The Rock Star's Prince

by Merry Farmer

  “What kind of adjustments?” Emma asked.

  “Her Majesty deemed that the stage was too dangerous for the children’s choir, for example. They’ll be performing at a studio nearby, and the feed will cut to them when it’s time.”

  Emma’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Good. I hate to think of kids being around all this.”

  “Some of the other, local acts are performing from studios too,” Sven went on. “And Fuchsia and the royal announcement have been moved to the beginning of the show.”

  The bottom dropped out of Emma’s stomach. “Fuchsia is going on first?”

  A member of Sven’s crew squeezed through a small space in the debris, motioning for Emma and Tracy to follow him.

  “She is,” Sven called back. “Make sure to tell her when you see her. We’ll need her in place in less than an hour.”

  “Less than an hour?” Panic blossomed in Emma’s gut.

  “That’s the other thing. Because of the technicalities of coordinating with the studios, we’ve had to move the arena portion of the show up to six o’clock. But don’t worry, ticketholders have been notified. They’re already arriving.”

  Emma didn’t have a chance to ask for more information. Sven was called away, and the assistant sent to fetch them looked more than ready to get them where they needed to be so that he could do something else.

  Emma and Tracy followed the man through piles of ripped canvas, broken boards, and even a few twisted metal pipes. The damage to the set was extensive. Emma winced as she noticed pieces of Fuchsia’s traveling set among the wreckage along with what looked like a lot of expensive material that must have belonged to the arena. She didn’t want to think about the monetary loss, let alone what it would mean to the people who had to replace it all. Hoss would probably have a conniption fit.

  No sooner did she have that thought—as the assistant finished leading them through the maze and into the cleared, backstage area—than Hoss spotted her and stormed across the stage to her.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he bellowed.

  “Trying to get here,” Emma snapped back. She was far too alarmed by everything around her to keep her cool with Hoss.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Hoss went on. The fact that he didn’t want to engage in an argument was the most worrying thing Emma had seen yet. “Get into costume and get ready to go on. They’re starting at six, which means you have less than an hour to get ready.”

  “Is the band ready?” Emma asked, marching through the backstage area with Hoss by her side and Tracy half a step behind.

  “They’re trying to figure out how to plug in their instruments.”

  “Aren’t there plugs on the stage?”

  Emma stopped to ask her question, and as soon as she did, a metal beam as thick as her arm dropped from the fly space five feet in front of her. If she’d kept walking, there was a good chance it would have hit her.

  Silence fell as fast as the beam. Every one of the frantic backstage crew stopped to stare at what had almost happened. Above them, someone swore in Aegirian. Sven stormed across the backstage space, shouting in Aegirian, madder than Emma had ever seen him. He raised a fist to shake at the darkness of the fly space above them.

  In the space of three seconds, it was all over and people launched into action again. A black-shirted assistant rushed out and carried the beam away. Hoss nudged Emma to keep walking, though his face was white.

  “Sorry about that,” Sven said, following them. “I’m going to have someone’s nuts for that.” He turned back to his workers. “It’s too dangerous for the royal family to be back here. Tell them they’ll have to make their announcement from somewhere else.”

  Emma’s adrenaline was pumping so hard by the time she made it to Fuchsia’s dressing room that she was shaking and her hands were numb. “We should call this whole thing off,” she said as Hoss and Tracy followed her into the room, where Beth was already working, although she was in tears. “Something isn’t right, and it’s gotten too dangerous to go on.”

  “You have to go on,” Hoss growled. “I’m not going to be defeated by a bunch of incompetent European nobodies.”

  “But if it’s too dangerous—”

  “You’ll go on or you’ll be in breach of contract,” Hoss bellowed. “You don’t want to be in breach of contract, do you hear me?”

  Emma sighed. “I hear you.”

  Hoss gave her one more fierce look before turning and storming out of the room. Emma could only hope he was out for someone else’s blood for a change. She shook her head, then looked to Beth. “Well? What’s the situation here.”

  Beth sniffled, throwing up her hands. “It’s all ruined. All of it. Thousands of dollars’ worth of make-up is destroyed, and tens of thousands in costumes have been ripped to shreds.”

  Deeper anxiety closed up Emma’s throat. “So what do we do? Fuchsia has to go on at six.”

  “And it’s five after five now,” Tracy said.

  Beth shook her head, tears making her eyes red. “I don’t know.”

  “We’ll have to think of something,” Emma said. They didn’t have any other choice.

  If there had been enough space, Arne would have paced up and down the royal box. On the floor below him, the arena’s seats were filling up fast. The noise of hundreds of Aegirians chattering in anticipation was like the roar of the sea on a stormy day. Word of the problems at the arena had leaked to the public, and the buzz of anticipation had more to do with excitement over what could possibly happen than what was on the program.

  “I don’t like the feel of this,” Marina said as Arne stood by her side, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “It’s like the whole concert is cursed somehow.”

  Arne made a sound. He didn’t want to agree with her, not when he’d worked so hard to make the concert a success. The problem was, she had a point. “Sven assures me switching the television feed between the arena and the studios is a good idea,” he said.

