Ledi and Portia stuck their heads into the doorway, one above the other, like curious kittens. “What happened, Lineo?” Ledi asked.

“I found Prince Johan on top of Ms. Jerami, but it appears he fainted. Similar to His Highness fainting on top of you in the royal dungeon, I suppose,” Lineo said without even a trace of a smile.

“No, he really did,” Nya insisted as Lineo led Johan away.

Johan looked back over his shoulder at her as he was led out. “Thanks for catching me, Sugar Bubble.”

He had the audacity to wink, as if this didn’t look bad enough.

Nya crossed her arms over her chest at Ledi and Portia’s questioning gazes.

“Is it so hard to believe he just fell on top of me?” she asked.

“Well, no,” Ledi said. “But when you add in your admission that you shared a bed on the plane, it is kind of suspicious. If you’re only examining the evidence without context.”

“Well, please do add the context, then,” Nya said sharply.

“The context that Johan is known for his irresistible attractiveness?” Ledi asked.

Nya shot her a dirty look. “No man is irresistible, especially one who spends his time behaving as he does.”

“He called you Sugar Bubble,” Portia said. “What does that even mean?”

“Google it,” Nya bit out.

A knowing smirk lifted one corner of Portia’s mouth and she glanced at Ledi.

“He. Fainted,” Nya said. “And now I’m covered in whatever fungus lives on this floor.”

“Okay, okay,” Ledi said. She shot Portia a warning look. “Let’s go get you defungified with a body scrub. If you want us to come along, that is.”

“Of course, I do,” Nya said, then sighed. “I’m sorry I ran away earlier. I don’t want to talk about my father. I’m having a lot of feels right now and I don’t know what to do with all of them yet.”

“I would tell you to talk through them. Ledi would tell you to ignore them,” Portia said, picking something from Nya’s braids. “You can decide what feels right for you, and whether or not you want our help with that. We’re here for you, whatever you decide.”

Nya sighed, glad she had good friends; she knew what life was like without them and she never wanted to go back to that. They were just trying to help. And she needed their help, even if she didn’t know exactly how yet.

“Thank you,” she said. “I do have to check my phone first.”

Fungus could wait. She had a two-bit prince trying to woo her. She would think of the 3-D prince she’d had on top of her later.

Chapter 4

Royal Wedding Inspiration?

While most reporters are being denied entry into Thesolo for the royal wedding of Prince Thabiso and soon-to-be Princess Naledi, a source in the kingdom has confirmed that both Prince Jo-Jo and the Duke of Edinburgh are in attendance. Good news comes in threes, so can we expect to hear wedding bells ring for His Grace and his enterprising partner, Portia Hobbs (best friend to the bride)? We might ask the same about Jo-Jo to make three, but we pity the woman who tries to tame him!

—The Looking Glass Daily, Royal Beat

Hi Lukas, it’s your brother, Johan, remember me? I think maybe you’ve forgotten since all my calls go to voice mail, and you aren’t responding to DMs, PMs, or texts. Call me back.”

Johan ended the call and then reluctantly scrolled down to F to find his stepfather’s listing: Forshett Laffel. “Fork Spoon” had started as a joke and settled into a compromise. The king had asked to be called papp, but Johan found that difficult when the very laws of the land made it painstakingly clear that he was not and would never be Linus’s real son. Forshett Laffel, it was, then.

The phone rang and Johan regarded his nails. Though his father couldn’t see his display of nonchalance, it was a habit he’d fallen into when he was nervous or uncomfortable. If you stood around looking like you thought yourself better than everyone, it had a twofold benefit: 1) people left you alone because 2) they assumed you must think that for a reason.

“Hallo, Jo-Jo!” The king sounded surprised. “Have you gotten yourself into trouble again?”

Johan supposed it was strange for him to make a phone call at some odd hour in Liechtienbourg for no reason. But he didn’t only call to warn of his misadventures before they hit the papers, did he?

“Hallo, Forshett. I’m trouble-free for now, alas,” he sighed into the phone. “Give me a few hours, though.”

Linus chuckled.

“I’m calling about . . .” Johan found he couldn’t bring himself to admit that Lukas was ignoring him. “. . . the referendum. How’s it looking?”

“Hmm, not good, meng fis, not good.” The king sighed. “It seems that more people think the monarchy is a relic of the past and that we are good-for-nothing wastrels sucking at the public teat than I’d imagined.”

Johan couldn’t exactly argue with that. He’d gone from a boy with country roots to living in the palace. Being in forced proximity to the rich and royal had taught him any number of things, primarily that lots of them were wastrels. His Prince Jo-Jo act had, in part, started as a sarcastic lampooning of the behavior so many of the rich people around him indulged in. He’d waited for someone to notice and call this out, but instead it had made people who’d avoided him suddenly seek his company and tabloid journalists fight over scraps to report on him.