I bit my lip hard, willing the tears away. This wasn’t the first time he had evaded my company, but he had never explicitly told me to leave. He wouldn’t even look at me, or the invitation I spent hours picking out.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing the card. The crown prince had just sentenced me to a miserable birthday thanks to his stubbornness. I could kiss the chocolate fountain goodbye. And the ponies.
But Mama would understand, wouldn’t she? The crown prince’s will was out of my control. I tried my best.
The footman emerged from behind the shelves. “I’ll escort you to the parlor, milady,” he said.
I fumed silently, glaring at Crown Prince Bennett’s straight back. He even sat like a boring person. I heard Mama’s tongue clicking in the back of my mind.
Take your leave properly, Narcissa, she would’ve said.
I dipped into another perfect curtsy though he couldn’t see it. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”
The footman walked me back to the door. When I turned, I was surprised to see that the crown prince had followed. Maybe he changed his mind after all.
Before I could extend the invitation again, he reached for the knob and shut the door in my face.
Tears threatened to burst from my eyes. I huffed instead, lifting my chin so they wouldn’t fall. Mama always said I looked disgusting when I cried.
I couldn’t tell her what had passed on the carriage ride to our manor. Mama’s visit to King Maximus had put her in a glowing mood. She was all smiles and cheerful comments. I basked in them as long as I could. But the dreaded question came when we arrived home.
“Did you give the crown prince his invitation?” Mama asked, peeling off her gloves.
His invitation was buried in a bed of pansies in the royal gardens. But I left that part out as I ducked my head and relayed what had happened.
When I looked up, Mama’s face was creased into a harsh frown. No trace of her previous levity was in sight.
“You had one simple job, and even that you couldn’t do correctly. You’ve ruined your chance, Narcissa!” My name was harsh on her tongue.
Nar-cis-sa. Each syllable had the lash of a whip.
My eyes welled with tears at these invisible injuries. “Mama I didn’t mean to!” My voice took on the whine I knew she hated.
She scoffed, rapped me three times on my wrists, and sent me to my room.
That night I sobbed with Misty in my arms, missing Father and his warm hugs. But my kitten’s soft fur and gentle nuzzles comforted me immensely. Even if nobody liked me, at least Misty did.
And that was all that mattered.
