This is the first time I haven’t been nervous about Friday the 13th. I guess when you’ve been through hell and back like I’ve been, a little silly superstition really can’t phase you anymore.

“Such a stupid superstition,” I admit to Ben, who mentioned it a few minutes ago.

We’re finally alone again. For the first time in a very long time. Victor is handling another press conference before we have to go to the memorial multi-religion church service this morning. My uncle and his family are busy announcing their return to Chirnova. They’re already back at the main Palace, doing that press conference. Soon they’ll be moving into the castle that my grandfather gave them. It’s in the middle of their Dukedom, which isn’t too far from the capitol. That means they’ll be within reach if I need some help.

“Agreed,” he nods, his eyes still glued to the TV screen. He’s acquired a sudden obsession with watching the updates of the progress of rebuilding the train stations and monuments damaged by the February bombings.

As I go to say something I feel the familiar sensation of my phone buzzing in my sweatpants pocket. It’s probably Ash or Ave.

Yep. It’s Avery this time. She asks, By the way, do you think I should go with gold or silver for my prom dress? You remember those two versions of that one dress I was going back and forth with? Yeah, I need help choosing and Ash refuses to give an opinion.

I laugh at the thought of Ash locking herself in her room to keep from giving her opinion. For twins, Ash and Ave are completely different. Ash knows that, but Ave is a little reluctant to admit how different they are. I know Ashlyn probably just doesn’t want to start an argument. She would pick the silver though, I’m sure of it. Ave will choose gold. I know them better than they know each other sometimes.

Then a thought occurs to me: Prom is in a month—almost exactly—and I still haven’t done anything in terms of planning.

I don’t even answer her back—partly because I want her to choose for herself and partly because I’m in shock. It takes me a moment to realize that I’ve been so busy doing my princess business that I didn’t even bother to look at dresses. Not only do I not have a dress, I don’t have a date… and I don’t mean because Ben is currently unable to leave his hospital bed—and won’t be for three more weeks or so. My school district doesn’t allow anyone to bring a date 21 years of age or older because of drinking incidents in years past.

“I don’t have a prom dress,” I blurt out, still in disbelief. Senior Prom is something I’ve been looking forward to since the start of senior year. I can’t believe I forgot. I forgot. How do you forget senior prom?

Surprisingly, when I look up at him his eyes have shifted from the TV screen to me. He raises an eyebrow. “Your what dress?”

“Oh oops,” I snort at my cultural mistake. He has no idea what a prom is. This is Europe, not America. “Sorry, um, it’s like an annual dance that high schools have in America… and I don’t have a dress… or a date, actually.”

“Well, I could persuade them to let me out of here—.”

“Ah, no I don’t mean it like that, Ben. My school won’t allow anyone to bring dates 21 or over,” I explain before he tries to jump out of the bed himself. I know he would.

He purses his lips and makes a face. “But you’re still going, right?”

My hesitation makes him say, “You have to, Ann. Why don’t you just bring it up to Garret? I’m sure he won’t have a problem with you stealing another dress out of his inventory. They’re all meant for you to wear anyway.”

I’m skeptical. “Yeah, but all those dresses are meant for royal events—this is prom we’re talking about. I can at least wear a dress with no straps.”

“How do you know what he has hidden away someplace for you?” He smirks. “Knowing him I bet he’s got loads of dresses he hasn’t shown you yet. We’ll be attending a lot of movie premieres and charity events where protocol doesn’t apply.”

And just as I open my mouth to reply there’s a knock at the door. It makes both of us sigh and sag our shoulders. Even at nine in the morning we can’t get some alone time. It’s only been a half an hour since Victor left.

Gabe’s voice calls out through the cracked open door. “You have a half an hour left, Your Highnesses.”

“Don’t remind me, Gabe,” Ben calls across the room.

I glance over at the outfit ready to be worn to the memorial service being held in honor of all the people killed by the latest bombings and shootings. In a half an hour I have to be in that little mint-colored coat dress. As Garret says, mint is the new white.

“I wish I could be there,” Ben says with a hint of annoyance in his tone. “I want to honor the two men that gave their damn lives for me.”

