Chapter Two

The next morning, I woke up, and my mother's words were repeating in my head.

How dangerous can the palace be? Mother didn't want to tell us stories about her days at the palace. But by the look on her face whenever a topic about the palace came up, you could tell she didn't have many happy days.

I jumped out of bed like a frog and yawned. It's a new day, and luckily, freedom is still mine. I hope they don't show up until I'm thirty, so I can use being a hag as an excuse to get out of this doomed engagement.

I'd tell them I have a body count of sixty-five; maybe they will reconsider marrying me to their future king. I mean, who wants a whore for a queen?

I stop in front of the mirror and study my reflection. Mercury-red hair falls past my shoulders and splashes into my face. Two piercings on my cone-shaped nose resemble Maleficent's horn, freckle dots scattered across my cheeks and a bird-shaped tattoo on my left arm. Yup, not queen material.

Satisfied, I grab my towel and head to the bathroom.

We run a bakery, in fact, the best bakery in town. Mom and Dad's love story began in the same bakery. At first, the royals thought that Mom might not survive and would come running back after a while. But they underestimated Dad's baking skills. They heard he was a baker but didn't know he was the best in town.

If the high royals didn't still have a grudge against Mama, we would be supplying the palace with bread now, but that doesn't matter. With the notoriety we have accumulated, hundreds of people from different places come to us every day, waiting in line at our bakery just to get a loaf of bread.

Meanwhile, Dad should be at the bakery getting everything ready while the rest of us prepare to resume our roles as waiters.

The work is certainly stressful, but the tempting smell of freshly baked bread makes it bearable.

I was behind the counter serving a customer when a commotion suddenly broke out outside. Although I didn't have a clear view, I could see people standing in a circle with their cell phones, and I wondered if a celebrity was passing by.

It wouldn't be new; we have regulars who are known for different reasons. I brushed it off and continued to rummage through the drawer.

Grabbing a few notes, "Here is your change," I presented it to the woman in front of me, but her attention was elsewhere; she turned pale as if she had seen a ghost.

I looked in the same direction and saw my worst nightmare coming towards me with a big smile. "Oh my God, Prince Reuben," the woman gushed like a three-year-old, leaving me with a violent shudder. You could say she was in her forties.

Embarrassing.

"I don't know if you saw, but there's a queue out there." I turned to my fiancé, who probably couldn't recognize me.

He laughed, "Why should I wait in line? You don't know who I am?" There was a hint of annoyance in his tone, just as I expected, but unfortunately for him, I was just getting started.

I scoffed, "I see you on my TV screen every week with a new Hollywood actress. Of course, I know who you are."

"For a woman standing behind a counter, that's a lot of boldness."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Want to know what else I have?"

"The right to kick you out of this bakery if you refuse to go outside and wait in line like the others are doing."

All traces of a smile disappeared from his face; perhaps no one had ever spoken to him this way before.

"No one cares a cent about your status," I continued my speech with pride. "In this bakery, all customers are equal. If you hate waiting in line so much, ask someone to do it for you. Don't think you can come and go here like you please; this is not your palace."

He was silent for a moment; then his eyes shifted to the sign on my chest that boldly read my name.

"Naomi." He called slowly, but it sounded more like a threat.

However, I refused to give in. This isn't even an attempt to break off the engagement. I hate how royals can do whatever they want. It's not the 1960s for crying out loud.

"It seems you have a grudge against the royal family. Tell me what we did to get into your bad books?"

"What didn't you do?" I respond immediately.

He doesn't seem fazed. "You're an interesting character."

"And you're slowing down my business. The door is there, young man." I show him the door, motioning for him to leave.

He turns on his heel but stops. "I want you to know that no one disrespects a prince and walks away."

"Is this a threat?" I raise my eyebrows, slightly amused.

"No, it's a known fact."

I know for sure that he can't hurt me, so it doesn't bother me. If it were that simple, Mom wouldn't have been spared after running off with a commoner. Do you think the Royals didn't try? Although deceased, my grandfather's influence lives on, and that alone has got us covered for life.

Just as he is about to leave, Salie comes out of the kitchen.

"Ruben Knight?" she calls, unsure he turns to her, and she gasps.

"It's you, the royal playboy."

Reuben glares at her. "You people have no respect for the royal family."

"That's because we are royalty too." She says. I rush to cover her mouth, but she slaps my hand away.

"Royalty, you say?" asks Reuben.

"That's not even what's shocking." She walks over to an empty table and sits cross-legged.

"Have you ever heard about a story of your grandfather promising some general that he would make one of his descendants a queen?"

Reuben's eyes widen with interest; of course, he knows about it.

"You won't believe what I'm about to say, but..." Salie trails off, and I prepare myself for the worst.

"Standing before you is none other than your future queen, Naomi Sailor."

I can see h

is eyes widen in horror; he looks at me briefly and then turns to Salie.

"You're kidding."