The first one who spoke scoffs. “Contrary to what some people think, we’re plenty competent.”

“Jim,” Marcus barks from the driver’s seat. There’s a clear note of warning in his voice. The two other agents climb into the car.

“We got the all clear,” one of them says.

“What took so long?” Jim asks.

“They had to get approval from Michael, too,” is the response.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jim roll his eyes in the seat next to me.

“Okay… I feel like I’m missing something here,” I state. The car is silent.

Marcus finally speaks. “Her Highness requested her own security team accompany you on this trip. Richard refused to allow it, since she has a public outing scheduled for this evening. So she insisted we run any unplanned outings past her team instead.”

“I don’t get it. You guys are great. Why would Vivienne want to send her team with me instead?”

“Agents are assigned in the Royal Guard based upon seniority, Mr. Dawson,” Marcus responds.

I still don’t get it, and Jim must see my confused expression. “The royal family gets the best agents,” he states bluntly.

“Oh.” I’m touched and annoyed. Touched Viv cares this much. And annoyed her way of showing so has resulted in the incredibly awkward moment I currently find myself in.

The trip from the hotel to the football stadium is a short one. It’s weird to enter through the side door that leads to the suites rather than pulling into the player’s parking lot. I’m hustled past the security set-up and into an elevator. The attendant in the corner does a double take when he sees me, but doesn’t say anything besides asking for the suite we’re headed to.

The game is painful to watch. Not necessarily because I wish I was down on the field playing, although there are certainly flashes of that, but because the Sharks are trampled. The final score is 40-6.

I texted Cooley earlier, letting him know I was coming to the game after all, and he responds as we’re driving back to the hotel from the stadium.

Bet you’re glad you came, he replies.

There’s always next season, I text back. He sends a series of beer emojis I take to mean he’s more interested in a drink than a pep talk right now.

I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the hotel pillow and groan when my alarm goes off what feels like only seconds later. As much as I would love to go back to sleep, I’m even more eager to return to Marcedenia. I meet my security team in the lobby of the hotel, and we head straight to the private airport. I fall back asleep on the plane, and the five-hour flight passes quickly.

It’s the middle of the afternoon in Marcedenia by the time we pull up at the front gate. We’re waved through and stop in front of the main doors. My security team makes quick work of unloading themselves and the luggage. I’ve just stepped inside the door when a cloud of strawberry blonde hair blocks my view of the entryway. Years of football training are the main reason I manage to stay vertical as Viv leaps on me.