Placing a hand on his, I assure him, “They’ll be remembered, Ben. Trust me, I don’t think anyone is going to forget the men that saved the life of a future King—or anyone that’s been killed these past few months.”

They’ve officially declared these last three months the most deadly in Chirnovian and Vladesvyan history since World War II. Yeah, it was that bad.

He tries to smile at my reassuring sentiment, but I know that hasn’t made him feel any better. I guess now I know what I was like for the first couple of months. Now I see how I acted, and why Ben got so frustrated with me at times. He’s doing the same thing to me now; acting all mopey and wishy-washy. I just want to make him feel better, but lately nothing has been working.

Except…

“I love you,” I tell him for the thousandth time this week.

That makes him smile, genuinely. “I love you too,” he replies, leaning in for a kiss.

I satisfy his need to kiss me. After all, it’s not often that we get alone time to actually do that—or at least do it the way we really want to. A quick peck on the cheek is great in public for publicity, but behind the scenes? In private? Ben’s too good of a kisser for me to resist.

The rest of the half hour is spent talking about anything but royal duties. We try not to get on the topic of the wedding in autumn, or the fact that we’re being sent by Victor as the official royal representatives at the next olympics. We stray from the topic of me moving here in the end of June. It’s important that we stay away from those kinds of topics because they only stress us out more.

As I exit the bathroom in my church outfit I hear him say, “You look beautiful.”

Even though he’s said that a thousand times before it still makes me blush. He still does that to me. Is that what love is? I need to consult with mom on that one.

“Thanks,” I smile and watch as his eyes follow me around the room. “You’re not looking so bad lately yourself,” I comment on his appearance. He’s gotten more color to his skin and doesn’t look so weak and sickly anymore. It’s a good thing he starts physical therapy next week. For an active guy like him, being on bed rest for too long is torture.

He snorts, “but I feel terrible.”

I grab my dark green clutch as the door opens. Gabe pops in. I hold my hand up before he gets the chance to say anything. I know what he’s here for.

When Ben gives me that puppy dog-eyed look I have no choice but to give him a peck on the lips goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon, love you,” I give his hand one more squeeze.

He nods, and manages a smile even though I know he’s upset we’re all leaving without him. “Of course… I love you too.”

Gabe, as always, isn’t phased when I lean in for one more kiss. He simply stands there, looking through his Blackberry until I walk out the door.

It’s weird not having Victor here, but somehow it’s kind of gratifying to be able to go to the service in a car all by myself. It makes me feel independent.

“The papers have been finalized,” Kassy comments on the way out to the car. “Chirnova is officially a commonwealth of the kingdom of Vladesvya.”

Well, Victor must be happy about that. He finally has a kingdom, just like Queen Elizabeth II (as he mentioned earlier). Now he’s King of Vladesvya, the Stalvich Islands and Chirnova. Although, it’s kind of nice for me, too. Now I don’t have to worry about being coroneted Queen just to marry Ben and revert back to being a Princess. That would have sucked.

I nod, “Good. Less to worry about.”

Kassy gets into the SUV behind me. I ride with only Gabe and Marc, as per usual. It’s quite a long drive back to Chirnova—to St. Mary’s cathedral. And I can tell that it’s going to be mostly silent. I'm left all alone in the back seat to my own thoughts.

@HRHPrincessAnna: On my way to the memorial service #NeverForget

As we draw closer more people cluster onto the sidewalks, waving as our car passes. I wave a few times, like Winnie tells me to do when there are screaming supporters outside the car. It makes them happy; makes them feel like they’re important. I know I would want to be waved at if I waited outside all day just to catch a glimpse of my favorite celebrity, so I understand why they like the whole waving thing.

The crowds get massive near the end of our route. When we pull up at the church there are cops everywhere, royal security agents and even military men. They keep the crowds from breaking ranks and running towards the cathedral staircase. Also, there’s two rows of army men waiting to salute me when I step out of the car. It’s ridiculous. Really, two men would have sufficed. Twenty is a bit much.

“Ready?” Marc asks as he gets out on his side.

I can’t help but sigh to myself as he opens my door. “No, not really.”

