As if this day wasn’t already going terribly… I had to wake up at three in the morning to get ready for our seven o’ clock flight to Florida, plus I had to hear from Gabe that the trial of the men that attempted to kill Ben is scheduled to start tomorrow in Vladesvya.

“Anna, do you have all your bags?!” Mom shouts from the bottom of the stairs as I grab my back pack carry-on for the flight. My one piece of luggage and my dance bag with my uniform and shoes are already downstairs.

“Yeah!” I yell back, scurrying out of my bedroom. Marc and Gabe are in the process of taking my bags out to the car when I come flying down the stairs. Mom and dad look groggy and annoyed, but after what happened with me leaving for Vladesvya it’s safe to say they get anxious about me going away. They didn’t get the chance to say goodbye last time, so now they’ve made sure to wake up for me.

“Alright, now don’t forget to call as soon as you hit the tarmac in Florida, okay? Gabe will if you don’t,” mom threatens with a yawn and a chuckle.

Dad gives me a hug and says, “Be safe, have fun and don’t beat up any paparazzi while you’re down there… let Marc do it.”

Tired laughter fills the kitchen. We all know how mad I can get at the paps. 

“Alright, dad,” I roll my eyes as mom pulls me into a hug. 

Marc comes back in, quite noisily and calls out, “We’ve got a problem.”

Just as I turn around Gabe walks into the doorway behind him. He reinforces what Marc has just said by saying, “Police have been called to the airport to make sure you and your team get in safely. There are hoards of photographers and news crews.”

I can’t help but let out a noise of distress. Marc asks, “What did you expect? They haven’t seen you out and about in a long time—they missed the mall trip last week,” he chuckles.

Dad squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll be fine, just make sure you smile and stay close to Gabe and Marc.”

With a nod I give them each a kiss on the check and then head out. It takes us an hour to get to the bigger airport in nearby Auburn. We follow the school bus the entire way.

And when we pull up to the gate I can see why police had to be called in.

There are so many photographers that it’s impossible for the actual people being dropped off to walk on the sidewalk. I see at least five officers, trying to form a wall and push the paps back. 

Everyone on the bus gets off first. Marc and Gabe exit the car. As usual, Gabe grabs any bags I have while Marc assumes his position outside my door. As soon as he opens it he wraps an arm around me and slams it shut.

The roar of a hoard of reporters all shouting at the same time hits me. I see the girls a few yards away, struggling to get inside the building. The cops are doing the best they can, but I can see that it’s still going to be a tight squeeze.

Good thing I took those new anxiety meds this morning. 

“Smile and brace yourself,” Gabe warns before walking out in front of me and Marc.

The walk seems longer than it actually is, due to all the screaming and shouting; the camera flashes and microphones being shoved towards me. It feels like we’re getting nowhere, but eventually we burst out into the foyer of the large building. 

A police officer approaches us, with a stunned expression on his face. He says, “Well we sure as hell weren’t expecting that.”

“Neither were we,” Gabe answers first. “Thank you for your help. It made a big difference.”

“Yeah, at least the microphones weren’t close enough to hit me in the head this time,” I comment with a yawn. “Thank you… um…”

I squint out of tiredness and try to read his pin. Instead, he just clears his throat and says, “Sergeant Blake, uh, Your Highness.”

He makes a face as the words come out of his mouth. That’s typical. I’m just surprised he got the title correct.

“Sergeant Blake—thank you,” I sincerely do thank him.

I think he can hear the sincerity in my voice, because he replies, “You are very welcome—if I were you I’d want protection from those vultures, too. Have a safe flight, and good luck.”

His farewell is more curt than a lot of the others I’ve received. It’s nice. Now we can be on our way.

I have to check in separately because technically I don’t have an I.D. They do some special protocol checking me in, which takes forever. While the rest of the team is already getting through the security checkpoint I’m way in the back of the line.

As I start to take off my jacket Gabe says, “That won’t be necessary, Your Highness.”

I raise an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Marc answers, “one of the perks of being royalty. No taking off your shoes at checkpoints.”

“It’s a protocol,” Gabe adds as we near the front of the line. “Sort of a sign of respect.”

