1. Soren
SOREN
“You are a prince of Belvaria. The prince of Belvaria does not go to jail!”
I winced at my father’s advisor, Bastian, screeching from the other end of the line. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. No other prince from our lineage—as far as I knew—had ever gone to jail.
And then there was me. First to be deposed. First to be kicked out of the country of his birth. First to have a police record.
Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea calling home, but it’d only taken three months of being on my own to land in jail in an unfamiliar country because of people who’d pretended to be good but really weren’t.
I had one phone call, and the only people I could ask for help were the same ones who had banished me from my country.
The situation was sad, pathetic even, but what choice did I have?
Gripping the receiver of the wall-mounted phone inside a California police station, I closed my eyes tight and swallowed my pride.
Behind me, a drunk man snored on a metal bench, and the officer who had arrested me for allegedly dining and dashing watched me with open amusement over a bag of pretzels.
In Belvaria, the police were helpful. Here, they took your statement and then used it to laugh at you.
Three months ago, I’d had a valet, a security detail, a formal schedule, and a country that expected me to become king one day.
Now all I had was one phone call in jail.
And like an idiot, I had used it to call Bastian, the royal household’s most terrifying butler. But he was also trustworthy and my father’s confidant. He would be discreet, so this little news wouldn’t get out to the press while he was sending help.
“Lower your voice,” I whispered. “No one else must know.”
“I will not lower my voice,” Bastian said, sounding as though I had personally dragged the entire monarchy through filth. “You will explain yourself immediately.”
“There is nothing to explain. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“And yet here you are, calling me from a police station.”
“A temporary police station.”
“That is not a category of police station!”
“It is temporary because I don’t intend to remain here, and as soon as someone listens to me, they’ll let me go.”
“Prince Soren.”
I closed my eyes.
God, that tone.
Bastian had been with the Royal Household since before I was born, and when he said my name like that, I became eight years old again, standing beside a shattered porcelain urn while insisting the family dog looked suspicious.
“I did not commit a crime,” I said.
“Then why are you in jail?”
“Because Americans don’t listen very well,” I said, aware that my tone was impatient. “And when you try to explain that your friends are the ones responsible for the restaurant bill and not you, the police aren’t very helpful.”
I stared directly at the junk-food-eating cop, who only snickered at me, proving my point. Something told me it wasn’t the first time he had heard that complaint.
From somewhere on Bastian’s end of the line came the faint clink of china.
“A restaurant bill,” he repeated. “You were arrested over food?”
“Not food. The bill following the food. There’s a distinction.”
“Not enough of a distinction to improve this situation.”
I turned my shoulder toward the room, trying to make myself smaller, which was difficult when one had spent an entire childhood being trained to stand tall.
“Some people invited me to dinner,” I said. “They left before the bill arrived, and I didn’t have enough to cover it.”
“Have you blown through the money your father gave you?”
“Maybe, but it was for a good cause. See, I met this woman who had a sick daughter—”
“Prince Soren, enough with the excuses. I thought you wanted to prove to everyone who doubted you that you were not a screwup! This does not help your case in any way.”
“I didn’t leave. I was told to get out.”
But he was right. When I left Belvaria, crushed at walking away from my family, I had vowed to make something of myself and show them that I wasn’t helpless. I could take care of myself and be successful on my own.
This was hardly what success looked like.
“Because of your own foolish mistake.” Bastian’s heavy sigh came across the line. “Tell me exactly where you are, and I will organize to have you released.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’re right, Bastian. I got myself into this mess, and I’ll get myself out of it. Please don’t tell Father about this disappointment. Goodbye, Bastian.”
“Prince—”
I placed the receiver back on the hook and let out a shuddering breath. What now? I’d turned down the only person who could prove I was exactly who I claimed to be.
“If you’re finished with your call, Your Royal Highness”—the cop gave a mocking bow and stretched out his hand—“will you come this way, please?”
“Laugh all you want,” I mumbled under my breath as I followed him. “It doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Of course. In that case, I am the newly minted bishop of Rome.”
I clenched my teeth, ignoring him as he led me to a small room with a table and a couple of chairs.
“Stay here, and I’ll be back shortly. Maybe have a think about whether you want to keep up this charade of yours or come clean about who you really are.”
Left alone in the room, I had no choice but to sit on the hard chair while trying not to cry and failing. Maybe I shouldn’t have hung up on Bastian after all.
I had chosen California as the place to spread my wings and prove to my father that I could still be someone without the backing of the royal family because this was where my mother had come from.
