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Jenna thought being a princess would be fun. But between palace rules, a tough boarding school and the ever-present paparazzi, Jenna finds herself wishing for anonymity again. So she runs away – into the hands of those who would bring down the newly unified kingdom of Scandia. Soon she must prevent a civil war – when all she really wanted was her first kiss.

The sequel to The Princess Plot from bestselling international author, Kirsten Boie, who is second only to Cornelia Funke in Germany.

Like the first story, The Princess Trap has the popular appeal of Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries but develops into a thriller akin to Sophie Mackenzie’s Girl Missing or Cornelia Funke’s Thief Lord.

Fast-paced, cleverly-plotted ‘real-life’ high drama for girls aged 10-14 years, it explores themes of friendship and loyalty, politics and power.

The Princess Plot has sold over 50,000 copies to date in English worldwide.

Scandia was celebrating.

Flags fluttered over the palace, and crowds of people clustered round the stalls and booths lining the boulevard.

‘To the king!’ they cried, raising their glasses. ‘To Scandia, united at last! And to a future full of joy and justice for all!’

Children, some dark and some fair, were playing in the palace park, which had been opened to the public for the first time in the country’s history. Balloons of all colours, dangling messages of goodwill, rose high in the sky, while music blared from loudspeakers up in the trees. Small boys and girls twisted and turned to the tunes, oblivious to everything around them, while older children played ball games on the lawns, yelling at the tops of their voices and getting grass stains on their best clothes, though today their mothers didn’t seem to care.

In the midst of the throng stood King Magnus and his sister Margareta. They shook hands, smiled and exchanged friendly words with the crowd, while their bodyguards kept a respectful distance. The two princesses – Malena, tall with short blonde hair, and Jenna, dark and smaller – had separated from them, and were happily waving to people, and laughing as children plucked at their skirts or nudged their elbows so that they could touch royalty. The two girls hummed along with the music from the loudspeakers, and graciously accepted bunches of flowers which they then discreetly passed on to their bodyguards.

Just a few paces away walked a dark-haired boy, his eyes always fixed on the smaller of the two girls as she acknowledged the cheers.

‘Isn’t it wonderful!’ whispered a woman, her head bent over a paper plate on which she was balancing a sausage while trying not to spill ketchup over her dress. ‘Who would ever have thought things would turn out so well after we saw the king go to his grave less than a year ago!’

Her husband skilfully turned some more sausages over on a disposable barbecue, and took a bottle out of the well-worn cool bag which he’d put down on the grass beside him.

‘When we thought we’d seen the king go to his grave!’ he said. ‘Good to see how happy the little princesses are now, after all they’ve been through. But you’re right, who’d have thought it?’

The woman stuck the rest of her sausage in her mouth, looked furtively round to see if anyone was watching, and then quickly licked her fingers. ‘Is there another one ready?’ she asked. ‘Thank you. And north and south united! Justice at last for the northerners!’

Her husband passed her the ketchup. ‘Some people won’t be too happy about the election results,’ he said. ‘In fact, some people are going to be very unhappy. They think there are far too many northerners in the government now.’

‘Who cares what they think?’ the woman said. ‘There are more northerners in Scandia than southerners, so we’ve just got to get used to it. As our king keeps telling us: we in the south must learn to share our wealth. And now you can see just how happy the country is.’

The man pursed his lips. ‘Let’s hope so,’ he said sceptically. ‘Let’s just hope so.’

Some distance away from the hustle and bustle, standing in the shade of the tall old cedar trees, a group of men in elegant suits and uniforms gazed thoughtfully out over the lawn as the king came towards them.

‘To the happiness of our country!’ they said, raising their glasses to the king. ‘And to the fact that at last we’ve entered the family of free, democratic nations. Long live King Magnus! Long live Princess Margareta! Long live the two princesses!’

‘And long live the great and the good of Scandia,’ said the king, also raising his glass, ‘who have so courageously supported these reforms.’ Then he turned once more to the crowd and waved them a swift goodbye.

The men watched him go, and no one noticed the wary glances they cast behind themselves as they spoke to one another in lowered voices.

The two princesses would have been the last to notice such things anyway. In their billowing dresses they raced across the lawn, almost drunk with joy; they linked arms and laughed and waved to the right and the left, and they thought nothing could go wrong.