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“Lady Sadira, arise.” My hand took hers, lifting her back to her full height. “You have simply entranced me. I find myself speechless at your beauty.”
“All praise is due to those who helped me, Sire.”
Like Galen, she used my father’s title. I glanced away, overcome by the emotions that ravaged me for a split second. Again, I knew my place was to correct her to use Your Highness, but for a moment, I allowed the whole kingdom to view me as their king. Within less than three weeks, I likely would be.
And would it be Sadie at my side when I was?
“Then tell me who to praise,” I held her hand higher and stepped back as though to admire their work, “because they have truly outdone themselves with highlighting your best traits.”
Her dark eyes shifted away for a moment, reticent to answer. “It is Lady Michaela’s dress, Your Highness. She helped me prepare this morning.”
I faltered at her name. The pang of everything that had happened still too sharp to swallow. I forced a smile onto my face. “She is a woman of many talents, but even the painter is only as good as the canvas.” I stepped closer again, relishing the way my nearness stole a breath from her. “And you’re more beautiful than any work of art I have ever set my sights on.”
Behind her, I heard the rustle of Tom and his underlings, making plans, talking about editing. The line would likely run in every promo before the episode aired. But I found myself questioning my motivation.
Had I said it because I meant it, because I knew the kingdom would love it, or because I had become desperate to erase the feelings I felt for the one I couldn’t have?
Michaela
With Fitz gone for most of the day, the rest of us had very little to do. No one wanted to talk, not even for the sake of gossip. Dagny had taken to trying to find some rope, determined to see if she could scale the walls in the entryway, bottom floor to third. Chantal got into it early on with Gwen, and the two of them had retreated to their corners to lick their wounds. Esme had found a book and a sunny window, and Blair had received permission to go home for the day to check on her ailing mother, leaving me alone and bored out of my mind.
I thought about calling Mom, but it was the middle of the night back home. Instead, I wandered the halls, faintly aware of Kabir’s footsteps behind me. He didn’t crowd, but he also didn’t leave me to my own desires. At least I knew if I started down the wrong hallway, he would stop me before an international incident broke out.
My footsteps echoed as I entered the entryway. Dagny stood in a pool of rope, fashioning a lasso of sorts while she occasionally eyed a gargoyle that glowered from the third-floor railing. I hesitated, worried I had an obligation to stop her before she did something foolish. But, in all honesty, if the queen found the two of us with rope, I was the one who would be punished. The safer plan was to put distance between myself and the unusual friend of the monarchy.
I pushed through the nearest door and stopped short. Of course, it was the ballroom where the choosing ceremonies took place. I’d walked through the doors more times than I had any other door in the kingdom, but the stark difference of the empty hall, void of cameras, people, and the fanfare that followed a choosing, left me off-balance. My steps echoed as I moved through the open space. The door opened behind me as Kabir stepped inside.
Raising a hand, I assured him I was safe. “Can I stay in here a moment? Just to clear my head?”
“Yes, milady. I’ll be outside.” He frowned and shot a look over his shoulder at the happenings in the entryway. “I might have my hands full if she can secure that gargoyle.”
My bodyguard eased the door shut behind him and I let out a slow breath, relishing a little alone time. In reality, between lady’s maids and other competitors and, of course, Kabir, my time to think was mostly at night, and by then I was exhausted.
I’d been informed by the others that the Christmas Eve Ball would be held in the ballroom. They were all at each other’s throats over whether they would be allowed to attend. That was what had spurred the argument between Chantal and Gwen. Apparently, it was the elite ball of the season, only second to the New Year’s Ball that would decide their fates.
Not mine. Maybe for a hot minute Fitz had thought of me that way, but after the day at the hospital, I doubted it anymore.
Still, what would it be like to attend a real ball in a real palace? I wouldn’t be around for the final announcement, so the Christmas Eve Ball was my only chance to enjoy it. Maybe Fitz would save one dance for me. I closed my eyes and imagined the ballroom alive with royal dignitaries and lords and ladies. Fitz’s imaginary arms wrapped around my waist as he launched us into a sweeping waltz pattern. The swell of the music propelled us onward, even if it was only in my mind. I had a ball gown left that I hadn’t had a chance to wear. The skirts would flare and swirl as he whipped me all over the dance floor. People would watch and wonder who was dancing so beautifully with the prince. Maybe it would change their minds. Maybe he would choos—
“If you arch your back more, you’ll achieve a better frame.”
Bishop’s voice jarred me from my thoughts, driving my heart into a dead sprint. I squawked and stumbled backward. “Where did you come from? Are you following me?”
He rose from his seat in the window on the farthest side. “Hardly, milady. I was here when you entered, I assure you. Both you and your guard dog managed to miss me.”
“Ha.” I scoffed at the thought. “I think you’re a stalker. You keep following me around and acting like you’re just there by accident but you—“
“I’m sorry you keep stumbling into my world, milady.” Bishop spoke over me. “Perhaps you can give me an itinerary of your wanderings and I will vacate myself from the immediate vicinity.” He cocked an eyebrow. “After all, what would your prince say to find us together again?”
“Oh, no.” I started for the door, a call for Kabir on the edge of my lips. “You got me in so much trouble last time.”
“Oh, come now,” Bishop jogged to try to catch up, “it couldn’t have been that big of a row, not with your status in the competition.
“It was.” I whirled back to face him. “I nearly lost my friend.”
He stopped, but a grin shifted into place that made me wonder if he ever took anything seriously. “But that wasn’t what bothered you, was it?” When my brow furrowed, he pressed on. “No, you were worried about losing your chance with him, yes?”
My stupid face must have confirmed it because his grin doubled with all the triumph of a small child who’d won a prize. Still, I attempted to deny it.
