To Steal a Prince

by Cora Caraway

  “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  “There,” I point. “By that fountain would be great.”

  Rashad slows.

  “I’ll open my own door, if you don’t mind.”

  He nods. “As you wish.”

  The car stops by the curb.

  “Thank you, Rashad. And…” I hesitate. “Could you wait a few hours before telling the prince where I’ve gone?”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  I step out, and the car purrs away. I sit on the edge of the fountain, a little stunned. My last link to the palace is gone. I’m not entirely sure if that’s good or not.

  For a moment I just rest, basking in the sun and staring at the giant fish in the center of the fountain. It’s leaping, spurting water high into the air. Pigeons roost on its scaled head. People hurry past, searching for coffee and breakfast. It’s still too early for the tourists. No one spares a glance at the fountain, or at me.

  Mist falls on my face. I hope Damon won’t be too upset by my disappearance. Really though, I needed to leave. It’s what’s best for Damon and his family. They could obviously see that I didn’t fit in there. I try to convince myself that it’s also what’s best for me. I feel another pang at the thought of never seeing Damon again.

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  I almost fall into the fountain. Nic sits beside me, dark sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

  “How’d you find me?” I glance around, but I don’t see a palace car anywhere.

  “It’s my job.”

  “I thought your job was to protect Damon.”

  “It is.” He stares straight ahead. As far as I can tell, anyway.

  “I didn’t steal anything, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why come after me?”

  Nic scratches the back of his neck. Is he actually capable of being uncomfortable?

  “You can’t leave. Not yet.”

  “And why not?”

  He sighs. “He’s never had a girl run from him before. I don’t know what it’d do to his ego.”

  I scoff. “He can’t care if I stay or go. I’m just some random girl who crashed his car.”

  “The prince may have given you the wrong impression. He really loved that car. Not just anyone could have gotten away with totaling it.”

  I stare at the cobblestones, trying to decide whether to believe him.

  “You don’t have to stay forever. I’m just asking you not to leave yet.”

  Adjusting my bag, I stare into the traffic that whizzes around us. “How long do you think I’ll last?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Until he replaces me with another girl.”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” The bodyguard cracks his knuckles. “What do you think he’s going to do if you go now? Mourn eternally? You’re guaranteed to lose him if you don’t give him a chance.”

  Well shit. He has a point.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s callous just because he’s rich. He’s going to miss you. Trust me on that one. And who do you think he’ll blame if he gets hurt?”

  “He couldn’t blame you. You’re just the bodyguard.”

  Nic takes off his sunglasses, looking deep into my eyes. “The heart is part of the body.”

  I have to laugh. “That’s incredibly cheesy.”

  “Do you like it?” He puts his sunglasses on again, but a small smile plays across his lips. “I’ve always wanted to use it as a pickup line. I would have, if I weren’t always so busy looking after the prince.”

  “The world will never know what it’s missing.”

  “I made you laugh. You have to at least consider coming back.”

  The thought stirs up equal parts joy and terror. “I don’t know. It’s not Damon, it’s just that I don’t belong there. The jewels, the wealth, the pretention, none of that’s me.”

  “Maybe that’s why he needs you.”

  The wind shifts, sending flecks of mist drifting over us. I have to admit, I do feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing Damon again. It’s only been what, eight hours since I saw him last?

  I stand, stretching in the morning light. “All right. I’ll go back. But I’m doing you a favor, you know. Someone has to protect you from the prince’s wrath.”

  “I’ll owe you one.” Nic waves his hand, and a palace car emerges from behind the fountain.

  I need to learn how to do that. I’d never need to hotwire again if I could simply summon cars.

  Nic lets me open my own door. He sits beside me, uncomfortably close with his bulky body. As the driver pulls away, Nic puts up the partition.

  “There’s something else I wanted to discuss with you before we get back. I reviewed the security tapes from the museum. There’s only one suspicious point. There’s a gap in the footage, but this girl’s bag is different from one frame to the next. Look familiar?”

  The pheasant turns in my stomach as I look over the pictures. It’s obviously me, bag and all. I’m still wearing the same clothes.

  “You think I stole the crown?” I thrust the pictures back at him. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to be a tourist.”

  “I never said you stole anything … besides the Koenigsegg, of course. The prince is in possession of the crown, so it seems there’s no criminal to pursue.”

  In the partition, my reflection glares back at me. I hope it’s convincing. “You still think I took it, though. So why take me back?”

  Nic’s reflection betrays no emotion. “I can handle a challenge.”

  Great. I thought he and I were starting to get along, but it looks like we’re back to square one.

  The ride back to the palace goes quickly, though Nic and I sit in silence. The gates open for me once again, then shut me inside. My only consolation is that the prince is in here too.

  The car comes to a halt in front of the main staircase.

  “Go in and wait for me,” Nic says. “I still haven’t decided what to do with you.” Reaching over, he opens the door. I step out before he decides to push me.

