"Stop thief! Get back here!" I hear the local baker yell.
"Ari, catch!" A warm, fresh loaf of bread flies through the air and lands in my hands. Crud. I take off running, the sound of the angry baker fading from my ears. And sure enough, there's my partner, Davion Jesse James, grinning as he runs next to me.
"Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes?!" I scold him.
He grins. "Milady, surely you know such actions are not in my nature."
I grimace. "I thought I told you not to call me that. Especially when I'm dressed like this." I gesture to my town-boy outfit. It's basically Davion's old clothes, and consists of a loose shirt, vest, pants, and boots. I also have a hat I wear to cover my hair. Honestly, I'd rather dress like this and have adventures with Davion. Unfortunately, as the only heir to the throne, I'm not allowed to. That hasn't stopped me yet, but no one except Davion can know who I really am.
I'm sitting with Davion, sharing his steal, when I hear my name being called. And not the name I like.
"Aribelle! Aribelle Elizabeth Genevieve Thermopolis! Your father demands to see you this instant!" The voice belongs to Helda Burns, my father's right-hand man, er, woman. I know for a fact that she was hired just to get on my nerves. Okay, so I got the information from Davion. But she's still really big, and mean, and scary. Did I mention she's big? She can't even get into my room! Not that it stops her though. She just yells at me from the hallway.
"You'd better go Ari," Davion whispers. "I'll cover for you."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
He flashes his famous smile. "Don't mention it. Just remember me when you're Queen."
I roll my eyes in response, and dash into the crowd. I can hear Davion screaming something about a coming war in the distance. I smile to myself.
After slipping into my room, I hurriedly change into a gown, and grab a partially completed embroidery project. Just then, Helda bursts into my room and points her sausage-shaped finger at me.
"You! Come with me. Your father wants to see you, NOW!"
I allow her to drag me to the throne room. When I arrive, I see my father, King Henry George Nicholas Thermopolis VIII. He beckons me forward.
"Aribelle!" He booms. I cringe at his bellowing voice. "Aribelle! You are to be making an appearance public today!"
"Sir, the phrase is 'making a public appearance'," His advisor corrects him.
"Why?" I ask.
"To recruit soldiers for our army! We're going to war!"
"Why?"
"Because one of our neighboring countries has declared war on us!"
"No, I mean why do I have to go? Why can't you do it?"
"Because I'm the king and I say so!" In other words, he's too fat and lazy to get out of his chair.
"Fine. I'm going," I tell him.
"Oh, wear that red dress of yours! It makes you look grown-up and sexy!" Did he just say sexy?!
The last thing I hear as I leave the room is the advisor explaining to the king why using the word "sexy" isn't appropriate when talking to one's daughter.
