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I’ve never thought about where my food comes from before. It’s just always there. Do others have to worry about it? It makes sense that they would, and I find that I hate that.
“That’s the truth of it, lad.”
He continues to walk, and since his stride is so long, I practically have to run to keep up with him.
“Are you going to follow me all night?”
“No,” I lie because I damn well know that I am. I still don’t know why I feel that I have to.
“It’s your country,” he responds, shrugging.
His next stop is a nondescript wooden door, not unlike the door to the kitchens in the palace. I look up and read the sign: The King’s Icy Stag. I have no guesses as to what kind of establishment this could be. He doesn’t hold the door open for me, so I open it myself. Inside, I am immediately greeted with a painting of my parents. A long bar is in front of me, and tables are everywhere. It’s a pub. I’ve never been in one before, not being old enough. Evergreen is the rare European country where the legal drinking age is twenty-one.
“Christopher!” the bartender shouts. My Viking lumberjack’s name is Christopher. It suits him. “The usual?” I can totally imagine him coming in here after a day out on the water and warming up with a drink before going home.
“Yes. Thank you,” he says, sitting down at the bar.
“Princess?” a voice calls from behind me.
“Yes?” I say automatically after turning around. A man has bowed at the waist, so I can’t see his face. “Rise, sir.” I don’t need people to do this. I’m not the heir. Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely, but it’s totally unnecessary.
“Have a drink on me,” an old man who kind of looks like my grandpa says. I take it, though I have no intention of drinking it, though maybe I should. I don’t carry money. I mean I’m sure I have some, but I’ve never needed, like, actual money before.
“Thank you, sir.”
“What brings you to the Stag with the riff-raff?”
“I don’t know about riff-raff. I am enjoying Christopher’s most enlightening company,” I say, sitting on the barstool the man pulled out for me. “Thank you,” I sit next to Christopher, who rolls his eyes at me and downs his beer.
I feel like such a creeper for watching his throat muscles work while he does. Who knew throat muscles were hot? Maybe it’s just him. I slide the beer in front of me over to him and he drinks that too. If it weren’t too obvious, I’d fan myself…
CHAPTER FOUR
CHRISTOPHER
God, why is she so beautiful, and why am I noticing it? I mean, duh I am noticing because it is hard to miss. She is the exact opposite of her sister. She is bright and tiny. Her ginger-colored hair lends to the theory she might have a fiery temper under that docile demeanor. I mean hell, sitting at this bar staring at her, I can picture her alabaster skin with her hair covering her nipples, shining for the sweat we have made together. “What the fuck?” I curse at myself, chugging the beer in my hand and tapping the bartender for another. I have got to get a grip. She is one of them; no matter how sweet her voice is, she is a part of the problem.
“Can I get you a drink, your majesty?” I look at the bartender like he's crazy. All of Evergreen knows she's underage.
“Oh no, thank you. Do you have a soda?” She asks while sitting next to me. Goosebumps break out at the proximity, but I maintain my silence. I watch the bartender slide her drink across the wooden counter and sigh because I know she is going to be sitting here for at least another few minutes. It doesn't escape me that the bartender is staying abnormally close to us, which is also irritating.
“So, is this how mature people are handling things now?” Dear Lord, is she talking to me now? I take another sip and hope like hell, she gets the picture. “I mean, obviously, I offended you somehow, right? That is the only explanation for how you are acting. So why don’t you tell me how I, a relative stranger, offended you so we can handle it like mature adults.” I turn to look at her, seriously shocked she is still sitting here, and I plan to tell her just that, but then Nosy McNosy chimes in.
“Hardly a stranger, your highness.” I turn and look at him, giving him the death glare. He covers his mouth and has the nerve to look sheepish. “My apologies. A habit of the job,” he says before scurrying away from us.
“So you’re that guy?” she continues on. Can I be honest? The more she talks, the harder my cock gets, and that is pissing me the fuck off. I need to get her away from me. Hell, I need to finish my drink and get home before the storm comes through. She is still going on and on, and I have had it. Turning to her, I say the three words sure to get her away from me.
“People are staring. You know that, right?” Her mouth pops open, then closes and opens once more before she looks around. I know what she sees because I have been looking at it since she followed me in here. People are side-eyeing us and looking down real quickly when they notice us looking at them. Hell, I am pretty sure one of them had a phone and was taking pictures.
“Great. Just great!” she shouts before slamming her glass down and stomping her way through the bar and out the door. I turn back to my drink, but then my mind runs over several things. First, I didn’t see her with a car or a driver. In fact, I didn’t notice any of her guards with her.
This brings me to number two. If she is alone, then it is likely she doesn’t have a way home and if that is true, she is going to be stranded in a snowstorm. “Shit,” I say, pulling money out of my pocket and throwing it on the counter. I grab my coat and hat and walk toward the door. At first, when I walk out, I don't see her, but then, when I walk further across the lot, I find her sitting on a bench. “Do you have a car or a driver nearby or coming to get you?” I ask her, wrapping my scarf around me. I can see it rolling in as we speak, and I am anxious to go back to my place.
“No,” she says real low. “I sort of left willy-nilly, and now my phone battery is dead.” Of course, why would a royal be worried about something like a charged phone? Maybe her phone charger maid left early or something. Instantly, I feel horrible for even thinking it. I am really an asshole.
“Well, then, you are going to have to come with me.” She looks at me like I am crazy, and let me tell you, I don't think she is wrong. I have no idea what I am doing. All I know is something in me feels really protective over her right now and leaving her to this storm will not let me sleep.
“I don’t think so,” she says, putting her hand on her hip.
