Belle’s Quest (Fairytale Bureau #3)

Chapter 1

1

My first time meeting a prince didn’t go so well. I’d been sent to the airport to escort the royal flying in from Corsica, an independent island off the coast of France. I, and a team of Grimm Knights—AKA super agents for the Fairytale Bureau who brought the swords and guns to the fight against curses—waited in the baggage claim area since even our badges couldn’t get us past the security checkpoint. Blame the recent fiasco caused by a witch who was peeved an airplane cut off her broom’s flight path. She went on a rampage in the airport terminal, turning people into toads.

Since then, security had tightened, hence why we waited for the prince, much to the Knights’ annoyance since they took their new mission of protection seriously. I didn’t really worry because I knew the prince was arriving with his own set of bodyguards. As for His Royal Highness, I didn’t know much about him other than his name, not having had time to peruse the file sent to me by my boss, Hilda. The blame for my lack of preparation rested squarely on the three little pigs who’d run me ragged the night before. I’d been tracking them to try to offer protection from the big, bad wolf determined to eat them. Given how they kept slipping away, I had to wonder if perhaps they might be better off taking care of themselves.

The night before my trek to the airport I’d been hot on their curly tails when they entered the downtown Night Market. I lost track of them in the crush of bodies gathered in front of a temporary stage where some woman in a golden cage sang for a rapt audience.

You’d think three pigs would be easy to spot with their pink skin and tubby bodies. Wrong. The slippery jerks went scooting between people’s legs, and let’s just say, when I tried to follow, there was much objection. Still, I tried to find them, and when they eluded me once again, I took my disappointment out on some pulled pork.

Savage? Yup. I was okay with it. My patience only went so far, and in my defense, the pork melted in my mouth and made my tastebuds sing.

Anyhow, after that failure, rather than lose more sleep reading a boring file, I slept in as late as I dared before heading to the airport to greet His Majesty. While the Knights watched the perimeter around the baggage claim area, I yawned. Apparently, the prince, despite having access to a private jet, chose to fly commercial. Lovely. One of those out-of-touch entitled pricks who liked to think he was a man of the people.

According to the arrivals board, the plane had landed without mishap and people were clearing customs. As passengers began to exit the glass doors, stiff-legged and weary-looking from the long flight, I kept an eye out for a dude with an armed escort.

Ping.

My phone chirped, and I glanced to see a message from Hilda.

Prince’s bodyguards being detained by security for bringing weapons through customs. I’m on the phone yelling at them right now.

I’ll bet she was. Hilda didn’t have patience for incompetence and someone too big for their britches deciding to cause a diplomatic incident would be enough to push her over the edge.

As the people emerging tapered and the luggage came down to just a few pieces, which were expensive looking and emblazoned with the Corsican royal emblem, a scruffy dude appeared and sauntered over to the conveyer.

I frowned but didn’t start moving until the guy reached down to grab one of the royal suitcases. Holy brazen, stealing right in front of me.

I didn’t stop to think or even warn. I went into action mode, sprinting the few yards separating us and tackling the guy as he gripped the handle of the luggage.

Thump . We hit the floor hard. Well, he did. I landed on top, snarling, “I don’t think so.”

The pretty man with shaggy blond hair and brilliant eyes blinked at me. “Um, hello.”

“Don’t hello me, thief,” I snarled.

His lips curved. “I assure you, I wasn’t stealing.”

“I highly doubt that suitcase belongs to you,” my riposte as a Knight finally arrived to render me aid.

Hannah, a tall svelte woman with her hair drawn back in a fat braid, hissed, “Belle, what the fuck are you doing tackling the prince?”

The prince?

My turn to blink. “This is Prince Killian?” Excuse my incredulity. The guy I had pinned to the floor wore a very worn pair of jeans with holes and a T-shirt washed so many times the image on the front had faded.

He had the nerve to grin. “That would be me. And you are? ”

“Feeling pretty dumb,” I grumbled before adding. “I’m Agent Boucher.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Agent Boucher.”

“I doubt that,” I muttered as I rose from the prince, who kept an amused expression.

Hannah hauled the man to his feet and apologized, of sorts. “Excuse my colleague, Your Highness. She obviously didn’t have enough coffee this morning.”

“No harm done,” the prince magnanimously stated.

“Why are you walking around without your security detail?” I couldn’t help a suspicious note. The prince supposedly needed protection, having left Corsica with two bodyguards and been assigned Knights while he visited, and yet here he was, wandering around all la-de-da.

The prince jerked a thumb at the glass doors. “They’re still working on reclaiming the weapons the customs people confiscated.”

“And you didn’t wait for them?”

He shrugged. “I was hungry.”

My lips pursed. “They’re for your protection.”

“So my mother claims.” He grimaced. “I find them rather intrusive, especially since no one wants to kill me.”

“You’re an unmarried prince. You’re always in danger.” In this world, post-Grimm Effect, eligible royals were few. The fairytale curses being reenacted ensured they either got married, were transformed into a frog, or worse.

“I would give away my rank if I could. Alas, I am my mother’s only heir, and so I must suffer the hordes of women who want to become my wife.”

“How horrifying,” I drawled.

“It is,” he agreed. “Do you know how hard it is to weed those with genuine interest from those magically convinced they love me?”

“Poor prince,” I taunted. It appeared I couldn’t stop myself from being sassy. What could I say? Something about him set me off. It might have been his good looks, his cool, slightly amused composure, or the fact I’d fucked up by laying hands on the person I was supposed to watch out for. Hilda would be pissed, meaning I’d most likely be assigned something worse than chasing pigs.

“Your Highness, we have a vehicle waiting to take you to your hotel,” Hannah stated. “And I was told to inform you that the preparations for the ball are well in hand.”

“Ball?” I snickered. “Going to find yourself a Cinderella?” My mouth ran faster than my brain.

The remark pursed his lips. “I should hope not. I have no interest in marrying someone who thinks losing a shoe makes her the perfect wife. The ball was my mother’s idea, seeing as how I’ll be celebrating my fortieth birthday while conducting business.”

Forty and single? Impressive. Most princes barely made it out of their teens before they were locked down.

“Here come your guards,” Hannah announced as two scowling and burly fellows exited, with the bearded one barking. “Your Highness. You were told to wait with us.”

“I’m fine.” The prince waved a hand. “My backup security detail has already tackled the job.”

Was that a dig?

“Shall we go?” Hannah led the way to the vehicles parked outside, but I didn’t ride with the prince. I had my own car here, and as I followed, my phone rang.

Uh-oh, Hilda.

I answered with a cheery, “Hey, boss.”

“Don’t you hey me. Did you seriously rough up the prince?”

“Hardly roughed up.”

“You had him pinned to the floor,” her dry reply.

“In my defense, he looked like a vagrant.”

“How could you not recognize him? His picture was in the file,” she screeched.

“I didn’t have time to read it over.”

The growling went on for a few seconds before Hilda snapped, “I didn’t need this today. I’m already short-staffed as it is, and now, I need to assign someone else to the prince.”

“Why? Did he complain?” Pussy, couldn’t handle a strong woman and a few bruises.

“No, he didn’t, but for the sake of diplomatic relations, I think it’s best someone else act as liaison.”

“If you insist.” I didn’t really care. Babysitting a grown-ass man sounded boring. “What do you want me doing instead?”

“You can find those darned pigs,” she commanded before hanging up.

Oh, I’d find them all right, and if they caused any trouble, they’d be bacon.