Airports are tricky, a fact Quinn is quickly learning.

Sure, she’s been in plenty of them over the course of her life, but actually navigating one completely on her own? Never.

Ideally, she could stop and ask for help. Unfortunately, logical thinking is something she never quite got the hang of. Besides, asking for help takes time, and that’s a luxury she just doesn’t have at the moment. Time is of the essence, that sort of thing.

She tugs her pageboy cap lower on her head and does her very best to keep up with the massive crowd surrounding her. They all seem to be moving twice as fast as she is and she can’t help the feeling of panic that’s setting in.

There’s at least a million different ways this could go wrong, but she pushes herself forward none the less. She breathes a sigh of relief when she reaches the specified gate, and an elderly woman takes her ticket with a smile.

In a matter of seconds, she’s seated on a plane, headed for Glasgow, Scotland.

~*~*~*~*~

Callum O’Leary is on a mission.

It isn’t an especially difficult one, but it’s a mission, none the less. Part of him isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to find, but he suspects he’ll know it once he sees it. For now, he’s perfectly content to wander the streets of Glasgow.

By his best guess, he’s visited nearly every bar on the West End, as well as several art galleries and even the Botanic Garden.

And still, nothing.

But, he’s not worried. His patience has paid off countless times before and there’s no doubt that it won’t fail him now.

He steps into a small, dimly lit pub and takes a seat. His eyes sweep over the other occupants, committing each face to memory. Some of them, he’s seen several times. Passed them on the street, spotted them in this very same pub during the previous three days. But one new face catches his attention immediately.

She’s an average girl. Nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary about her, from what he can tell. If it weren’t for her obvious desire to keep her distance from the other patrons, she probably wouldn’t stand out at all.

Her eyes are intently focused on the thick book laying open in front of her. She doesn’t look up when waitresses pass her table. Doesn’t flinch when a glass shatters on the floor. She’s in her own world and nothing is going to break her concentration.

Callum pulls his phone from his pocket, sends a quick text message and smiles to himself with a satisfied nod.

Mission accomplished.

~*~*~*~*~

“I really, really do not get the point of this trip.”

“How many fuckin times do I have to tell you?” Justin Timberlake heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes at his best friends ignorance. “I feel like I’m suffocating here, ok? Call me a whiney little bitch or whatever… but I gotta get out man. I’m supposed to be writing for the album, and I can’t do that with… everything.”

“What happened to all that ‘break ups fuel my creativity’ bullshit? It wasn’t working, she dumped you… not seeing the big deal, but whatever.”

“In case you forgot… she dumped me all of five minutes before I was going to propose. Kind of a big deal. She’s supposed to be coming to get her shit, and I don’t want to be here. So… you coming or not?”

“Oh I don’t know… I mean… a free trip to Scotland? Doesn’t sound too appealing.”

“Meet me at the airport in an hour jerk-off.” Justin slams the phone down on the receiver and rolls his eyes.

He knows taking off to a foreign country isn’t the healthiest way to cope with a break up, but from where he’s standing, it’s the best option he’s got. Besides, it sounds a hell of a lot more normal than moping around his house alone.

He’ll write, see the sights and if he’s lucky, spend 90 percent of his time in dive bars where nobody gives a shit who he is. It’s a foolproof plan for getting over the bitch who thought he wasn’t good enough.

He shoves the last of his essentials into a duffel bag before jogging down the stairs. He’s checked and re-checked the lights, the locks and the stove at least a dozen time, but one more round can’t hurt. He sets the alarm, takes a deep breath and heads for his car.

Here goes nothing.

~*~*~*~*~

So, I’m sure you’re ten thousand kinds of confused right now, aren’t you? I guess this would be a good time to shed some light on a few things. But don’t go thinking I’m gonna lay all the cards on the table just yet.

If I did, there wouldn’t be a story to tell, now would there?

The small country of Andosia is in a state of emergency, you could say.

Our Queen isn’t eligible to hold the throne, thanks to that pure blood law I mentioned before. Not to mention the fact that she’s more than likely a complete and utter mess, mourning the death of her husband. (By the way, as a proud citizen of Andosia, I can tell you… King Cian was an incredible ruler. I doubt anyone in the country would utter a bad word about the man, god rest his soul.)

Our Prince is a royal jackass, pun intended.

People have certain ideas of what being a royal entails. Elegance, intelligence, an air of superiority. Royals are supposed to be the classiest of the classy. They should be the most respectable individuals on the planet. Sadly, the Prince of Andosia is the exact opposite of what you’d expect a royal to be. And believe me when I say, it’s caused more shit in the palace than you’d ever imagine.

Our Princess on the other hand, could step in as Queen tomorrow and the country would be just fine. There’s just one small problem. The Princess has yet to finish her education. Which, until 30 years ago, wouldn’t have made the least bit of difference.

Remember when I said King Cian was an incredible ruler? Well, here’s a few reasons why.

Until Cian took over, Andosia seemed forever stuck in the dark ages. We were abiding by laws that had been set in the 1700’s for Christ sake. And we’re not talking your run of the mill, Constitution of the United States type laws either.

For example, Article 7 of the Andosian Decree states that no man and woman will inhabit the same residence unless unified by legal marriage, or blood relation.

In layman’s terms… if you ain’t married or related by blood, you ain’t living together. So, we’re talking completely ridiculous, totally old school shit.

Cian knew the original decree was bullshit. In 1990, Cian re-wrote the entire decree, and the country did nothing but benefit from it.

One of the new laws put in place by Cian is from New Article 23, section 6: No member of the Monroe family is eligible to hold the throne until graduation from Keiran Monroe Memorial Academy is complete. The Princess is a year shy of said graduation.

Oh, and did I mention she’s gone missing?