Stepping out as gracefully as possible, I give a small wave to the crowds on either side and begin the trek up the large granite staircase. A familiar face; the Archbishop of Seraphim is waiting for me at the stairs—and then I spot Victor behind him. My uncle, aunt and two cousins are also there, idling in the foyer.

“Good morning, Your Highness!” The elderly archbishop exclaims, extending his hand. His happiness makes me smile.

“Good morning,” I reply as he continues to ramble off about how beautiful the memorial mass is going to be. I can’t believe this is the same guy that’s going to marry Ben and I in a few months. I wonder if he’ll live that long… oh god, did I really just think that?

Then, I have to shake about a thousand more hands—including the chief Rabbi of the country, a few Muslim leaders, a couple of protestant priests and even the leader of the United Atheists Corp of Europe.

They all do the same thing; shake my hand, dip into a bow and tell me how wonderful it is to meet me.

It’s basically the most repetitive thing I have ever been through.

And then, finally we move into a formation. Our order goes by our ranking. Therefore, Victor is last; I’m second to last; my uncle and his family are before me and lower members of both royal families are out in front.

As the procession starts I try not to focus on the fact that Ben isn’t walking beside me. I put on my best princess smile and nod at the people in the pews we pass. I distract myself by focusing on how magnificent the cathedral is. It reminds me of St. Patrick’s in NYC. I saw that last year on a school field trip. The medieval arches and stained glass make it look eerily enchanting.

The mass drags on for what seems like hours. I occupy my thoughts in between sermons by thinking about what my friends might be doing right now. I think they’d be in lunch. They’re probably sitting at our usual table by the window, gossiping and wondering what I’m doing as well. They don’t have to sit properly like I am right now, or act like they’re paying attention to some old speak. They don’t have to put on fake smiles even though they’re probably having a bad day. Sometimes I wish they’d see how much I want to be one of them again.

I’m heading home tomorrow morning but a part of me… doesn’t want to go back. It’s weird; like these two sides of me are battling it out in my head. It’s a strange sort of inner-conflict. The princess part of me wants to stay and be there for the people; while the regular girl part of me just wants to see my friends and be able to do homework without having to email it back to my teachers. The princess part wants to stay with Ben and get to know my newfound family members; while the normal girl part of me just wants to see the family that raised me since I was an infant.

Once mass is over we process out. We chat with dignitaries, regular people, religious leaders and even a few military men in the giant foyer. My uncle wastes no time taking over for Victor, in terms of leading me around. He introduces me to everyone and tells me who is who. I can tell he really cares about me, and wants to make sure I do everything right. He also seems ridiculously happy.

“Oh, and here are some members of the Vasilovich family; the Lord and Lady Vasilovich and their daughter, The Honorable Alissa Vasilovich.”

He motions towards the three people currently bowing and curtseying before me—and the man reaching for my hand.

“Wonderful to finally meet you, Your Highness. Unfortunately we did not receive an invitation to the New Year’s Eve ball… or the church service in your honor. But no matter; we’re here now!”

His comment throws me off a bit. Immediately all three of them come off as complete snobs. As we make small talk I start to notice the sneers that girl is sending my way.

She has to be one of Ben’s exes. I’ve already met one; she must be just another. They all look at me the same way; like I’m not good enough and like I don’t belong here.

Oh, I’ll show them who doesn’t belong here.

They don’t.

“I’m sure you must be feeling very stressed right now, with Ben in the hospital and all,” she says in the middle of our discussion about how good he’s doing and all that small talk.

She called him Ben, and not ‘the Prince’—not even Benjamin. Just Ben. Yeah, she has to be an ex.

I shrug, “It’s all part of the job—the stress, that is. Of course, having each other to lean on lessens the anxiety.” It comes out of my mouth just as sickly sweet as I imagined it would.

And so ensues the smiling contest. Bring it on, bitch. If I can deal with bitchy competitors on the dance stage then I can deal with a few aristo-brats (the nickname is courtesy of Val, who absolutely abhors aristocratic girls in the posh scene here in Europe).

She smiles brightly, “Oh, well isn’t that wonderful.”

I nod and, feeling extremely tired and annoyed, I reply, “Yes. Yes it is.”

