“Theactualking and queen?”
“Yes,” I say, suddenly feeling nervous that I want them to like me.
“Addy, what is your life right now?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “But I kinda like it. Feels like change is coming. Like something is bubbling under the surface.”
A laugh releases from me, and a burst of excitement overtakes me. I’ve been missing this sensation in my life for far too long.
I move to the mirror in the corner of the room and study my reflection. My hair is tangled from traveling, and my eyes are tired.
“So, are you really buckling down and focusing on work? No fun while you’re there?” she asks, like she needs confirmation.
“I really want to win this contest, babe. On the flight over, I was thinking about how cool it would be to addroyal portrait artistto my résumé. If I won, my work would survive through the centuries. Louis is a side quest, if the opportunity arises.”
“Uh-huh. Side quests always get the damselintodistress.”
I think about our exchange at the gallery and how he looked at me like I was art.
“He won’t stand a chance against me,” I say.
Kendall laughs. “That’s my girl. But be careful, okay? You’ve never met a fuckboy you couldn’t break, but this one’s a professional. Some might say a royal fuckboy.”
“Doesn’t concern or deter me.”
“That’s what worries me the most.” Her voice softens. “Remember what we talked about. Going with the flow and being open to things.”
“I’m open to everything.”
“Even falling in love?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say. “But we know how that’s worked out for me in the past. Anyway, I have to get ready.”
“Have loads of fun!”
“I plan on it.”
I end the call and stare at myself in the mirror, knowing I have an hour and a half to transform myself so I’m presentable to meet Louis’s parents. This shouldn’t be difficult, considering I took etiquette lessons from the age of three and into adulthood. My mother insisted. Plus, it was helpful in boarding school.
I shower and do my makeup lightly for a more natural look. I slide on the green silk dress that brings out the teal in my eyes. Then I put on my lucky pearl earrings, which I’ve worn to every major event in my life. The nude heels add three inches to my height. I look professional and put together.
When the car arrives five minutes early, I’m ready.
A footman leads me down a hallway of paintings and marble busts of people who died before America even existed.
My heels click against the marble floors and echo off the vaulted ceilings, but I keep my shoulders back and chin level because I’ve perfected looking confident even if I’m not.
The footman opens a set of double doors. “Miss Addison Cross of New York.”
The room is smaller than I expected. It’s intimate rather than grand. Tall windows overlook the sea. Leather furniture is arranged comfortably around a fireplace. Two people rise from their chairs and halt their conversations to greet me.
I drop into a curtsy that has been well practiced for decades. It’srespectful and held for exactly the right amount of time. “Your Majesties. Thank you for the honor of this invitation.”
The queen studies me with open interest. She’s elegant in a way that goes beyond clothes or jewelry. Her eyes are the same striking blue as her son’s, though I push that thought away as soon as it surfaces.
“Miss Cross.” She extends her hand, and I take it, surprised by the warmth of her grip. “Welcome to Montclaire. We’ve heard wonderful things about your work.”
“You’re very kind, Your Majesty.”
