Savage hands lunge for me, and the guards quickly knock them back.
What the hell have I done?
Prince Liam holds out a placating hand to his sheeple, urging them to calm down, that the matter will be dealt with “with swift justice.”
Not placated in the least, the angry mob follows Prince Liam and his train of guards, beefy men wearing business suits. They try like hell to get their hands on me. A long arm shoots through a tangle of limbs and grabs a fistful of my hair.
The guard seizes its owner, yanking her back and pulling several hairs out by the roots in the process. Tears spring to my eyes as the pain rips through my head.
“Ow!”
“Fucking bitch!”
“Get back!”
Prince Liam turns around at the sound of the commotion, and he glances at me, a faint frown knitting his forehead. “Do not allow her to be harmed, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, sir.”
Heat rises in my cheeks as pissed-off women intent on ripping me to pieces press in from all sides, held at bay by the guards.
Way to keep a low profile, Daisy. Job well done.
My compounding sense of horror is punctuated by a brief spell of awe as we walk up the hill toward the castle, which looks like something straight out of Cinderella. Huge, cylinder towers with embattled stone walls and arrowslits. Midnight-blue-and-gold flags whip proudly on the battlements. We stop in front of the gatehouse, which is guarded by a lattice grill of metal and wood. The portcullis shudders and groans before rising out of the ground. Guards keep the mob at bay as the prince leads the procession inside. The gate grinds into the earth the moment I’m through, and then the mob of irate Anglefell women wrap their hands around the bars and scream at me.
My heart pounds as I take in my surroundings. A large courtyard fills the open space inside the castle walls. A road follows the circular interior, and within that circle is a simple green lawn with a fountain. White flowers are arranged in patches bordering the edge of the grass. Across it are what I’m guessing are the other structures of the castle: the bakery, the stables, and the keep. The keep will be the biggest tower at the center of all the fortifications. It’s where the king lives, no doubt.
The prince watches me take in his home with a bemused smile. “Take her to one of the dungeons.”
“A dungeon? Are you serious?”
It’s as though a vacuum stole my insides. I want to crumple forward, collapse over myself.
Every woman wants to fuck a prince.
A cell? Just for giving the bastard a well-deserved slap?
Shaken, I follow the guards’ pressure on my arms as we head immediately to the right and down a set of uneven stairs to a heavy wooden door. The guard raises his fist and rams it against it. The door opens, and suddenly I’m led down a corridor with rows of modernized cells. The structure is still archaic, but it looks like every cell has plumbing and electricity and oh my God, who the fuck cares?
There are no diplomatic relations between the United States and Anglefell.
Americans who do not enter Anglefell with a valid visa, a predetermined schedule, and an escort accompanying them at all times will be detained and questioned.
“Open!”
The bars of the cell electronically slide against the wall, and I walk inside the five-by-nine space in numb disbelief that within less than twenty-four hours in this country I’ve managed to get myself arrested. I need to call someone—I have no idea what kind of trouble I’m in. Shit! I can’t just pick up the phone and dial the State Department.
The loud clang of the cell door slamming shut rattles through my soul. I pace the length of the room as a tight feeling wraps around my chest, forcing myself to breathe. I’m here on a Canadian passport, but I’m an American citizen. I could’ve used my American passport to enter the country, but then I would’ve had to be accompanied by an escort at all times. The authorities would have gone through the film on my camera and deleted photos they didn’t like. It would have ruined everything.
The plan seemed brilliant at the time.
My hands seize as I hear a distant groan of a door swinging open, and I wince as the handcuffs cut into my wrists. I sit down on the hard bench, my bones immediately protesting. Slow footsteps echo through the hallway, and a familiar English-accented voice