.”

“You didn’t ask what it was for?” the Queen asks, frowning.

I feel even stupider. “Well, no. My father didn’t tell me himself, his butler did. And he wasn’t sure. I just know to take my father’s word that if he tells me to go somewhere and do something, I do it.”

“So obedient,” the King says under his breath, almost wistfully, before he looks over at Magnus.

Magnus nods at him and then says to me, “Listen. Ella, right? I need to speak to you in private for a moment.”

I blink at him, totally confused as to what’s going on and then give Jane a helpless look. She only gives a slight shrug, her eyes getting that devious glint in them, the one that means she’s getting inappropriate thoughts that I pray she keeps to herself.

“Sure,” I tell him, and I step back away from the group as he lightly places his fingers at my elbow, guiding me toward a set of French doors. From the moment his skin makes contact with mine, I feel a subtle jolt of electricity travel through my veins, like I’m some kind of conductor, and I nearly jump back from it. I don’t know if it’s his smell, like a pine forest with a hint of booze, his proximity to me, or what, but it’s never been more obvious that I’m sorely out of practice even just socializing with the opposite sex.

I glance over my shoulder at the others and they all seem to be holding their breath, except Jane, who is downing her glass of champagne.

Magnus opens the doors with ease and we step out onto a stone path that winds its way through a few bushes filled with night-blooming flowers and a bench, before it turns into the back courtyard and parking area we first arrived in.

“It’s lovely out here,” I tell him, my voice shaking a little, from both nerves and the bracing air.

“It’s ridiculous is what it is,” Magnus says, leading me over to the stone bench and then running his hands over it, brushing off any dirt. “Here, sit.”

I hesitate a moment before I do, still so unsure of what’s going on. “What’s ridiculous?”

“What isn’t?” he asks, and I notice he’s not sitting. He stands in front of me, and from here he looks even more massive and powerful than before. He’s intimidating, that’s for sure. “This is what constitutes my mother’s garden. It’s the only place she has in private to enjoy her flowers.” He gestures to the park behind the palace. “In the summer, the park and main gardens are open to the public. Hell, a lot of the palace inside is too. I don’t know why they choose to live like they’re fish in a bowl.”

“Our palace back home is completely blocked off,” I tell him. “No one can even get near, though of course it’s pretty useless since no one really cares about us. No one even knows where Liechtenstein is.”

“They have some great places to go abseiling,” he says. “Some great women too.”

I shouldn’t roll my eyes at the Crown Prince of Norway, but I do.

“Hey, you could be one of them,” he says.

“I’ll pass,” I tell him with a scoff, folding my hands in my lap. “So, may I ask what we’re doing out here? What was all of that inside?”

He gnaws on his lip for a moment, that damn full bottom lip. He’s almost wincing.

This isn’t going to be good, is it?