Page 74 of A Royal Mistake

The king bent over, clutching his stomach, and another shot hit him in the shoulder, bringing him to his knees. A team of bodyguards flooded the courtyard. Two men pushed the king to the ground while the rest advanced on Gabriel.

Quick as a flash, the lead guard produced a taser and returned fire.

Gabriel screamed and fell to the ground, convulsing violently.

Well, that’s one way to weed out the competition.

18

Pippa sat straight-backed,bracing for the tongue lashing that was undoubtedly coming. Even she wasn’t naïve enough to think the king getting shot in the gut with a paintball would go unpunished. Not after the fiasco in the garden.

So much for that victory dance.

Her father sat behind his desk, dabbing at the red paint on his suit with a handkerchief. As if that was going to fix everything.

He’d be better off dying the damn thing red and saving it for Christmas.

It was strange being in her father’s office, wearing stained, wet coveralls instead of her usual royally approved wardrobe, but her father had made it clear her immediate presence in his office was non-negotiable.

The walk back had been silent and wrought with tension, the only sound her soggy trainers squishing first on the marble floors and then on the plush carpet. On the bright side, at least her foray into the fountain had washed off some of the sweat, though her hair hung limply over her shoulders, no doubt dripping on the finely upholstered chair.

Best not to think about it.

Not when Her Majesty was likely on her—

Right on cue, the door to the office swung open. The queen glided in, her face a mask of indifference. “What’s all this about—”

The words died on her lips when she saw the state of the king’s suit. Shock and horror instantly replaced her usual cool disinterest. Pippa almost laughed, but stifled the sound by biting the inside of her cheek.

“What on earth happened to you?” the queen demanded, crossing the room with angry strides.

“Your daughter thought it would be fun to play paintball in the gardens with her suitors.” A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and he heaved a disgusted sigh, throwing the handkerchief down on the desk. “It seems my suit was collateral damage.”

Pippa flinched at his use ofyour daughter. Her parents always did that when she was in trouble, relegated her entire existence to the other. Like they weren’t equally responsible for her birth. Or, worse, were too ashamed to claim her.

Even now, at twenty-three, it made her feel like a child.

Silly. Naïve. Incapable.

A familiar ache took root in her chest and she stuffed it back down. The whole point of this exercise was to prove she wasn’t some useless crown jewel. She had value beyond making a favorable match, whether or not they wanted to acknowledge it.

It doesn’t matter. They’ll see soon enough.

The summer was almost over and once fall came—once she’d fulfilled her end of the bargain by engaging in this farce of a courtship—she’d have half of her trust. And Stanley International.

Just a few more weeks…

“After Prince Gabriel shot me, my guards tased him.”

The queen blanched. “Tell me I’m dreaming. This must be a bloody nightmare.”

“Afraid not.”

The queen whirled on Pippa. “What were you thinking?” She threw up a hand, silencing her before she could speak. “It doesn’t matter. This is a disaster. The prince of Spain. Tased. On our palace grounds. At the hands of our own guards. Honestly, Pippa, what am I supposed to say to his parents?”

“That he’s lucky only one taser hit him?” she offered.

The queen’s eye twitched, and she leveled her steely gaze at Pippa. “Do you realize how lucky we are the guards drew their tasers? The boy could’ve been shot for real!”