Once we’re at the front they give the security guy holding the magnet wand thing a piece of paper. He nods and waves us through. I don’t beep, because I was still forced to put my backpack in the conveyer belt—which is good because that would be extra embarrassing. 

The team is getting McDonalds and Dunkin Donuts at the nearby food station. I join them, amongst the stares that our fellow travelers are throwing us.

Of course, that’s probably because we’re all in matching jackets and sweatpants—not because of me… for once.

“You didn’t even have to take off your shoes?” Ash asks in disbelief.

I nod and shrug, “Yeah, I guess there’s some unspoken rule about royals and airport security protocol.”

She goes to say something else, but gets stopped short when the McDonald’s cashier yells, “Next!”

“Uh, yeah hi can I have two hash browns and an iced caramel latte?” Ash does her order first, but as usual the attention shifts to me.

The cashier, a college-aged looking girl with frizzy red hair and freckles, asks, “Hey aren’t you Princess Anna?”

Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I answer, “Yep. That’s me.”

“Cool,” she smiles. “I bought that coat you wore on the balcony in January. Totally worth the money.”

With a raise of my eyebrows, I glance over at Ashlyn. She’s barely containing her giggles.

“Uh, wow. That’s… great,” I smile out of humor and just barely stifle a giggle. 

As she hands Ash her change and food, she asks, “So what can I get you, uh…”

“Just two hash browns and a small mocha frappe,” I say quickly. 

While waiting for my order, I glance up at the people in the kitchen. Thankfully, most of them are too busy to look over at me… except for one guy. Tall, dark haired and with a mischievous grin on his face, he winks at me and flashes a smile.

Of all the things that people have done to me, this has got to be the weirdest. Obviously some guys don’t care if I have a fiancé.

“Hey if you don’t want him I’ll take him,” Sami whispers in my ear.

As I grab my things I lean back and ask, “Is everyone forgetting I’m engaged?” I wiggle my left hand in the air and walk off with Ash. 

The rest of the morning is uneventful—until, that is I have to get on the plane. Marc and Gabe have to enter the plane first, along with a handful of security guards and two police officers. I watch from my seat with the rest of the team as the men in uniforms go in and do their thing; come back out about ten minutes later.

Gabe nods to me and motions for me to get up. I suppose I have first choice of a seat.

“Get us a good spot near the middle!” Avery hisses, hitting my on the back as I struggle to get up.

When I get my paper checked the perky blonde behind the counter wiggles her eyebrows at Marc, causing me to gag. I honestly don’t know how he deals with all the females that throw themselves at him all the time. This happens on a regular basis.

As usual, he’s not phased. He has a job to do.

“Thank you,” I reply in a strained voice, fighting not to laugh.

And so we make our way down the tunnel and find that at the end… is a line of airline workers. All the stewards and stewardesses are smiling down at me as I step onto the plane. The two co-captains step forward and introduce themselves.

You’d think I’d be used to all this formality by now… but I’m not. When they act all awkward I’m still just as awkward.

“Wonderful to be, um, flying with you, Your Highness,” one of the stewardesses says with a giggle.

I nod and force another tired smile, “Yeah, it’s… great to be here. Thank you in advance for all your extra precautions, by the way.”

Of course, when I thank them they only end up thanking me ten times more.

After the mindless chatter ends I’m allowed to pick a seat. Flopping down into a window seat near the middle of the plane, I take out my phone and text the girls about my successful seat-choosing.

As the other people begin to board the plane I check up on Ben and tweet, post and Instagram a few things.

@HRHPrincessAnna: On the plane! :) #DisneyWorld here we come ♡✈ 

I’m greater with the sounds of laughter and Ash’s obnoxious voice as everyone takes their seats around me. I can already tell it’s going to be a long four hours. It’s a good thing I downloaded some extra songs to my library. I’m going to need it to get through this without killing someone.

Thankfully, everyone else has the same idea. The earbuds come out as soon as we’re 30,000 feet up. I drown out all other noises with the sound of Pop, country and Indie music and my favorite singers.

My peaceful naps and longing gazes out the window don’t last long however. It feels like such a short time before the plane is back on the ground in sunny, warm Florida. Palm trees line the fences instead of pines; blue sky fills the horizon instead of grey clouds. Finally, I’m in a place that doesn’t look so depressing.

