Page 57 of Fallen Knight

But I can’t ignore the line of people snaking around the soup kitchen as I pass, making me feel like a complete fraud.

I arrive with an entourage —private secretaries, public relations reps, protection officers. I give a speech, bringing attention to an issue the royal household believes needs to be addressed, if for no other reason than doing so makes the royal family look sympathetic. Then I’m whisked away to my next engagement.

I encourage people to take a certain action, but I don’t take that action myself. Nor does anyone else in the royal family. How is that helping? Wouldn’t it seem much more genuine if the people saw me, as a representative of the monarchy, getting involved? Not making some speech before moving on to what’s next?

I stop in my tracks, causing Creed to nearly slam into me.

“Ma’am?” He narrows his gaze, meeting my eyes for the first time all day. “Is everything okay?”

I pinch my lips into a thin line and shake my head, my mind spinning with possibilities. Then, in one swift motion, I push past him, determination in my stride.

“Ms. Stewart,” I call out, making my way back toward her.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Are you short volunteers today?”

“Today and every day this month. I only have four people, including myself. As you can see, there’s a line around the block.”

She gestures behind her to the men and women lining the sidewalk in front of the soup kitchen, some with children in tow.

My heart aches when I see the blank expressions on some of the little faces. I’ve never known what it’s like to be without any of life’s basic necessities. To not know when the next time I’ll be able to eat will be. I’ll be damned if I walk away from this place without making sure each and every person who wants a warm meal gets one.

“Not to mention, no one with any experience in a kitchen to prepare the food, apart from me.”

“Then today’s your lucky day. I’ve got a small army of people at your disposal. And I went to culinary school, so I can run the kitchen.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” She blinks, confused and surprised.

Truth be told, I’m a bit surprised, too. No doubt I’ll get an earful from the royal household about this. But I don’t care. This is supposed to be a goodwill trip. What’s the point if I don’t do any goodwill myself?

“I’ll help. We all will.”

“Your Highness,” a voice growls behind me.

I ignore the shiver it causes down my spine, remembering all the times he growled my name as he had me bent over my desk and pounded into me.

With steely resolve, I lift my eyes to Creed’s. “Yes?”

“While I’m sure Ms. Stewart appreciates the gesture, there are security concerns.”

“Like what?” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Because you haven’t been able to run the requisite background checks?”

“Yes.”

“I’m allowed to greet people and pose for photos at other events. None of them had been screened.”

He leans down, eyes intense. “That’s because you’re not a sitting target like you would be in there.”

“Those people aren’t a threat to me, Creed,” I tell him, not backing down. Not from this. “They’rehungry. They just want a warm meal.” I look back at Ms. Stewart. “These people who come to your center, how often do they come?”

“Some every day.” Her expression falls. “Unfortunately, some days we have to turn them away because we don’t have anything left to give them.”

I turn toward Thomas and take his tablet, opening a notes app. I type feverishly for several moments before handing it back to my private secretary. “I want you to arrange for everything on this list.”

He looks between Creed and me, unsure who to listen to. When I give him a heated glare, holding my head higher, he finally nods.

“Certainly, ma’am.” With a slight bow, he spins, striding toward a few of my other staff members and issuing orders.

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