I was no princess.

When this whole thing started — before the heat, and the rush, and the ecstasy and danger and the scandal, I was just me. I was around royalty, and had been since I was little, being the head of affairs for my best friend, Princess Adele White of Berne. But I wasn’t royalty.

I guess it was the re-naming ceremony where this whole thing began. It was about a week before the now-infamous suitors ball at King Lucian’s palace in Avlion, and I was with Adele at the re-naming ceremony of the royal library in the capital of Berne. It’d previously been named after some Duke from hundred of years ago who had — well, nobody quite remembered what he’d done to get his name on a building, which is why Adele’s father, King Lorne was re-christening it to “The Royal Library of Berne.”

Much more fitting.

And of course, in true fashion, it was quite the royal affair. News stations, tabloid magazine reporters, bloggers, and everyday people who wanted to get a glimpse of the royal life crowded the stands to watch King Lorne’s speech on the front steps. After the speech though, there was the elegant celebratory cocktail hour inside the library, catered by the best in the kingdom of course.

“Well that was, uh, fun,” I said flatly as we stepped through the library rooms, which had been decked out in finery and tables full of food and drinks for the celebration.

Honestly, I hated glitzy events like this. Luckily, Adele did too.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Oh, totally.”

“Should we pull the usual?”

“If you mean hoard some desserts and a bottle of champagne and sneak off until this is over, then God yes.”

I grinned. She knew me too well.

The two of us had been best friends since forever, despite her being a princess and me being, well, not. In another time, you may have called me her “head lady in waiting.” These days, I went by “head of affairs.” I did her planning, organized her schedule, did a lot of her shopping (and a good thing — you’d have thought princesses would have better taste than Adele, but she was the exception to the rule), and ran her social media stuff.

And yet, I never felt like I was her employee. In fact, I was more of a big sister to her than anything else, even if we were the same age. Adele was pretty sheltered, and it’s not like I was that worldly, but I’d seen more of it than her. I mean, I’d dated a bit, unlike my lily-white, pure as the driven snow best friend.

But still, ours was an awesome friendship, a great dynamic.

“Princess.”

We turned at the sound of the voice, glancing up at the smug, douchey-looking, overly-tanned guy with the gold crown on his head.

“Yes?” Adele smiled, bowing slightly. See, there was a reason she was the princess and not me, aside from, well, birth. She could play the role, and do it well. But me, bowing to slimy princes who looked at my tits when they addressed me wasn’t going to happen.

Adele handled him in the way only she could manage.

“Prince John, of Lapton.”

Adele nodded. “Of course. Thanks for coming to my father’s event, Your Highness.”

Barf.

Yeah, there was no way I could pull off being a princess.

“Well, Berne is on my way to my coastal estate, and I wanted to stop by on my way there for the weekend.”

“Well, I’m sure my father—”

“To see you, Princess.”

Adele blushed. I just rolled my eyes at how cheesy and transparent the guy was.

“Why don’t you join me, Princess?”

“Join you?”

He smiled, still looking at her boobs.

“To my chateau. Beaches, champagne, moonlit nights. The view of the ocean from my quarters is breathtaking, I assure you.”

This guy can NOT be for real.

Adele, bless her, was out of her element here. For one, because she was too nice to tell him to fuck off and stop staring at her chest, and  two, because she was too naive to see the invitation for what it was.

…Let’s just say, my friend being a famously virgin princess wasn’t exactly a big secret, and I saw the intention all over Prince douchebag’s face.

“You know, actually,” I stepped forward. “You’ve got that event this weekend,v Princess.”

“What event?”

I smiled thinly at the prince, ignoring my friend.

“Eye exam. They need to make sure you’re aware of where you’re looking when addressing people, remember?”

The prince stammered, looking like he wanted to come up with some sort of bullshit excuse, but failing.

“Thank you for coming to the event, Prince John,” I said, smiling widely at him as he glowered at my cock-blocking. “Please enjoy King Lorne’s hospitality, and enjoy your beach this weekend!”

“Hey, servant,” he suddenly spat. “The princess and I were talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Adele suddenly pushed forward and glared at him.

He sneered. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, a dick,” I said flatly before I grabbed Adele’s arm and dragged her away.

The second we were around the corner, we both burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, I’m never going to hear the end of this from Mallory when she hears I mouthed off to a prince.”

Mallory was Adele’s stepmom. We weren’t fans.

“Uh, tell her it was me. She already hates me for whatever reason.”

Adele laughed.

“Thanks for the rescue.”

“Anytime,” I winked.

I didn’t mind telling royals what I thought. I guess that was one of the perks of having grown up amongst them.

“He was kind of cute, I guess.”

I made a face. “In that creepy date-rapey way, sure?”

She started laughing again, when one of her father’s staff suddenly stepped up to her and whispered something quietly.

Her smile drooped and she groaned as the guy ran off

“Ugh, I gotta go do princess stuff. No champagne for me.”

“Poor baby,” I grinned. “It sounds so hard.”

“My aunt Helen made an appearance.”

I made a face. “Okay, you win. That does suck. She the one that refers to anyone not of royal blood a ‘commoners’?”

“Yep.”

I snorted. “Have fun?”

“Yeah, can’t wait to go see how many offensive terms she can cram into one sentence this time.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

She sighed. “Go have fun. Drink some champagne for me.”

“Oh, do I have your permission, ma’am?”

This was a running joke between us — exaggerating the whole “princess and her lady in waiting” dynamic.

“Indeed,” Adele said in her best snooty voice. “Just fetch my laundry first.”

“Bitch.”

She giggled. “Love ya. Have fun.”

“Good luck with the commoners.”

“Hey, you know, dealing with Aunt Helen and family stuff is going to be the rest of my night. You should go do something.”

“I thought we were going to hang later?”

She pouted. “Yeah, but trust me, this’ll take all night. Go find something to do!”

I made a face. “I don’t know. I might just hang in and—”

“Please? Let me live through you?”

I laughed. “You don’t want to watch Netflix ‘through me’?”

She gave me a look.

“Okay, okay, I’ll see what kind of trouble I can get into.”

“Thanks. Let me know so I can pretend I was there instead of biting my tongue at Helen’s racist jokes.”

I laughed as I hugged her before she trotted off, leaving me to find something to do.

Now where was that champagne?