“You do not touch her,” Artur was telling him, while Jonas struggled and kicked, his feet a good foot off the ground. “Ever. Do you understand, biped?”

“Not—one of—your subjects,” he coughed.

“Then I will simply have to beat you until you comply.”

“This shirt—cost—one-fifty—at Macy’s—” he gurgled.

Artur set him down (reluctantly, it seemed to Jonas).

“Good thing you did that,” he said, straightening his clothing and blowing his hair out of his eyes, “because I was about to kick your fishy ass into the seal tank.”

Artur laughed politely.

“Crushin’ on Fred, eh?” It had to be Fred. It sure as shit better not be Dr. Barb or there’d be a beat-down, all right, and Mr. Hotshit Prince might get a surprise.

“I do not know what that—”

“Yes you do. Get in line, pal. But don’t worry about me, Fred and I are nothing more than friends. Just realize there are other men out there. Even if…”

“Even if…?”

“She’s oblivious.”

Artur nodded, stroking his too-cool red beard. Not too long, not absurdly short—like the little bear in Goldilocks, it was just right. “That is well,” he said at last.

“Oh, right, real well. Listen—”

“Morons!” Fred’s grating voice cut through their private chat. “Are you coming, or not?”

“Where’s Dr. Barb?” he asked, peeking around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.

“She’s outta here. Didn’t even notice you.”

“Oh,” Jonas said. He faked enthusiasm. “That’s good, then.”

Fred gave him an odd look, and let them into the darkened halls of the NEA.

Chapter Thirteen

“It should be here somewhere.”

“What exactly are we looking for, Nancy Drew?”

Fred gave Jonas a look. They’d both gone through an insane Drew phase in the fourth grade, read the entire Nancy Drew series, talked about her and her friends and her borderline-absentee dad, and at the end had both decided it was a miracle Ms. Drew lived through any of her wacky adventures.

“What. Are. We. Looking. For?”

“I heard you the first time, moron. Anything Dr. Pearson might have left. He’s got to have notes, charts—something.”

“I dislike this skulking about,” the prince said, looking around the small, cluttered lab with distaste. “It ill becomes royalty. I prefer action.”

“Indulge the commoners, will ya?”

“Yeah, do that.” Fred picked up a clipboard and instantly became absorbed. Much more interesting than listening to the men in her life bitch and moan. How did wives and moms stand it?

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Jonas was saying, looking absently around the lab. “It’s not really my field. Now, if you want to talk about a hand cream that doubles as perfume…”

“I don’t know why you’re here either.” Jonas, she had decided three years ago, had an odd affection for the NEA. He’d been in it about a thousand times, and was always chatting up her boss and colleagues… even the volunteers who worked the gift shop. She happened to know he didn’t give a tin shit about oceans, sea life, stuffed seals, or penguins, so it was a bit of a mystery. “So go.”