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The Royal Pain
MARYJANICE DAVIDSON
For Julie Kathryn Gottlieb, who whines when
I don’t dedicate a book to her.
Off my case, hose-face.
We are born with luck
Which is to say with gold in our mouth.
As new and smooth as a grape,
As pure as a pond in Alaska,
As good as the stem of a green bean
We are born and that ought to be enough.
—Anne Sexton, The Evil Seekers
Treason and murder ever kept together.
—William Shakespeare, Henry V
A Sheldon can do your income taxes. If you need a root canal, Sheldon’s your man. But humpin’ and pumpin’ is not Sheldon’s strong suit. It’s the name. “Do it to me, Sheldon. You’re an animal, Sheldon. Ride me, big…SHELdon.” Doesn’t work.
—Harry, When Harry Met Sally
Acknowledgments
Thanks again to my wonderful family, who may well recognize parts of themselves in some of these pages but too bad, I’ve already spent the advance.
Extra thanks to my dad, the inspiration for King Al, who once explained to me that he could never run for president because the newspapers wouldn’t print “fuck” and thus he would never be properly quoted. When I got over my startlement, I realized he was right. And once again, America was cheated of a great leader, all because the papers won’t print the word “fuck.”
Also, thanks to Giselle, Stacy, and Jessica, who listen to my endless complaints and give excellent advice (chief of which: “Stop yer bitching”).
Thanks also to my sister, Yvonne, who reminded me what a bail is for and was kind enough not to give me shit about blanking on the word.
Thanks are also due to the exalted Kate Duffy, who edits her authors as gently as a sighing kitten and promotes them as savagely as a ravenous white shark. She works too hard and her bosses should give her a raise at once.
Finally, thanks to the readers who have been asking me whatever happened to those pesky Baranovs. You got me wondering, so here we all are.
Author’s Note
As with The Royal Treatment, I’ve taken liberties and, as of this writing, Alaska still is not a country. However, it is possible to kill someone with a chair and nightmares do inevitably result.
The events of this book take place twenty-two months after the wedding of His Royal Highness Prince David to Lady Christina.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Prologue
The Sitka Palace
2:32 A.M.
“Nicky, get down!” Alexandria’s father roared, and her little brother dropped like a rock and rolled away. There was no mistaking the command in that yell; she nearly fell to the carpet herself.
There was a sound, some odd sound she should have recognized but did not, and suddenly her father was staring at the two small, feathered darts sticking out of his chest. He stared…
(What story tonight, Alex?)
…they all stared…
(No, hon, that one gives you nightmares.)
…it was all happening so fast…
(There’s nothing to be afraid of.)
…and then her father…
(We’re going to be all right now.)
…her father…
(There’s no such thing as monsters.)
…slowly folded to the floor.
She heard another sound—the flat, smacking sound of metal hitting flesh—but she was too busy looking around, looking around for…
There.
“Not s’ fast without y’r pea shooter, eh?” she heard someone, Kurt? David? slur.
“Y—you have to come with me, Prince Nicholas,” the monster said. He was reaching for her little brother, actually daring to reach for her brother after the gross assault upon her father. “Your place is with us.”
“Get the hell out of here, you traitorous piece of shit,” her older brother David ordered. Alexandria agreed wholeheartedly…to a point. “If you leave now, our security team might not blow your head off.”
Stay a while. Just a minute longer. I’ll give you something to remember the Baranovs by, you prick.
“Us, sir?” her little brother, Nicholas, asked. As always in response to stress, he was overly polite.
She slipped out of one of her shoes. There was more talking, but it was background noise, it was how the ocean sounded