How drunk is he?
Her father’s jaw clenched. Hannah’s laughter carried across the room from where she was talking to a group of other women. The sound snapped him back to the present.
“You know,” the king said confidently, “back in my day?—”
“Ladies wouldn’t dare gossip so loudly?”
Mischief replaced his somber mood. “Actually, no. I think your generation is much more subtle. Back in my day, it was a high honor for a lady to be the last person a prince danced with at the end of the night.”
“Well, I’m sure whoever Prince Alexander danced with is quite pleased about that,” Evelyn said, already bored with the new topic. “Wasn’t it Hannah?”
Her father pivoted to face her directly. “He danced withyou, Evelyn. I expected him to dance with Hannah, but then he asked you.”
Seriously, how much wine has he had?
“No, he didn’t. I danced with Leo during the last song.”
“Leo?”
“The man I was just with.”
“The man who kissed your hand when the dance ended?”
A storm cloud of anxiety gathered in Evelyn’s chest.
This feels like the day we arrived, when I couldn’t see the giant rose over the palace and Father had to explain it to me. But if I’m wrong this time… it’s so much worse.
“I don’t understand,” Evelyn said. “He’s not the prince. I haven’t even met the prince.”
“You have,” the king insisted. “Hells, he spent half a day in your hospital room!”
“No… no, that was Leo.”
Her father stared at her. “Where is Leo now?”
Evelyn pointed to where she last saw him. “Over there. He… he’s talking to King Gerard.” Her voice started to shake as her chances of winning this argument dwindled.
One guard would never get that much attention from a king… but a prince would.
“Prince Alexander is talking to the king, to his father,” Evelyn’s father explained. “What does he look like to you?”
Evelyn’s breaths came faster. “He has dark brown hair and blue eyes. He doesn’t look anything like the portraits of the prince!”
“Does the king look like his portrait?”
“Yes! The queen does too, mostly, except her hair is a bit darker.”
“So that means”—King Tristan thought about it—“the prince, and the queen to some extent, are using illusions to affect their appearance.”
“But I can’t see illusions.”
I’m going to vomit.
“He told you his name is Leo?”
Leo, or Alexander, glanced at Evelyn from across the room. Their eyes met, and she didn’t have time to hide the hurt on her face.
“I’m sorry, Ev—” her father started.
