I was stepping out from the kitchen at Fun & Food when my uncle’s voice cut through the clatter.

"Evelyn! Come quick!"

I raised an eyebrow. "What’s going on?" I called back, amusement creeping into my tone.

"Your aunt’s in a panic. You know she’s catering the royal family tonight, right? Some of her staff bailed last minute—she needs reinforcements. You’re on the roster, go!"

I blinked, trying to process the sudden urgency. "Wait, me?"

"Yeah, no time to explain. Grab your badge and get moving."

With barely a moment to hesitate, I slipped my phone into my pocket and darted across the street to her bustling catering headquarters.

My aunt was a whirlwind of nerves, pacing the kitchen like a general before battle. "Put this badge on," she directed, thrusting one at me. "Join the team, move fast. I trust you won’t let me down."

I glanced down at the badge, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. "How much different is this from waitressing?" I asked cautiously.

She stared at me as if I’d asked if the sky was green. "You’re waitressing, Evelyn," she said sharply. "The stakes are higher—this is the royal family."

I shrugged, clipping the badge on with a smirk. "Yes, sergeant," I teased, following her staff out the door and spotting a few familiar faces from Fun & Food.

"You sure you don’t want to stick to the counter at Cherie’s?" Max joked as I climbed into the van with him.

"And miss this royal circus? Hard pass," I shot back, settling in.

The ride was tense but manageable, the team bantering nervously about the Grimaldis. "She always loses her mind over these events," Max chuckled.

I plugged in my earphones to drown out the nerves, eyes fixed on the palace growing larger with every mile. The same palace from this morning, but tonight it glowed with a different kind of energy.

Inside, I helped lug trays and cases before slipping into the massive, gleaming kitchen—a sprawling space rivaling any fancy restaurant. The main hall where the party unfolded was a dazzling scene of glittering gowns, sparkling chandeliers, and polished marble floors.

"Wait staff, start with drinks! Wine, whiskey, champagne—whatever the guests desire," the head caterer barked.

I grinned, cutting him off gently. "Wine's a safe bet to start," I said, grabbing a tray.

Balancing ten glasses—six white, four red—I wove through the tables, offering smiles and soft greetings. "Sir, madam, wine?"

Glasses emptied quickly, and I refilled rounds, collecting empties with practiced ease. On my fifth trip, I almost collided with a man, barely steadying the wobbling glass in my hand.

"Oh! So sorry, sir," I gasped, steadying the tray and regaining my balance.

He barely looked up, lost in conversation. "No worries," he murmured absently.

"Wine, sir?" I prompted.

He scanned the tray. "Scotch, please. On the rocks."

"Right away. Will you be seated or nearby?"

"Just around," he replied.

I nodded, catching Max’s eye as he disappeared into the kitchen. "Scotch for this gentleman," I said quietly before resuming my rounds.

Time slipped by, the party flowing like a river of clinking glasses and murmured conversations until dinner was served, anchoring guests to their seats.

With dishes cleared, desserts arrived—chocolates and custards that begged to be savored. I loaded my tray while Max and I hustled behind the scenes, the kitchen door slamming shut behind us.

"Did you know a single chocolate bar contains, on average, eight insect parts?" I said casually, placing the last chocolate on the tray.

Max laughed, incredulous. "What? Seriously?"

"Yeah, it’s true. I read it somewhere. Not the whole insect, just the parts, but still—kind of gross, right?"

"Eight? That’s disgusting."

I opened my mouth to say where I’d read it but stopped mid-thought, eyes flicking to the man approaching.

"Your Majesty," Max greeted quickly, bowing his head.

My heart stuttered as Prince Archer stood before me, the same man I’d awkwardly bumped into twice in less than a day.

"Eight insect parts in chocolate? That’s quite a statistic," he said, amusement dancing in his striking blue eyes.

Flushing, I looked down at the tray, cheeks burning. "I–uh, yes," I muttered.

"I believe you saw that at The Wine Brew," he said, a knowing smirk curling at his lips. "They have a sign to encourage wine tasting over chocolate."

He was right. I remembered now.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," I said quickly, trying to sound respectful but not too stiff.

"What’s your name?" he asked, curiosity softening his tone.

Everyone in the kitchen seemed to hold their breath.

"Just Evelyn," I said, turning away and moving to distribute desserts, chiding myself silently. Why do I always freeze up around him?

Luckily, he was gone before I could embarrass myself further.

Leaning back against the cool kitchen wall, exhaustion hit me in waves. The night was dragging on, the clock nearing midnight.

"You’ve officially ruined chocolate for me," Max said, plopping down beside me.

"The Wine Brew wrecked it first," I replied with a tired shrug, eyes closed.

"Never thought royal parties lasted past two a.m.," Max sighed.

The feast was over, but we weren’t allowed to leave until the festivities ended—security was tight, and we were part of the staff. It felt absurd.

I stood and peeked through the kitchen door into the hall. Guests swirled to the booming music, couples twirling beneath sparkling chandeliers.

Couldn’t they tone down the charm just a bit? Makes it so much easier to hate them.

I admitted it reluctantly—I hated the pomp of royalty, their polished smiles and effortless grace. And yet, watching them dance, a small part of me envied their world.

"Everyone’s out there dancing," I groaned, sinking back into my seat. "And we’re stuck here, wishing for sleep."

Max stood, extending a hand. Sleepy, I took it as he pulled me up.

He grabbed a paper plate and wedged it in the door to keep it ajar, letting the music bleed in louder.

"What’s this about?" I laughed.

"Dance break," he shrugged, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me close.

We swayed to the rhythm, smiles breaking through the weariness. Slowly, others in the kitchen joined—dancing solo, in pairs, caught up in the music’s spell.

I broke away from Max, twirling on my own until the back door creaked open.

Lucas shuffled in, rubbing his eyes, looking as exhausted as I felt.

He sighed, about to turn away, but then spotted me. With a shy smile, he crossed the room.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," I replied, dancing a circle around him.

He caught my hand, pulling me close, his hands resting at my waist while I looped mine around his neck.

"What are you doing here?" he murmured as we skipped in gentle circles.

"My aunt needed extra hands. So, here I am," I said, smiling as he spun me once more before drawing me near again.

"Three nights in a row. Lucky me," he grinned, stealing a quick kiss.

"Lucky you," I chuckled, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

The music softened, the pace slowing as the night crept toward its end.

"The party’s wrapping up soon. I should head out," he whispered.

"Okay," I breathed.

He pressed a tender kiss to my lips before slipping away into the shadows.

I smiled to myself, settling back into my seat with a contented sigh.

A butler soon entered, announcing that we could begin breaking down and preparing to leave.

I gathered my things, fatigue weighing heavily on my limbs. When the last tray was packed and the team assembled, we exited through the back doors.

The van ride home was a quiet blur. I leaned my head against Max’s shoulder, and he rested his head on mine. Darkness claimed me quickly, and I was startled awake only when the van stopped.

"Sleeping beauty, time to go home," Max teased, helping me out of the vehicle.

"Thanks, Max," I said, stretching as I started my walk.

"See you tomorrow," he called after me with a chuckle.

I threw my hair up, exhaling deeply. Royalty was a world I didn’t want, but tonight had shown me glimpses of something else—exhausting, chaotic, and strangely magical.

Fuck royalty.