Mark and Gabe usher me out of my seat last, after everyone else has gotten off. I have to stand there and shake hands with the hostesses and captains. Luckily, they have another flight arriving in a few minutes, so I have to walk out relatively quickly.

Walking out into the more modern setting of Orlando Airport is refreshing. It’s not at all musty or ancient looking like ours back home. The people are dressed up in their finest summer wear and tourists walk around with pamphlets in their hands. It’s great that everyone is so distracted because then they can’t notice me.

“I’m so excited,” Ash repeats for the thousandth time as we board the tram to get to the main building. I’m squished up against her, with Gabe right beside me and Marc behind me.

Avery is currently enjoying her time pushed up against Marc’s side. I can see her mischievous smile from the corner of my eye.

“So are we stopping at the hotel first?” I ask curiously. Marianne and Tina never mentioned what our plan was.

I hear Marianne shout from further down in the tram, “No! We’re going straight to Epcot!”

Great. Not even a break to relax. 

“I thought this trip was supposed to be relaxing, Your Highness,” Gabe whispers under his breath as he guides me out of the tram. I can tell he’s annoyed by all the rushing. I don’t blame him, but Marianne is just a high-energy kind of dance coach.

I shake my head with a laugh and reply, “These competition trips are never a vacation with her.”

The long ride to Epcot is filled with laughter and jokes. The strangers on the bus were too busy taking pictures to notice me. All is peaceful… until we near the entrance.

Hoards—and I mean more than what was at the airport—of paparazzi are crowded near the guard’s gate. But, I know these guys aren’t the ones I should be worried about. It’s the ones that dress up in disguise and walk around like normal people that I need to be worried about. I’m sure there’s a ton of them.

“Oh my god,” I can’t help but mumble as the bus pulls through the gates.

Ash, Ave, Mel and Sami move like lightening to shield me from the cameras. I don’t know how, but they must know I’m on this bus. Flashes start going off. I hear them shouting my name. It makes the rest of the passengers look around, until finally one man spots me, bent over in my seat with Ash and Ave leaning over my back.

“Hey, didn’t even see you there,” he says in Slavic. “Your Highness, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

He’s so cheery that I can’t help but smile. Though, I can’t really get a good look at him or his family.

I can only answer back in Slavic, “Wonderful to meet you too—if only it were under better circumstances.”

He laughs, along with the rest of his family. The rest of the people around us are probably just wondering what language we’re speaking. Chirnovian and Vladesvyan is like a weird mix between Scandinavian and Slavic.

Finally, Ash and Ave tell me it’s okay to sit up. When I do the bus lurches to a stop and Gabe almost goes flying into my lap.

“Sorry, Your Highness,” he clears his throat and brushes himself off like nothing happened. I once more roll my eyes at the way he has to address me in public.

Before we get off the crowded, noisy steel container they call a bus, we have to stop to talk to the Chirnovian man and his family. It’s only a short exchange and a few handshakes, but still—it irks Marianne to no end.

“We better get moving if we want to hit up all the countries!” She yells. “Remember, if you’re going to wander off stay in groups of no less than four and be at the kiosk in Scandinavia no later than nine!”

Everyone wastes no time breaking off into their own packs, and for once I decide to forget the worrying.

“Hey guys,” I say as we start walking towards the first ride; in the Epcot dome. “If you see a guy pointing a camera at us—don’t tell me.”

They seem to all know why I’m saying that. Their knowing smiles tell me so.

“As long we all agree to look like we’re having the time of our lives,” Mel says with a wide grin.

With nods of agreement, the smiling and laughing commences.

And for the very first time I don’t care that there’s a paparazzi in disguise walking right past us with a camera in his hands; his lens pointing straight at my face.

Though, I can’t help but laugh when Marc nearly tackles him.

———

If I hear this woman say “just one more time” one more time I’m going to throw myself onto the ground and refuse to get up. I’ve already walked half way across the hospital, gotten stuck talking to dozens of patients and been prevented from texting Anna. Now, she wants me to try bending down and getting back up again.

The pain explodes in my chest as I try to kneel down. I only make it halfway before surrendering to the pain and standing back up.