I’d thought I would feel a sense of belonging here, but I’d only run into one rotten person after another.
No one could be trusted, and because of that, I might have to spend time in prison.
The door opened again, and this time Officer Smalling was not alone. Another cop entered with him, this one taller and bald, but he didn’t look as mean.
You can’t judge someone by the way they look. Haven’t you learned anything?
“This is Officer Vale,” Smalling said by way of introduction. “And this right here is the thief who claims he’s a prince of some country no one’s even heard of. If you ask me, he belongs in a psychiatric ward.”
“I am not mentally challenged, nor am I a thief!” I cried. “I am a prince. Prince Soren Maximilian Aurelius Leontes of Belvaria. If you would check, you would see that I am right.”
“How about we just call you Soren for now?” Officer Vale advanced toward me. “Prince or not, you did skip out on the restaurant bill. Now, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“If you won’t believe me anyway, why should I say it again?”
“Because I am trying to help you.” Officer Vale nodded to Smalling. “I’ll handle it.”
“Suit yourself. I say charge him now and ask for a psychiatric evaluation.”
Smalling left, closing the door behind him. Officer Vale took the seat across from me and smiled gently. “Soren, why don’t we start over? I apologize on behalf of Officer Smalling if he’s been unprofessional. It’s not often we get dine-and-dashers who claim to have descended from royalty.”
“Do you believe me then?”
“I want to believe you. How about we start from the top? What’s your full name and age?”
“My name is Prince Soren Maximilian Aurelius Leontes, and I am twenty-two years old,” I said for what must have been the fifth time.
“Thank you, Soren. What are the names of the people you were dining with?”
I told him exactly what happened. My roommate, Daphne, and her two friends had invited me to a restaurant for dinner because I had been feeling pretty down.
I’d visited the house where my mother was raised as a foster child, and the new owner hadn’t allowed me to enter the property even though I’d explained who I was and asked nicely.
When we got to the restaurant, I didn’t eat much, but Daphne and her friends ordered expensive meals from the menu. During dessert, they snuck out after telling me they were going to the restroom. They never returned, and when I tried to leave to find them, the restaurant manager was called.
I only knew the first names of Daphne’s friends but was able to give Officer Vale Daphne’s full name, along with her apartment location, where she’d told me I could stay with her until I found a job.
“You have my phone!” I said, feeling more vibrant now. “If you check the messages, you will see where Daphne invited me to dinner, and when I reminded her I couldn’t pay, she said she would cover the bill.”
“That would help,” Officer Vale said. “But we would need your permission to view the contents.”
“Of course.”
I was so foolish for not having thought of that earlier.
Perhaps if the other officer had been more empathetic and allowed me to think, I would have remembered the conversation on my phone.
In under an hour, Officer Vale had not only confirmed my story, but he’d also returned to let me know that he’d explained the situation to the restaurant manager and convinced them to not press charges.
Officer Vale had even covered the cost of the meals for me.
“Really?” I was so happy that a tear slipped down my cheek.
He nodded with a smile. “You’re free to go.”
“Thank you so much.” I rose to my feet. Feeling the overwhelming urge to hug him, I asked, “Can I hug you?”
His eyebrows rose, and I thought he would refuse, but he nodded. “Sure.”
I hadn’t had a hug from anyone in such a long time.
I immediately broke down as his arms came around me in a pat.
It reminded me that I hadn’t really cried once since my life descended into this nightmare.
Not when I’d found out Felipe had only slept with me to get his hands on an important bilateral agreement between Belvaria and another country.
Not when I’d been stripped of my rank. And not when I’d been dumped at the airport with a one-way ticket across the world without any guarantee that I would ever be allowed back.
“Oh my, you are a mess, aren’t you?” Officer Vale held me away from him and handed me a handkerchief. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
The tears came faster even as I tried to stop the flow. “N-n-no. There’s no one. My mother’s dead, and my father is busy raising the next crown prince so he doesn’t become a failure like me.”
A beat of silence and then, “Are you certain you are not on any medication?”
I gave a short laugh. “I wish. Then I could take them again, and this nightmare would be over.”
“My shift just ended,” Officer Vale said. “Well, it did an hour ago, but that’s beside the point. I can give you a ride home.”
I shouldn’t. With the way my luck had been running lately, I really shouldn’t, and I said as much to him.
“Okay, thank you.” I blew my nose in his handkerchief. “But I probably should tell you that, from the way my luck is lately, if you’re not a serial killer disguised as a nice police officer, we’ll probably be run over by a truck.”
Officer Vale threw his head back and laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll risk it.”