Free Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) by Abigail Graham Page A

"Follow me if you want."
    I turn, and, like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of hell, I dare not look back. I don't have to. I smell a cool, wintery berry scent and know Ana is following me to sit beside me, joining me as I sit. She takes a moment to arrange her stuff in silence.
    "If we're done playing musical chairs"—Grandolf scowls—"might I begin my lecture? We have a lot to cover today. We'll be looking at the roots of the Spanish-American War."
    Ana starts to type.
    I assume it's notes, but then notice she’s typing in caps.

    W HAT DO YOU WANT

    I slink down in the seat. I murmur, "I can help you. Let me ask you something. Are you any good at math?"
    "Yes," she murmurs.
    "Like, geometry?"
    "Perfect score."
    I slip out my last assignment and hold up the grade so she can see it. Her eyes widen a little.
    "I'm a history major," I whisper, barely mouthing the words. "What do you major in, anyway?"
    Her voice is very small and soft. "Business."
    "Excuse me," Grandolf cuts in from fifty feet away. "Miss DeVries."
    Ana bristles as Grandolf addresses her without her royal style. She swallows, hard. Her throat bobs. She glances at me as if begging for help.
    Oh that is it. That is just it. I'm starting to get mad.
    Calm down, Jason. Don't tilt at this windmill.
    I take a deep breath.
    Grandolf hides neither her contempt nor her malice with her expression. She stands, one foot out, like a conquering general, hands on her hips, chest out, chin tipped back.
    "Tell us, what role did William Randolph Hearst play in the buildup to the war?"
    Ana clears her throat, and I brace myself.
    Her voice is clear and high. "Hearst used his newspaper network to spread propaganda that the sinking of the USS Maine in Havana Harbor was Spanish sabotage. Most historians today agree it was an accident and the Spanish were blameless. Hearst instigated the war to benefit his partnerships with—"
    "Yes indeed," Grandolf snaps, annoyed. "If only you were so eloquent in your assignments. As I was saying, Hearst's business connections allowed him to profit from his manipulations of public opinion through leading and biased news stories, which today we refer to as 'yellow journalism'…."
    Ana fumes in her seat, bending the top of her textbook in tight fingers. I touch her arm, just above her wrist. The skinny muscles under my fingers are as tight as steel cables.
    "Hey," I murmur. "Hey, calm down."
    Ana's fury melts into something else, and he lip trembles. She scrubs at her wet eyes.
    "I want to leave," she says softly.
    "No, that's letting her win. Stay right where you are."
    I squeeze her hand, then quickly let go. Her fingers touch my palm for a moment.
    From the corner of my eye, I watch her sullenly taking notes. She's very efficient and organized in her note-taking, using a divided screen to jot down questions and ideas as she goes. I only jot down what subjects Grandolf is covering so I can brush up a bit before the tests.
    Anastasia is like steel, hard and brittle at the same time, but there's a softness in her too. Hit her too hard and she might shatter.
    Oh stop being a romantic idiot, Jason. She doesn't need a hero.
    Doesn't she, though? After all, she is a princess, and I am a knight. Sort of. A Knight.
    Grandolf doesn't call on her again for the remaining forty-five minutes of lecture. In fact, she ignores us both. It's odd she hasn't called me, as she usually does once per class, often for the more difficult questions. When she's done, she practically beats the whiteboard to death scribbling down the homework assignment: more dumb review questions.
    As the students file out, I rest my hand on Princess Anastasia's. "Hold up a minute."
    "I have another class in fifteen minutes."
    "You'll make it. I just want to ask you something."
    "If it's asking me to sleep with you, the answer is no."
    "I do want to ask that, just not this minute. Are you all right?"
    She blinks. "All right?"
    "You looked pretty broken up earlier."
    She tucks the offending