  Marina sniffed. “We should be doing the whole thing from studios, and with only Aegirian performers.” She sent a peevish look across Arne to where Dr. Hayes and Cassandra stood with the queen.

  Arne followed her gaze. As unsettled and painful as his feelings were, he wasn’t ready to fall in line with his aunt’s campaign of complaining yet. “Fuchsia isn’t so bad. I’m glad Cassandra wanted her to perform.”

  Marina balked at his statement. “Really, dear. I thought your taste was better than that.”

  The disdain in her voice was so harsh that Arne turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You interacted with Emma on the yacht. You liked her.”

  “Did I?” Marina crossed her arms and raised one shaped eyebrow. She sniffed again. “Either way, you made the right decision by casting her off.”

  “Casting her off?” Not only did he not like the arrogant sound of that, he hated to think that that’s what he’d done. Yes, he’d been stung by Emma’s confession, but hours had passed and he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her.

  “We shouldn’t be up here,” the queen sighed in frustration at the other side of the box. “We should be down there, on the stage. The announcement—”

  “You can’t go down there.” Marina practically pushed Arne over in her haste to rush to her sister’s side. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “She does have a point, my darling,” Dr. Hayes said, taking Viktoria’s hand. “You heard what Sven told us.”

  “It would be a national tragedy if anything happened to you,” Marina went on, giving Dr. Hayes a nasty side-eye. “Apparently, it’s a total mess down there.”

  “Which is why you’ll be doing the announcement from here,” Arne added.

  Marina sighed heavily and glanced over her shoulder at him. “I wish you’d reconsider announcing things at all. I don’t like the feeling of this concert.” She rubbed her arms as if she were chilled.

  “There’s no going back now,” Viktoria said, her back straight and her head held high. She
glanced to Dr. Hayes with an adoring smile. “It’s time the entire country knows how happy we are.”

  Marina pressed her mouth shut, as though swallowing what she wanted to say. “Surely, there’s another way you can do this.”

  The house lights in the arena flashed, indicating the show was about to begin.

  “It’s too late now,” Viktoria said, gesturing for everyone to take their seats.

  Marina shifted back to Arne’s side, sitting in the chair next to him. Not that Arne was going to be able to stay seated and still. His back itched and every nerve in his body felt as though it were on fire. He’d left things so badly with Emma. And then he’d been run off his feet all day to the point where he hadn’t been able to so much as text her to see how she was.

  Worst of all, a voice at the back of his head had spent all day whispering, “So what if she didn’t reveal who she was? She has that contract. She probably had other reasons, too. You’re letting your pride get in the way of something good.”

  He let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. The house lights dimmed all the way, and the audience hushed. All around the arena, pinpoints of red lights indicated television cameras rolling.

  “This is going to be a disaster,” Marina whispered at his side. “I can feel it.”

  “Nothing has happened yet,” Arne grumbled back.

  “Nothing is exactly what I’m hoping will happen.”

  The two of them sat in silence so tense Arne thought one or both of them would erupt into flames. Darkness filled the arena, but nothing happened. Marina shifted in her seat, bristling with nervous energy.

  “Something is wrong,” Arne mumbled, mostly to himself.

  “I spoke to her,” Marina burst. Arne turned his head to her, but could barely see her in the darkness. “I went to that woman’s hotel and had a word with her.”

  “You what?” Arne hissed.

  Still facing forward, her profile highlighted in the dim light of the arena, Marina went on. “I told her she’s not princess material, that you’d get bored and move on. I told her the best she could do was to leave tomorrow and never look back.”

  Fury bubbled up in Arne’s chest. With it came a fierce determination to defend Emma, no matter what it took. And through that determination, pinpricks of light and love poked through.

  “Why would you do that?” he asked through clenched teeth. “Why would you stick your nose into something that isn’t your business?”

  “Because I care about you.” She turned to him at last, resting her hand over his on the arm separating their chairs. “You’re my nephew, but you’ve always felt more like my son.”

  A wealth of conflicting emotions bubbled through Arne. He cared for his aunt. They’d always been close. But that didn’t give her the right to meddle. “I love her,” he said, surprisingly little emotion in his voice.

  “You just met her,” Marina hissed back.

  “It doesn’t matter. When you know, you know.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a rush of freedom swept through him. He loved Emma. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t honest with him right from the start. Her choice not to reveal the whole truth upfront was hers, and she had good reasons for it, whether he liked it or not. He was letting his pride get the better of him. Just because he was a prince didn’t mean he had to know everything about everyone all the time.

  “She isn’t good enough for you,” Marina went on. “You should be with someone regal, someone poised. My sister should be too.”

  “Shouldn’t we be with people we love?” Arne asked.

  But his attention was quickly flying elsewhere. The stage was still dark. The audience was beginning to murmur again. The silence of anticipation had been replaced by a rumble of tension. Arne sat forward, glancing down into the seats on the arena floor, then to the stage. Something should have happened by now. The curtain should have gone up. What was the problem?

