Page 1 of Taken By the Barbarian King

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Lottie

“Hey, I’m not the princess. Focus on her.” I put my hand up to cover my face as a photographer aims his camera lens at me.

Seriously! How hard is it to get? I’m the help. The personal assistant. I don’t need my mug plastered all over the papers, thank you very much.

The guy shrugs and turns his attention back to her.

Princess Alexandra.

She’s beautiful and perfect in every way imaginable. The crown princess of the UK and the darling of the media. Definitely something I’m not. But that’s okay. I’m much more of a behind-the-scenes person. I excel at making other people look good.

Princess Alexandra throws her back in a laugh as a puppy jumps into her lap and starts licking her cheek. The sun is shining at just the right angle to set off her newly highlighted blonde hair. Her baby pink cardigan over baby pink dress is the perfect reflection of her young, wholesome, and hopeful brand.

The cameras are eating it up.

“Ten more minutes, people.” We need to move along. She’s due at a food bank later this afternoon and then a gala dinner tonight to fundraise for veterans. The princess maintains a very busy schedule, filled with very important things to do. Some people might argue that looking beautiful and posing for photographs isn’t real work, but I would beg to differ. We have data that prove her involvement in a cause increases donations by at least twenty percent. But it’s more than that–Alexandra is genuine. She really cares about the causes she backs. That’s why I, the British public, and people all over the world love her.

I check my watch again and confirm that yes, indeed, we need to get inside in ten and get on with our day.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of a furry little critter with a mischievous glint in its eye.

“Grab that one!” I push the animal shelter volunteer toward one particular puppy sniffing around the hem of my boss’s dress. “He’s going to wee on the princess!”

The volunteer stares at me dumbfoundedly and I stifle a groan. Can’t trust anyone to do anything these days. If you want things done right, you have to do them yourself.

I dart out from behind a photographer and grab the puppy around his middle. But I’m too late. Just as I lift him off the ground, there goes a stream of yellowish fluid arcing through the air.

I spin away from the princess, but that only turns the damn puppy into a yapping little sprinkler. The row of photographers shrieks as pee sprays in their direction.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry!” I drop the puppy who lands on all fours and scampers away like he hasn’t just contaminated everyone at the photoshoot–me included. My hands are covered in puppy pee. Ugh.

I hold my hands away from me, not entirely sure what to do now. I need to scrub them–immediately–but I can’t leave Princess Alexandra unattended.

“Oh goodness, Lottie, are you all right?” she asks, one hand covering her mouth to hide a laugh.

“Yes, of course, ma’am.” I give my hands a shake. “Just, erm…”

She laughs again. “Go ahead and wash yourself off. I’ll be fine.”

I glance at her, still seated on the low stool in the middle of the grassy courtyard. Her personal protection officer is hovering not far away, as is her stylist team. She’ll be okay on her own for a few minutes, won’t she?

The scent of puppy pee stings my nose.

Yes, the princess will have to be fine, because I can’t go another second like this. I rush inside to the loo and stick my hands under water that is hot enough to scald. I don’t care. Burning off the top layer of my skin doesn’t sound quite so horrific at the moment. I scrub my hands with soap, counting the full thirty seconds to make sure every trace of germs is gone before rinsing and drying.

“Ahhh!”

The blood-curdling scream is followed immediately by a thunder of feet and more screams.

What the fuck was that?

I rush out of the toilets to find a wave of people running down the corridor, in the opposite direction of the courtyard. Shit. The princess. I need to find Alexandra.

It’s like swimming upstream trying to push past all the photographers, animal shelter staff, and volunteers. When I finally burst into the courtyard, my brain can’t comprehend the utter chaos that I find.

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