And yet…she isn’t a princess.
I shake the thoughts from my head. “Look at you, getting all sappy over romance.”
“I’m in love, Franco. I’m going to ask Seri to be my mate tonight.” He dons a grin so wide, I could count every one of his teeth if I tried. With a waggle of his brows, he adds, “You should do the same with Princess Maisie. Females love declarations at fancy events. Besides, it was your idea to forgo masks tonight. What were your words…so we can show our true faces? What’s truer than love?”
“Love makes fools of us all,” I say with a shrug and turn toward the palace.
“Including you?” Augie calls at my back. “Just admit it. You’ve fallen hard.”
I scoff, but my lungs seem to shrink. It feels like something stirs inside my chest, begging to be released. It’s new and terrifying and feels too large for my body.
Augie’s laughter follows me, but his prior words are what linger.
What’s truer than love?
* * *
EMBER
“Your hair always looks perfect,” Clara says from next to me as I assess my reflection in the mirror. She’s dressed me in a rosy pink evening gown with billowing layers of silk and chiffon. “Although are you sure you don’t want me to style it for you? You never wear it any other way. Perhaps something a little more daring for the ball?”
I meet her eyes in the mirror and try to offer her a convincing smile. “That’s not necessary,” I say. Even though I’m confident the glamour will obey most physical manipulations of movement, I don’t want to risk Clara discovering any cracks in the mirage. Besides, I’ve never known Clara to be proficient with hair. Until Mrs. Coleman dismissed our last servant due to her financial mismanagement, my stepfamily had their hair dressed every day by a maid.
Her expression falls. “All right. Well, is there anything else I can do to make you more…you know…interesting?”
I purse my lips to keep from laughing. The longer my stepsister has been without Imogen’s constant interference, the more tolerable she’s become. She hasn’t learned much about tact, however. I wonder how a real princess would react to her constant slips.
“Please tell me you at least have a glamour,” she says. “Now that the prince has deemed the Full Moon Frolic an unmasked event, one’s glamour is more important than ever. I’ll let you wear mine if you want. It’s quite boring, though.” She glances down at herself, wrinkling her nose. She wears the same peacock glamour she wore to the New Moon Masquerade, which tells me my stepmother couldn’t afford new glamours for tonight’s ball. Or perhaps just not for Clara.
“For one, Miss Coleman,” I say as haughtily as I can, “your glamour isn’t boring. For another, I do have one more thing to add to my ensemble.” My pulse quickens as I open my dressing table drawer to retrieve the gilded box I’d tucked inside. I open it slowly, savoring the feel of the box, the tissue, and the delicate beauty of the necklace inside. Clara gasps as I lift it and bring it to the mirror.
“Where did you get that?” she asks, eyes bulging.
“It’s from the prince.” My voice nearly breaks on the last word. I can hardly look at the gift without being moved to tears all over again.
“Let me help you with it.” Clara takes the necklace from me, being surprisingly gentle as she helps me put it on. Memories come to me unbidden of when Franco had done the same, but I shake them from my mind and keep my eyes focused on my reflection. As soon as the clasp is closed, my pink gown turns dark indigo with just a hint of rosy undertones peeking through. The silver constellations and stars stand out in stark contrast, as do the three staves of music at the hem. My gaze lingers on the latter, sending waves of warmth pulsing in my chest.
A song for new life.
A song for safety.
A song for love.
A sniffle breaks me out of my reverie, and I turn to find Clara wiping tears from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She dabs her cheeks. “You’re just so beautiful and kind. And…and I can tell how much the prince loves you.”
The prince loves you.
A thousand butterflies take flight from my ribcage.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from replying, knowing if I speak, my voice will come out with a tremor.
Clara sniffles again and gives me a small smile. “Your Highness, I’m sorry if my sister or I ever made you feel…well, I don’t know how we might have made you feel. But I’m sorry if I ever acted ungrateful to be in your service. Whatever Imogen did to earn your displeasure, I apologize on her behalf.”
It isn’t hard to imagine what she’s left unsaid—that she’s sorry for her mother and sister’s secret scheme to have Imogen woo Franco. She, of course, has no idea that I know all about it. I keep my voice even as I say, “There’s nothing to apologize for.” A lie, but a necessary one.
“You deserve Prince Franco. Of course you do. Just look at you!” She gestures toward the mirror. “You’re a princess. The perfect future queen.”