  He was moments away from getting up and marching down to the stage to find out for himself when, at last, the first strains of one of Fuchsia’s songs started. The crowd burst into applause and cheers, and the curtain rose. The projected backdrop instantly flooded the arena with light. Fuchsia’s band was silhouetted against the projection, playing their hearts out. They worked their way through the main theme of the song, then she walked onto the stage.

  A ripple of confusion and murmurs went through the audience. Arne sat straighter, leaning against the edge of the box. Emma walked onto the stage. Not Fuchsia. The costume she wore was glittery and pink, but there was no wig, no make-up, no disguise.

  “Hello, Aegiria!” she greeted the crowd. The voice that resounded through the arena was definitely Fuchsia’s. “Are you ready for some music?”

  The audience hesitated. They gave disjointed replies of, “Yes,” but as Arne glanced down at them, there was more wide-eyed confusion than rock star adoration.

  “Okay, let’s go!” Emma called back, keeping in character as much as possible. She might not have been dressed like a rock star, but she held herself with grace and presence as she launched into the cover of “You Are My Sunshine” that had made her famous.

  Arne sat back, watching her with wide eyes. The voice was Fuchsia’s, but everything else was pure Emma. The way she smiled at the audience, even though they weren’t sure what was going on. The way she sang her heart out, her presence so open and welcoming. The way she made him feel as though he was right down on the stage with her, as much a part of what she was singing as any member of the band. He was amazed that he hadn’t seen it before. Of course his mother had known the second he’d introduced them on the yacht. Costumes and make-up weren’t what made Emma amazing. She did that all on her own.

  “I think this is going to work,” Kristoff said from the row of seats behind Arne.

  He was right. Arne could feel it in his heart. It was going to work, all of it. The concert would be a success, the announcement would be made, and people would rejoice. And once it was all done, he could rush down to the stage, take Emma into his arms, apologize for being an ass, and she would forgive him. Not because he deserved it, but because that’s just the kind of woman she was. And even if she left tomorrow, he would find a way to stay with her. He would bring her back, or he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

  Emma sang the final strains of the song’s last verse. She was magical. Even without make-up and gems glittering on her face, when she looked out at the audience, she beamed. The crowd was with her all the way. Their shock at seeing her out of costume was gone, and they loved her.

  Arne leaned back in his seat, heart full, relaxed for the first time all day. Everything would be all right. Everything would—

  Before he could finish his thought, the entire arena went black.

  10

  Emma finished the last repeat of the chorus, holding the final note with a smile in her voice.

  And just as she was about to encourage the audience to sing a final refrain with her, the lights in the arena went out. All of them. The vast space was thrown into total darkness. An anxious ripple passed through the crowd. Emma’s heart shot to her throat.

  “Hello?” she asked into the mic.

  The sound traveled no farther than a few yards around her. The sound was out too. She peered out into the darkness. The flashing red lights of the TV cameras weren’t there. All power must have been cut to the entire arena.

  It wasn’t an accident. Somehow, deep in her heart, she knew. Cutting the power was a deliberate act of sabotage. But why? Was someone trying to undermine her? Or the royal family?

  “What’s going on, man?” her drummer asked behind her.

  Emma thought fast. If she could hear the drummer, then the people in the front row of the arena would be able to hear her. So far, the audience was hushed and expectant, as though the pitch black was part of her act. She had a responsibility to her fans to keep calm and reassure them, and she had a responsibility to the royal family, to Arne, to carry on until ever
ything sorted itself out.

  She walked to the front of the stage, mic lowered. “Do you guys have cell phones?” she asked.

  Several people already had their phones out and were texting or checking the internet, looking for answers, she was sure. Those closest to the stage looked up at her, nodding and telling her yes in English and Aegirian.

  “You wanna help me out?” she asked them, keeping her Fuchsia voice happy. When they replied positively, she went on with, “Could you shine your lights up here, on me?”

  Instantly, the group of people turned their phones on bright and held them toward her. As soon as they did, the people around them, just out of hearing, did the same, then those behind them. Slowly but surely, in a wave of light Emma wished could have been caught on camera, everyone in the arena turned their phones to bright and pointed them toward her.

  It still wasn’t much light. She was sure she looked like nothing more than a fuzzy shadow on the stage. Until a handful of Sven’s staff wound their way along the front row and side aisles. They all carried high-powered flashlights, which they flicked on and pointed at her.

  “Whoa!” she said in as loud a voice as she could manage. “That’s better.”

  A few people cheered, which started a ripple of cheers and applause. Without a working mic, Emma had to wait until the applause died down before speaking.

  “Can everybody hear me?” she asked, using every last projection skill she’d learned in voice and acting lessons to be heard.

  She got a mixed bag of results from the audience, but she couldn’t let that stop her.

  “Well, this is new,” she said with a laugh.

  Those who could hear her laughed with her, leaning forward to make sure they’d hear whatever she said next. Emma waited for them to hush before going on. Her gaze drifted up to the royal box. She’d seen Arne sitting beside Marina earlier, when the show had begun. The royal family had a dim light on them so that, even with the house lights turned off, the audience could see them. Now, all she could see were several glowing cell phones. But she was able to make out Arne’s profile illuminated by one of them. Her heart lurched. She didn’t care who else was there, the only person she wanted to reach was Arne.