Her parents don’t seem phased by her attitude. They keep chatting with my uncle like nothing is wrong. So, I take that convenient time to slip away from that group and head straight towards Victor.

“Ready to get out of here?” He mumbles before having to shake another hand.

I mutter, “I have been for two hours now.”

After a few more painful minutes of chatting I hear him say—very loudly I might add, “Well, I am truly sorry everyone but we must be going! My son must be getting very annoyed we aren’t back yet! I will see you all very soon!”

He’s so good at that.

And once again we head out into the blinding spring sunlight; back out to greet the screaming crowds with waving and smiles. I pay close attention to the steps as well. In these heels and on these stairs… falling is never out of the question—even for a dancer like me.

It’s a sea of not only green and white, but blue, green and white too. The hues match the green and blue ribbon pinned to my chest—the memorial ribbon that a committee came up with. Everyone is wearing one. It’s kind of awesome.

I’m alone for the ride back to the hospital, too. But, at least Victor’s caravan isn’t far ahead of us this time.

Fast-forward through a long car ride and suddenly I’m walking down the hallway to Ben’s room again. Except, I hear… laughter… and it doesn’t sound like the army guys I heard before I left the other day. It’s different…

“There she is!” The lovely—if high-pitched—voice of Valencia catches my ears.

Low and behold, they’re currently standing in Ben’s room.

Ben grins like a Cheshire cat as he says, “I hope you don’t mind—I did a little recruiting to help you out with the whole prom thing.” The word ‘prom’ comes out as foreign to his mouth.

I can’t help myself; I burst out into giggles as they rush over and tell me they brought three racks of dresses to the meeting room we’ve taken over two doors down.

It’s like a magical wonderland of sequins, glitter and shiny things. Basically, it takes all the strength in me not to fall to the ground unconscious.

“Where the hell did you get all this?” I ask, my jaw nearly hitting the floor.

Garret bursts out laughing before answering, “Sweetie, I don’t think you understand your place in the world as of right now. You’re the most photographed woman since Grace Kelly, since Jackie-O, since friggin’ Kate Middleton! If you asked Donatella Versache for a free outfit right now she’d have it shipped to you over-night. Do you even understand how many designers are begging to drape their clothes over your cute little body?”

My eyebrows raise in response to his rant. He finishes off by saying, “By the way these are all free.”

“What?” I blurt out. I don’t like free things. They make me feel cheap. “No, no I’ll pay for the dress I choose.”

Bryant snorts, waving a hand flamboyantly as he explains, “Your Highness, these aren’t samples. These are officially yours. This is your evening wardrobe for you to keep for as long as you choose.”

My expression of horror as I think about how much these all cost makes Val laugh heartily.

“See, Your Highness this is why everyone loves you. You’re so… simple; you know, anti-extravagant…. But really, just treat yourself for once… go on,” she nudges me forward with a gentle tap on the elbow.

And so I begin my journey for the right dress. Rack after rack I try on, and eventually it comes down to two very classic and simple ones. In the end the strapless, nude one with pretty floral print wins out, because it's a Sherri Hill; American designer for an American Prom. It only seems diplomatic of me... plus, that mermaid silohuette makes me look hot. Also, it's something that I won't be able to wear to official functions or even red carpets (I'm expected to be modest and classy blah, blah, blah). So, needless to say it's kind of my last hurrah as a high school girl with fashion freedom.

“Want to give Ben a little sneak peak? He might not make it over there to see you, you know,” Bryant suggests just as Val is tugging at the zipper in the back of the dress. She zips it back up before I can respond with my own answer.

“Come on,” she giggles girlishly, leading me out into the hallway. I have to pick up the skirt to keep from tripping—typical short girl problems. They still haven’t gotten my height correct in my measurements.

Two seconds later we’re in Ben’s room—and he and Victor are both staring at me. Ben looks stunned, while Victor just smiles.

“Beautiful, as always,” Victor comments with a nod.

Ben chuckles, “You can say that again. I love it, Ann. It looks perfect on you.”

Val giggles uncontrollably while I stand there, blushing. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this dressing up crap—or having Ben stare at me like that. That look he gives me still makes my cheeks red and makes my heart pound a little faster.

“Now we just have to find you a proper date,” he jokes, “one