I pull my phone out of my pocket and power it back on. I learned the first time I snuck out of the palace to go for a run in the surrounding woods, it is a necessary step in order to have more than a few minutes to myself.

Instantly, the phone lights up with dozens of missed notifications. Sighing, I unlock the phone and tap on Michael’s name, figuring he’s the member of my security team least likely to yell at me.

He answers on the first ring. “Princess, where are you?”

“Just track me,” I reply, then hang up.

I’m in no mood for pleasantries, and I’m slightly buzzed. Alcohol makes me more impertinent than usual. I also have no idea where I actually am. I didn’t even take note of the name of the pub.

I set down the phone on the table just as two of the boys leave the group huddled around the barkeep to amble over to me.

One of them slides into the booth across from me with a friendly grin, while the other leans casually against the wooden divider separating my booth from the next.

“Looks like you’ve been here a while,” the guy standing remarks, nodding to the three empty glasses on the varnished tabletop.

“I didn’t have anything better to do tonight,” I respond.

“Are you looking for a better offer?”

“What are you offering?” I reply, enjoying the flirty banter. Most guys are too nervous to hit on me.

“Come along with us and find out,” he challenges.

I let out a short laugh. “How original. Unfortunately, I’ll have to pass. I’m expecting some friends soon. They’re pretty protective and highly unlikely to let me go off with a group of strangers.” I smirk. “No offense.”

“They can come along,” the seated boy offers.

I grin broadly at the suggestion, trying to imagine convincing my burly security team to let me drag them along on a bar crawl. “Not really their scene.”

I expect that to be the end of the conversation, but both boys linger.

“Feel free to stop bothering me at any time,” I finally add, annoyed their persistence means I likely won’t have any time to myself before my security team arrives.

The boy standing next to my table smirks.

“You’ve really lost your touch, Toby.” A new voice joins the conversation.

I look to my right to see the remaining three boys are walking over toward my now crowded booth, each carrying a couple of beers. “Oh good, there’s more of you,” I state sarcastically, resting my head against the hard wood comprising the back of the booth and resigning myself to the fact that my precious solitude is over. The movement shifts my raised hood. I realize my mistake immediately.

The boy who just spoke stares at me intently. “You look really familiar. Have we met before?”

“I doubt it.” I try to smother my unease with nonchalance. “But if we have, you weren’t very memorable.”