Oliver nodded, leading me back to Queen Isobel’s office, this time keeping his distance as we walked. I knew he could tell that something had changed but was grateful he didn’t inquire what was wrong.
I said my goodbyes to the queen, promising to be in touch with Mirabel in the coming days to arrange the details of the donation drive. Oliver walked with me to the door and helped me into my coat. As he pressed a kiss to my cheek, I promised myself that I would withdraw from the competition just as soon as the donation drive was over.
“Adelaide, darling, you look magnificent,” Queen Mother Evelyn smiled, taking my gloved hands in her own and looking me over.
We were at a winter garden party hosted by Lord and Lady Thorne and their daughter Sabine, one of the other suitors in the competition. Sabine was one of the country’s most renowned environmentalists and an expert in sustainable floristry, so it was no surprise that her family had opted to host an outdoor party—even if it was the end of November. I had to hand it to Sabine, though: The garden was stunning. While some of the flowers were in movable planters that I assumed were kept in the greenhouses most of the time, she had plotted out the space to include a number of winter-blooming shrubs that provided a beautiful sea of color among the snow.
With her tight black curls, rich brown skin, and perfect, regal posture—not to mention her brilliant mind—Sabine would certainly make a wonderful queen and wife for Oliver if he chose her.
I tried not to wince at the thought. Several of my fellow contestants were wonderful women whom I had come to think of as my friends, but a pit still opened in my stomach every time I thought of one of them ending up with Oliver.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said, bobbing a curtsy at Evelyn.
Birdie, my best friend in the competition, chimed in, “When we were dress shopping, the shop owner said that Adelaide looked like you from the 1959 state dinner in that dress.”
I blushed, running my hands over the forest-green dress. I did love this dress, from the way it matched my eyes to how it hugged my body. The high neckline was elegant, with a keyhole cutout at the back that added a flairof drama. It also coordinated perfectly with one of my favorite pairs of vintage pumps in a lovely champagne hue.
I lifted my head and found Oliver’s gaze boring into me, raking over my body. I knew that hungry look in his eyes far too well. I half listened as Evelyn regaled us with the account of that state dinner, trying to keep my attention on her and away from Oliver in his perfect-fitting tuxedo. His thick blond hair was freshly cut and his jaw was smooth-shaven. He was close enough that I kept catching whiffs of his cologne, a mix of tobacco and caramel that made my head spin.
I turned my attention back to the group, listening to Evelyn’s story of the night she and the late King Francis had announced their engagement and of the way King Francis had worked to gain Evelyn’s trust and eventually her love, despite her initial reluctance at their arranged marriage.
My heart ached as my gaze returned to Oliver, knowing he was the same kind of man who would do anything to ensure his future wife felt safe with him. I knew because it was how he had always been with me.
I blinked rapidly, swallowing past the lump in my throat even as I laughed at a part of Evelyn’s tale. It was time to admit to myself why I hadn’t yet dropped out of the competition, regardless of having plenty of opportunities to do so: In spite of our history, in spite of all of the reasons that I told myself we couldn’t be together, I was deeply, desperately, whole-heartedly in love with Oliver Courtwright.
My first month living in the palace flew by far faster than I had expected. While Oliver settled into his new role as king, I did my best to get used to my temporary home.
The week following the coronation in particular passed in a blur. I met my new assistant, Vanessa, a kind woman in her early forties who had the distinct ability to reassure me while also brooking no nonsense. I was unsurprised to learn that she had a fourteen-year-old son; her capacity to shut down any foolishness was certainly a byproduct of raising a teenage boy on her own.
Vanessa was an ambulatory wheelchair user, and while she at first insisted that she could find ways to navigate the narrow doorways of the second-floor corridor that housed the family’s offices, Oliver and I quickly put an end to that argument.
“It’s the twenty-first century,” Oliver declared kindly. “It is high time we ensure the entire palace is accessible. I don’t know why this particular wing is lagging behind on those updates, but Knox and I have already retained a contractorto widen the office doorways, confirm the elevator is up to code, and perform any additional renovations necessary across the rest of the palace. While I have no doubt that you are capable of adapting to the current layout, you shouldn’t have to. We can do better.”
For now, Vanessa and I had set up our office on the ground floor, in a rarely used sitting room. I had been concerned about Vanessa feeling uncomfortable with us having a different office setup from the rest of the staff, but she assured me that she actually liked having a quieter space to work. If I was being honest, I agreed. I liked having fewer distractions, and working in the same space as Vanessa allowed me to get to know her better. I was hopeful that I could convince Oliver to keep her on staff after our engagement was over.
Vanessa quickly helped me establish a routine, or as much of one as was possible given Oliver’s and my busy schedules. When he was pulled away into meetings, I was often whisked away for wardrobe fittings and wedding-planning appointments.
After my second fitting, I found myself lamenting to Oliver over a late dinner—we both had commitments go long that afternoon and had encouraged the rest of his family to eat without us. We were settled into a small table in the kitchen, enjoying plates of roast chicken and couscous.
“I don’t know,” I sighed, setting my fork on the edge of my plate as I took a sip of water. “The stylists are perfectly nice, but I just don’t click with them. Maybe it’s from so many years of Dash bossing me around when we went shopping together; I’m just so used to him, and he inherently knows what I love.”
Oliver paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Well, that’s an easy solution,” he noted before finishinghis bite.
“What is?”
“We’ll hire Dash as your stylist.”
I gaped at him. “We can do that?”
Oliver smiled. “Of course! I mean, assuming he would want to do it. I wouldn’t want to take him away from a job he likes. But if he is interested, it would be no problem to bring him onto the team. I know it would make you more comfortable, and I think it would be nice for you to have a friend by your side for all of this. Sure, you have Birdie here, but you’ve known Dash since we were kids. Do you think he would be game?”
As much as I tried not to speak for my best friend, this was one instance in which I felt comfortable answering for him. “I will call him first thing in the morning, but I feel pretty certain he will jump at the opportunity.” I swallowed down any guilt that came with the thought that it would unknowingly be a short-term gig by reminding myself that having it on his résumé would allow Dash to get any job he wanted after the engagement ended.
And that was that. With Dash on the team, Vanessa guiding me through my day-to-day, and Birdie just steps away in her new role as the palace’s art curator, I found myself feeling ever more comfortable in my interim role. I missed teaching and seeing my students, but the knowledge that I was working toward securing the free meal program for them made it well worth it.
I even noticed that I had fallen into a pleasant routine with Oliver. On evenings when we didn’t have any engagements to attend, we often spent the hours before bedtime playing board games with his family or watching movies with Rosie. Occasionally Oliver and I would find ourselves chatting companionably in my sitting room, Shadow nestled between us on the settee. As much as I had initially resistedit, the friendship we had established years ago was returning, and a part of me was glad for it. Though I wasn’t ready to say it out loud, I really had missed him.
The blacked-out SUV rolled down the mountain road toward the event venue. Oliver sat next to me in the middle row and scrolled on his phone while I watched the snow-covered mountains pass by us.
