She rushes to Bram and falls at his feet. “Please, Your Highness, pick me, pick me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Bram helps her stand. “Mother?” He looks over his shoulder to where the queen stands, her face expressionless. She nods her sharp chin at a footman, who carries Sara away, kicking and screaming.
I don’t like Sara, but I do feel pity for her. I wouldn’t wish her fate on anyone.
Despite it all, relief courses through my body. I’ve made it. I’m one of the final six. Marion Thorne falls next, though it happens a little too slowly and carefully to be an accident.
Olive gets tangled up in her ribbon and falls shortly after, immediately bursting into tears.
Emmy doesn’t last much longer.
With only three of us left—me, the dark-haired girl, and Greer—the crowd is in an absolute frenzy.
Greer’s face is wet with sweat, her eyes furious as they bore into mine.
Greer and I worked well as best friends because she always knew I was never going to be a threat to her. For years, it was always the same comments:Ivy doesn’t worry about being pretty, mustn’t that be nice?orIt’s lovely that Ivy and I will come out the same season. She can help me manage my full dance card.
She’s staring at me now like I might actually give her a run for her money. For the first time in our lives, Greer Trummer is having to take me seriously.
“Thanks for lying for me at the atelier yesterday,” I pant. “I’ll let you be one of my ladies-in-waiting.”
“Shut up,” she hisses through gritted teeth. But in her distraction, her foot lands wrong and she falls, sputtering in the mud.
She curses, pounding her fist in the puddle before being dragged off.
I give myself only one turn around the pole to laugh.
The band slows as the musicians tire. We must have been dancing for over two hours.
The crowd is shouting, but I can hardly make it out over the pounding in my ears. “Ivy!” That’s my father’s voice. “Go, Ivy!”
There’s another name being shouted. “Faith!” That must be the name of the girl in front of me.
Faith’s cheeks are red with exertion, sweat dripping from her hairline down into the collar of her white dress.
But her face is stony, giving nothing away. I respect her for it.
I’m so tired. It would be easy to stop. But the sun catches the jewels in the May Queen tiara, and I picture giving it to my parents. They could sell it for more money than we’ve seen my entire life. Itmight save our house. It might even be enough for Lydia and me to live on without husbands.
I turn with renewed energy, my feet pounding into the mud.
Two little girls burst through to the front of crowd. “Faith!” they shout. “Go, Faith!”
She spots them and smiles, her perfect face finally cracking.
In her distraction, her left foot lands a little sideways in a crater of mud and she trips. She tries to hold on to her ribbon, but it rips. The crowd gasps, and Faith falls to the ground, splattered in mud.
There is stunned silence, and then comes a burst of riotous applause.
The crowd parts, and the queen and Bram walk toward us. Ever the gentleman, Bram helps Faith to her feet, but his eyes are on me.
The May Queen crown glints in the sun as the queen raises it high, so that everyone gathered can see it, then lowers it onto my head.
The crowd is cheering, there’s a shower of flower petals raining down on me like snow, but my gaze lands on a single figure in the crowd.
His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth screwed up in a scowl, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Standing completely still, staring at me like he absolutely loathes me, is Prince Emmett De Vere.
Chapter Seven