  My palms sweat as I walk inside. What’s he going to do, tell on me? But then why did he insist that I come back in the first place? Does he just want to show his boss how great he is at security by humiliating me? I’d really rather not find out.

  Regret washes over me as I lean against a pillar. I’ve been back for two minutes and I’m already sick of the games and uncertainty. This is why I left in the first place.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  Damon approaches in a coal blazer. His eyes have taken on a blue slate color. How does he manage to make it feel like my problems don’t exist?

  “I’m feeling better now.”

  “You have your bag. Are you leaving?”

  I remember what Nic told me about the prince’s ego. He was probably exaggerating, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  “Of course not,” I say. “I just wanted to get some air.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Well … I told Nic that I was going, and he asked me to wait for him here.”

  “Nic? You don’t need him. I can escort you on a walk around the grounds.”

  I pause. I don’t want to anger the bodyguard, especially when he has something over me. But if I tell Damon why I need to wait for Nic, I might as well reveal everything.

  “What’s wrong? Do you not trust me to protect you?” Damon teases. “I’m just as scary as Nic if I don’t get enough coffee in the morning.”

  “And have you gotten your caffeine fix today?”

  “Not yet, luckily for you.” He holds out an arm. “Would you like an extended tour?”

  I hesitate. His arm is tempting, but there’s something more important I need to ask.

  “What is it?” He lowers his arm slowly, and I can tell he’s hurt by my rejection.

  “Nic was telling me about security…”

  Damon puts his
hands in his pockets. “Then he should have told you that it’s perfectly safe within the palace walls. Guards, cameras, motion sensors. Nothing can hurt you here.”

  “It’s not that.” I pause, wondering if there’s a way to ask this without losing any trust he has in me.

  He looks at me expectantly.

  “What did you do with the crown?”

  Instead of bristling, he relaxes. “That’s all? I put in in my room.”

  “Where?”

  “On my bedside table.”

  Ugh. I can’t leave him now. He really does need me.

  “What is it?”

  I try to remain calm. “You can’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Leave it in plain sight like that!”

  He chuckles. “No one’s going to steal it. I trust everyone who has access to my room.”

  “Which is exactly how someone could steal it.” I sigh. “Rule number one is that you can’t trust anyone. Haven’t you ever read Machiavelli? He would be perfect for you.”

  “Of course I’ve read Machiavelli. But you can’t take him too seriously. It would be a lonely life if you never trusted anyone.”

  “But you can’t.” The words come out a little angrier than I anticipated.

  “Not even you?”

  “Especially not me. But if you have to trust someone, it should be the person who’s honest enough to tell you that they’re not trustworthy.”

  His mouth quirks at the corner. “I’m not sure if that’s crazy or brilliant.”

  “It can be both. Now, let me help you keep it safe.”

  “You?”

  “I am a thief, you know.”

  “I do. I saw you put the crown back.”

  He might as well have punched me in the stomach. I feel like I can’t get any air into my lungs. Has he really caught me twice now?

  I think I might throw up. “Wait … seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I wanted to see what you would do next.”

  The shock waves of his confession still ripple through me as I try to gather myself.

  A sly smile plays on his lips. “You said you would protect the crown. What do you propose?”

  The relief I feel at his question is immeasurable. Nic has nothing on me now. Damon knows that I stole and returned the crown, and he’s not going to throw me out of the palace. Instead, he’s going to take me up on my offer. Turns out he’s smart and sexy, a dangerous combination. But I can’t think about that now. I have work to do.

  “A shell game,” I say. “That’s the answer.”

  “What’s that?”

  I glance around, looking for eavesdroppers. No one’s near, but you can never be too careful. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

  “Sure. I’ll take you to the crown.”

  His hand on the small of my back, he leads me up the main spiral staircase. I feel a small thrill as I realize that he’s taking me to his room. The excitement dulls a bit when I wonder how many women have seen it before me. I try to brush that from my thoughts. I’m not sure if I can entirely trust Nic, but he told me the prince would miss me if I left. That’s what I need to hold onto.

  “Do these stairs never end?” I try not to let on that I’m getting winded, but the winding steps are taking their toll. Outside, the height of the palace is striking. In here, it’s just exhausting.

  “Tired?” Damon’s eyes shine. “Next time we’ll take the elevator.”

  “There’s an elevator? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not as impressive. Besides, we’re almost there.”

  “Almost there” feels like it takes about 2,000 steps, but we finally reach the third level.

  “I’m in the South Wing.” The prince lightly steers me in the right direction.

  The carpet is plush under my feet, a nice break from the marble stairs. We walk until we reach a door carved with a crowned lion.

  “Here we are.” Damon swings the door wide.

  The sight takes my breath away. I almost wonder if he’s shown me the wrong place. This whole thing can’t be a room.

  Sunlight streams through wide-open windows. From up here, I can smell a hint of the far-off sea. One wall is covered with a mural of fighting lions, and another showcases a collection of swords in front of a ceiling-high shelf of leather books. And that’s not even the craziest thing.

  “What do you think? Does it meet your standards?”

