CHAPTER ONE
Today is my favorite day of all the special days that recur every year. Really. The Pombrio Carnival trumps my birthday, Christmas Day, and even the release days of myEurope on a Big Budgettravel guides. At no other event—especially not one held here at the royal palace—can I relax and enjoy myself like this.
Anonymity is a gift that never gets old.
Tonight, dear subjects, this blondie is not Princess Eugénie. Nor is she blond. She’s just another incognito carnival goer in a crinoline dress, powdered wig, and lacy black mask.
Audrey, in herPirates of the Caribbeangetup complete with a real saber, weaves through the flamboyant crowd with me in tow. I revel in not being sought out, greeted, noticed… Heck, I don’t even mind being jostled! It’s proof they don’t recognize me.
The jostling makes Audrey growl. She’s ex-army, experienced in both personal and cybersecurity, and I fear she sticks out too much despite her cool costume. Her hyperalert demeanor and the ultrafocused way she surveys the room might give us away. Where others scan the crowd looking for an appealing dance partner, Mademoiselle Audrey Zanata’sbody language conveys an entirely different intent. It roughly translates as “I’m watching you, every single one of you! Try something funny, and you’re toast.”
That said, she knows better than to punch or shove my unwitting jostlers. Her future career depends on how astutely she’ll arbitrate the difference between my safety, which is her raison d’être, and our anonymity, which is my goal for tonight. Audrey and I are on day seven of our test run together, and tomorrow I must decide if I’m keeping her as my personal attendant, aka bodyguard.
Draped in gold and crystal and buzzing with the energy of the carnival, the grand ballroom is a dizzying spectacle of colors and costumes. Most of Mount Evor’s upper crust is here, partying beneath the jumbo chandeliers. Hidden behind ornate masks and elaborate wigs, nobles and royals waltz around the ballroom to the beautiful music of the Royal Orchestra, or talk in small groups, or flirt in pairs.
I scan the figures and faces around me.
Is he here? Will I recognize him if he is?
Those are purely rhetorical questions, because Henri de Bellay has no more reason to be here than he did last year, or the year before that, or any time in the last ten years. He’s likely in France, where he lives. And even if I did recognize him after all these years, it’s not like I’m going to go up to him and say hi.
But just in case we bump into each other, I’ve made sure it’s nearly impossible to recognize me. Besides the costume, mask and wig, I’m wearing brown-tinted lenses. I’ve also practiced modulating my voice so that I can speak in a lower register than my normal pitch.
So much effort to hide from someone who isn’t here!
In my defense, all that effort wasn’t exclusively for Henri’s benefit. I hope it will also help me avoid my current suitors, the Marquess Julian Castellane being the most insistent of the lot.
I should’ve never slept with him!The experience was, unsurprisingly, meh. But that isn’t even the worst part. My lapse of judgment catapulted Julian from a hopeful among many to a “chosen” who believes it’s only a matter of time until I’m his.
Ugh!If he’s here tonight, I’ll have to talk with him, dance with him, and suffer his clumsy reminders that he’s the future Duke of Rohinn. In short, it will irreparably ruin my favorite day of the year.
“Psst, Audrey,” I stage-whisper over the music.
She spins around, her hand instinctively reaching for her real gun, cleverly disguised as part of her ensemble.
I clear my throat. “Um… Uh… I need you to give me some space.”
She blinks, not catching my drift.
“You know, I’m perfectly safe here,” I continue. “With all the palace security, metal detectors and ID verifications, the risk is zero.”
Her brow furrows. “There is no such thing as zero risk.”
“Next to zero, then. Listen, I don’t want to pull rank, so this isn’t an order. It’s a request.”
She hesitates.
I press my palms together. “Please? I promise I won’t leave the ballroom!”
“All right,” she finally concedes. “But I’ll keep an eye on you from afar.”
I let out a sigh. “Do what you must.”
She falls back, but her eyes never leave me as she melts into the crowd.
Free at last, I glide through the room to the soft swish of my crinolines of my dress. It’s an over-the-top baroque number that plunges daringly at the front and leaves my shoulders bare. I paid a small fortune for it, knowing I’ll never wear it again.
Oh well, being a princess does have its perks.
