Because Nicolas of Harlington has just taken the stage, and he doesn’t seem pleased to see me.
Slowly, I turn to face my father, meeting his gaze with a cold, steady look.
“What is she doing here?”
My gaze shifts to her brother.
“No offense, Henry, your presence doesn’t bother me. I just don’t understand what your sister is doing here.” My voice is colder than a Siberian winter, but I have to give Amelia some credit; she doesn’t even flinch at my harsh words.
“Nicolas! Shut your mouth and stop insulting my guests,” my father growls, annoyed, and I shrug.
“Sorry, but didn’t you teach us to be honest?” The look he gives me makes me actually hold my tongue, just this once.
I mime zipping my lips and sit down. My gaze falls briefly on Amelia, and I pause for a moment. I wasn’t prepared for those eyes staring back at me, filled with disdain.
Have they always been this blue?
Amelia is beautiful, no question, but I haven’t bothered to look at her in ages.
So why does she look at me now as though she’d like to kill me? She, of all people, has no reason for that. Not her!
Well, this could get interesting, that’s for sure.
“Amelia, please forgive my son; he hasn’t been himself lately,” my father apologizes to Goldilocks, but she just waves it off and nods.
“It’s nothing; I expected nothing different,” she replies coolly, and once again, her sharp gaze hits me like a blade. Practically pierces me.
Wow, hang on. SHE expected nothing different? Is she serious? She doesn’t even know me.
But then,you don’t know her either, my inner voice reminds me, though I immediately silence it.
Before I can react, which admittedly wouldn’t have been wise or mature, Father steps in.
“There’s a reason why Amelia’s presence is necessary, as well as yours. We need to talk about the arrangement that has existed between our families for many years.” Father looks at me intently, and now Goldilocks turns pale.
Wait, what?
Only slowly do I grasp what he means by that.
“What is there to talk about? She was promised to Philipp. He’s dead now. No crown for you, Lady Perlington,” I say directly to her, looking at her challengingly. Once again, she surprises me, because she doesn’t look away from my penetrating gaze; in fact, she returns it, and for a moment, I feel a strange tightening within me. Because in her eyes, for just an instant, I see the same pain, grief, and despair that I carry in mine.
Only now do I notice the cut below her hairline, and I squint my eyes, taking a closer look at her for the first time.
She’s pale, with deep circles under her eyes, and sits stiffly, hardly moving. And when she does, her face barely flinches.
She’s hurt. Why on earth is her brother letting THIS happen?
Confused by the brief flare of anger rising in me, I break eye contact, only to look into the not-amused face of my beloved father.
“I think you’re mistaken, my son. Amelia will indeed get a crown. At your side.”
BOOM. The bomb drops.
Is he serious? He can’t be serious.
My ears start ringing, and I clench my fist over and over, just to avoid jumping up and punching my father. He’s insane. Simply insane. Yet I just sit there and stare at him, unable to say anything or react. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Amelia cast a sharp, almost hateful glance at her brother, only to then direct an even paler but emotionless expression at her king.
“What… I don’t quite understand? My marriage to Phil was arranged after my birth. I was supposed to marry him, not Nicolas.”