  “There’s a river in here,” I say stupidly. In my defense, it’s true. It snakes around the room, a few bridges arching over it.

  “There is.” Damon looks bemused. I guess he gets this reaction a lot. “It flows into my pool.”

  Craning my neck, I take in the pool that hangs over the side of the palace. Its sides are made of glass, and the water seems to float in the air. No one could ever convince me to swim in that thing. It looks like a death trap.

  I edge away from the pool, as if it could reach up and take me in its watery claws. Damon beckons me to follow him, and we walk over one of the bridges to his bed. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s a bed. It could be a landing strip for small jets.

  “I believe you were saying something about a shell game?”

  “Yes.” I clear my throat, trying to ignore the ostentatious display of wealth around me that my family couldn’t hope to attain if they worked for a million years. “Sorry, the shell game.” The crown sits on a nightstand beside a bottle of 1975 Petrus. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Though I’m tempted to take a swig of wine, I only take the crown. I also retrieve the fake from my bag.

  “This one’s real.” I hold out his crown. “And this one’s fake.”

  “With you so far.”

  I switch them in my hands a few times. “Now which one’s real?”

  “That’s easy.” He points.

  “What about now?” Turning my back to him, I block his view. I make it look and sound like I’m moving a lot, but really I do nothing. I face him. “Now which is yours?”

  He frowns, pondering. I can’t blame him. In this light, the gems are the same color. “That one.” He points again, this time to the other crown.

  “Are you sure?”

  His forehead wrinkles in frustration.

  “Don’t worry. That’s the whole point. Only we are supposed to know which is which.”

  “You still know, don’t you?”

  “I always know.” Adrenaline tingles in my limbs. Even the prince can’t always tell these crowns apart. “Now, show me where you’d put the crown if you were trying to keep it safe. Be very public about it.”

  “That would be the Jewel Room, I suppose. I was going to take it down there soon anyway. What do you mean by being public about it?”

  “I don’t know…” I look around his room. “Do you have some kind of throw pillow we could carry it on?”

  He plucks one of the approximately 10,000 pillows from his bed and hands it to me. It looks very regal, covered in crushed velvet. Stuffing one of the crowns into my bag, I set the other on the pillow. It looks very official.

  Damon’s eyes narrow as he looks at the crown, then at me. “Let’s take the elevator this time.”

  We stride to the silver elevator, the prince nodding at every servant we pass. They all gawk at the shining crown. I’m sure they see plenty of stunning accessories, but surely none this important. A bell dings softly as the elevator doors slip open for us. We step in, and Damon pushes a button for L1. It looks like there are nine levels to the palace: L3, L2, L1, floors one through five, and R.

  “What’s on the lower levels?” I ask.

  “I could tell you, but I’d have to set a lion on you.”

  I don’t press him. I’m sure a royal family has plenty of secrets to keep.

  The elevator sets us down softly, dinging again to let us know that we’ve arrived. The lights that run along the ceiling are harsh and clin
ical, discouraging the desire to linger. Damon turns down a sterile hallway that ends in a black door.

  “This is as solid as they get.” He hits the door, his hand making a dull thud. “I’ve heard this thing could stop a rocket launcher. Father won’t let me test that claim, though. He’s no fun, as you must have already noticed.” The prince raises a finger to the digital pad beside the door.

  I turn away politely, wondering how hard that lock would be to crack. Though I try, I can’t help but count the number of digits Damon enters. Nine. Waits for a beep. And then five. But what’s the point in breaking in when you’re friends with royalty?

  There’s a loud clunk, and the door swings open.

  “After you,” Damon says.

  I step in, barely aware that Damon shuts the door behind us. Bright lights blaze as we enter, almost blinding me. My eyes slowly adjust to the sunburst of jewels sparkling on every surface.

  There are rubies, emeralds, diamonds. Opals, amethysts, pearls. And those are the ones I can name. They throw rainbow reflections on the walls, and I grow dizzy as I try to take in everything at once. Rows upon rows of displays show turquoise rings and bracelets, earrings and necklaces. If I covered myself in new jewels every day, I still couldn’t wear them all in three lifetimes.

  “We should probably keep moving,” Damon says. “This is just the first room.”

  “You mean there’s more?”

  He ushers me through two more rooms, and I try not to gape too long at the jewel-studded statues and lions made of hammered gold.

  The last room has a door of steel.

  “This is the vault. They say it’ll survive a nuclear blast, but I’ll believe it when I see it.” Damon punches in another code, and the door hisses open. The room contains nothing but a nondescript cabinet, like the designer got worn out from all the wealth in the earlier rooms.

  “A bit anticlimactic, isn’t it?” Damon opens the double doors.

  “Not anymore.”

  Inside sit neat rows of crowns. The ones on the bottom are gathering dust, but the ones on top look recently polished.

  “Those are the historic crowns.” Damon points to the dust-covered ones. “They should really be in a museum, but Father wouldn’t allow it. I thought the people should see at least one. That’s partly why I lent that one,” he nods at the one I carry on the pillow, “and we know how that turned out.”