Page 71 of A Royal Mistake

“You should worry less about my wellbeing,” she said, inching up next to him, “and more about getting your hands on the damn flag.”

“We need to get closer to the fountain so we can see what we’re up against.”

She nodded.

They hadn’t so much as glimpsed an opposing player yet during this game, which meant, more than likely, all were still in play. The question was, how many were advancing on the gazebo to capture their flag and how many were guarding the fountain, lying in wait to ambush them?

The other team had hung their flag at the fountain in the first two games, so it was a solid bet they’d done it again. There had been a lot of trash talk after the second game, and both teams were determined to win. She just hoped it wouldn’t come to blows, because what she needed was a hot shower and a massage, not a trip to the infirmary.

Her thighs burned as she and Henry scrambled forward, keeping low. She so wasn’t used to this kind of physical activity. Gabriel covered their six, ensuring they didn’t get ambushed from behind. She spared him a glance every few yards. Mostly to ensure there wasn’t a target on Henry’s back.

“Almost there,” Henry whispered as they approached the fountain. Their helmets muted the sound of the gurgling water, but she could hear it easily enough when she focused. She held her breath and listened, straining for any sound that might betray the location of the other team. Aside from the fountain, though, it was eerily quiet. No birdsong. No idle chatter from the defenders. Nothing but the spray and splash of water.

She poked Henry in the back. Somehow, he’d managed to get in front of her again. “Is it my imagination or is it too quiet?”

He nodded and turned to Gabriel, gesturing for the prince to join them.

Gabriel scrambled forward, his marker held to his chest. Like Pippa and Henry, he was damp with perspiration. There was a dark stain on the front of his coveralls and sweat trickled down his brow. Despite his obvious discomfort, he appeared focused. His brows were pulled low and his lips were pursed in concentration.

“It’s too quiet.” Gabriel his chin toward the fountain. “I don’t like it.”

“Agreed,” Henry said. “You two stay here. I’ll go up and take a look. See what we’re dealing with.”

Each second Henry was gone felt like an eternity. Sweat trickled down her neck, cutting a path between her shoulder blades. She was sticky, hot, and having a surprisingly good time.

Aside from feeling like a swamp monster.

The instant Gabriel turned away, she quickly lifted her shoulder and gave her armpit a quick sniff. It was a futile effort. With the facemask, the only thing she could smell was her hot breath, which was tinged with bacon from the morning’s breakfast.

Her belly rumbled at the thought of food.

Gabriel’s head whipped around, but it wasn’t her stomach that had grabbed his attention. It was the rustling of bushes to her right.

Adrenaline pumping, Pippa raised her marker and aimed.

* * *

Henry burstout of the bushes, tripping over an exposed root like an Arschloch. He went down hard on one knee, white-hot pain splintering his concentration. When he looked up, he was staring down the business end of a paintball marker pointed directly at his chest.

Fuck.

So much for stealth. His heart slammed against his ribcage, his fight-or-flight instinct kicking into overdrive. He raised his weapon—better to go down shooting—when he realized it was Pippa drawing on him.

“Don’t shoot!” he barked, turning his head so he wouldn’t see it coming if she pulled the trigger.

Just be glad she’s not aiming for your balls.

“What the hell, Henry!” Pippa lowered her marker and clasped a hand to her chest, rubbing in a small circular motion. “You scared the crap out of me. Seriously. I think I just had a mini-heart attack.”

“Sorry.”

Not as sorry as you’d be if she shot you in the chest.

“What were you thinking, jumping out of the bushes like that?” She relaxed her grip on her weapon and laid it across her knees.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He flashed her a sheepish grin even as heat spread across the back of his neck. What kind of prat stumbled over his own feet? “I tripped.”

“Will you two keep it down?” Gabriel curled his lip in a sneer. “Unless, of course, your plan is to alert the enemy to our position?”