The middle-aged, very short and stern looking nurse says, “I know you can do better than that.”

With my anger rising and my body guard unable to do anything to stop her, I finally crack. Would it kill them to let me rest for more than an hour.

“Look, I don’t know what you people are trying to do to me, but I would really like to sit down for a while.” I keep my tone as even as possible. After all, Princes can’t afford to have bad tempers. My godfather Charles already got a bad reputation in the press for that. I cannot do the same.

She purses her lips before replying, “Alright. But, only for a few hours. You have an x-ray after dinner.”

Heaving a frustrated sigh, I slowly make my way back to my room alone. Well, I’m never exactly alone now—Keith never leaves my side and Olav is always hovering somewhere in the distance. I recently was granted a second guard like Anna due to the high security measures being taken. Even Anna’s new found family members each have two guards now. Our security boards are that worried… but hopefully in a few months everything will quiet down.

I carefully settle myself into bed, haphazardly trying to fix the stupid hospital gown as it rides up on me. I’ve only been in one of these twice before and each time I’ve hated it. They haven’t even granted me the right to wear pants yet—though I begged and pleaded enough to get a hold of underwear.

Keith hands me my phone from the night table and says, “Looks like Her Royal Highness has been trying to text you.”

Sure enough, I have five texts from her—two of which are pictures. One is of her in front of the Epcot ball. I recognize it from my trip to Disneyworld when I was twelve. 

She looks so happy that it makes me smile. The only thing not so great is that I couldn’t be there to see her perform. But, at least Marc promised he would FaceTime me during the competition. Anna asked him to a few days ago, and he was happy to oblige. So, at least I’ll feel like I’m there.

@HRHPrinceBenjamin: And I’m sitting here in a hospital bed while @HRHPrincessAnna is having fun at Disneyworld #notfair

“His Majesty the King is on his way for dinner,” Keith says, straightening in his chair. “He says he’s bringing your favorite meal.”

With a snort, I glance over at him. “Stuffed shrimp? They’re going to let him bring that stuff in?”

“With all due respect Your Highness, I think they will allow His Majesty to do whatever the hell he wants,” he says in a serious tone. I swear, I’ve never had a better body guard than him. No one else has been able to make me—inadvertedly—laugh like he can.

“I see you’re getting more comfortable with the swear words around us,” I comment while answering Anna’s texts.

“Of course. How could I not when you and your father drop curses like it’s your job?” 

These fucking paparazzi are pissing me off and I can’t even show my hatred for them.

And it seems Anna has inherited our potty mouths as well.

“Don’t forget Anna,” I comment, replying back.

He asks, “Is she as bad? I haven’t heard a single swear come out of her mouth.”

“Oh, believe me, she’s just as bad.”

When dad arrives with dinner he also brings along Piotr, Anna’s newfound uncle—a much kinder man than Dmitry. It’s remarkable that they come from the same family.

He turns out to be an almost exact replica of my dad. It’s uncanny. They like the same sports, the same food and wear the same brand of suits. I’m starting to think they’re related… well, technically our families are connected but that marriage is so far back that we no longer look like cousins… kind of like the Danes and the Swedes.

“So, do you think you’ll be up and ready for the charity soccer match next month?” Piotr asks me curiously, eyeing the yellow bruises on my arms.

With determination, I answer, “Of course. And, if I’m not then I’ll at least play the first few minutes.”

Dad has been overly worried as of late, so naturally he comments, “We shall see about that. As long as the doctor approves.”

With a roll of my eyes I counter, “You played in that polo match a month after fracturing your arm.”

“Yes, that was a fractured arm, not a punctured lung and bruised ribs.”

Piotr agrees with a nod, “Assassination attempts take more time to get over than you think.”

And so begins the arguing over whether I should withdraw from the football match now, or wait and see what happens.

By the time dad leaves I’m exhausted, and deny my therapist’s request to do exercises before bed. I’ve already got enough on my mind—which won’t help in terms of sleep. I haven’t gotten more than four hours of mediocre sleep each night since the shooting.

I find myself in Anna’s shoes. The nightmares are terrible and the visions of men pointing guns at me are terrifying. I just wish she were here for me like I