“I promise.” On my side, at least. I haven’t a clue about Maisie’s motives.
His eyes narrow, and I’m certain he’s reading my emotions. I keep my breathing steady, willing my energy not to dip into panic. I’ve come to realize I can avoid his suspicion so long as my intentions align with my words. That’s how I got him to believe I’m Maisie’s friend and maid. I amamaid, after all, according to my stepfamily. And I do consider Maisie to be a kindred spirit, if not a friend. Finally, he nods and pushes off the balustrade. “Very well.”
“Very well? What does that mean?”
“It means you get to live another day. Many, if you play your part well.”
A flash of irritation has my muscles tensing. Is anything ever straightforward with him? “I ask again, what the hell does that mean?”
He winks. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
I’m about to say more when the balcony doors fly opens. My heart leaps into my throat as I meet the stunned faces of my stepsisters. They look from me to the prince and back again, cheeks burning crimson at the sight of our near nakedness. “Forgive us,” Imogen says, dipping into a low curtsy. When Clara doesn’t move, Imogen tugs her skirt until she too lowers. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.” With eyes downcast, they begin to retreat.
“Fret not, for I was just leaving,” Franco says with a dazzling grin. His wings sprout from his back, and I expect him to leap off the balcony. Instead, he strides over to me. Before I know it, his arms snake around my waist, gathering me close. I place my hands on his chest to keep from making full contact, only to realize how intimate the gesture seems. He stares down at me with mock adoration. His words come out low and wistful. “But how can I leave you?”
I glare back at him. “Easily, I’m sure.”
He leans down, bringing his face close to mine. I flinch, my heart raging in my chest. From my periphery, I see my stepsisters’ mouths fall open. When I return my attention to the prince, his gaze has dipped to my lips. Without my permission, my eyes fall lower as well, taking in his full mouth as he leans closer and closer. I’m frozen in his arms, unsure what to do, what he’s playing at. As soon as a mere inch separates our mouths, he angles his head to the side, bringing our cheeks to touch. His breath stirs my hair, brushing the shell of my ear. “Play the part,” he whispers, voice low as he grasps me tighter.
It takes me several seconds to understand what he means.
This is all for show. For my stepsisters.
He’s letting me fulfill my bargain with Maisie because he…wants me toplay the part. Continue to court him—or pretend to, at least.
Thatis my punishment.
My conclusion does nothing to ease the tension coursing through every inch of me, coiling in my lower abdomen and heating my blood. Before I can consider what to do, he pulls away, eyes turned down at the corners as if every inch that builds between us is too great. He isn’t such a good actor that I believe him, but the way Imogen glowers and Clara swoons tells me they are fully convinced by his performance. He blows me a kiss and says, “I’ll see you tonight,” before leaping off the balcony and into the sky.
* * *
I can hardly bearto face my stepsisters, so I turn away from them to gather my composure. The sound of their swishing skirts announces their approach. “What might we do for you, Your Highness?” Imogen asks, her voice full of forced sweetness.
“Why are you in your underthings?” adds Clara, but a stifled grunt tells me Imogen kicked her for the impertinent question.
I take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves.They don’t know it’s me, I tell myself.Be the princess. Forcing my lower lip to quiver, I turn around to face them. “Oh, it was dreadful,” I say in a voice I hope sounds much unlike my own. “The prince took me through the woods for a leisurely ride and our coach was attacked by brigands. The man made us give him our clothes.” I make the last word come out softer than a squeak, and I grip the balustrade while I pretend to sway on my feet.
Imogen puts a hand on my shoulder, and I do my best not to recoil at her touch. “How awful, Your Highness! Come inside and let us care for you.”
I nod, allowing the girls to flank me as they lead me into the room. Once inside, they guide me to the sitting area where I lower into a chair. Imogen pours a cup of tea and places it before me, while Clara hands me a plate of scones. It takes all my restraint not to laugh. My two hateful stepsisters are servingmefor once. I take a bite of scone, suddenly aware of how hungry I am, and wash it down with warm tea.
“Shall we run your bath, Your Highness?” Clara asks.
“Please,” I say with a generous smile.
Clara leaves for the washroom, while Imogen moves to the wardrobe. “Would you like me to pick you something to wear to the opera?” There’s a bitter edge to her tone, one I’m not sure anyone else but me would notice.
“The opera?” I echo.
Her expression clouds with annoyance, but she quickly trains it behind a contrived grin. “His Royal Highness said he’d see you tonight,” she explains, “and tonight is the opera in Evanston. Everyone knows the prince is planning to make an appearance. Apparently, he’s bringing you.”
Excitement and panic war inside me. I’m going to the opera. The opera! I’ve never been before, not even when I was a child, but…I’m going to the opera…with the prince. As the princess. As hisdate.
Imogen opens the wardrobe doors and begins shuffling through the clothes inside. I’m so caught up in my thoughts, it takes me a full minute before I realize something about the wardrobe.
It was almost empty this morning…
And is now full of items that had previously been in and around the princess’ chests.
