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I snapped awake, panting and unnerved. Dahlia backed away from the bed, even more wide-eyed than I was.
“Apologies, milady. I couldn’t wake you and they requested your presence at breakfast in the next twenty minutes. I didn’t know what to do.”
I set my palm over my heart and drew in a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m a deep sleeper.” I looked up to meet her eyes with my sincerest gratitude. “Thanks for waking me up. I was having a naked dream.”
To me, it was a perfectly logical thing to say. Standing on stage with nothing to say and no dress in sight was my typical nightmare to have before any stressful event.
But as Dahlia paled at the words, I realized maybe it wasn’t as normal as I thought.
“A naked dream?” Her hands twisted together with nervous energy. “Was the prince there?”
“Yes, but—” At my confession, her mouth dropped open and I was quick to set her thinking straight. “It wasn’t like that. I was on stage at a pageant and I hadn’t gotten dressed, that’s all. Fitz, I mean, Prince Fitzborough was supposed to be a judge.”
“Of your nakedness? That’s a strange American tradition.”
“No,” I pushed the blankets off, “it’s not real. It was a figment of my imagination. You really haven’t had a dream where you were naked and everyone stared at you?”
Dahlia’s cheeks pinked. “I try not to be naked ever, milady, even in dreams. It’s not modest.”
“Right.” This was a losing battle. She probably showered in her underwear. “It’s a dream I have when I’m stressed. That, and forgetting my dresses or ripping my dresses, you name it and I’ll stress dream it. Showing up on stage without a dress is pretty par for the course.”
Her head cocked to the side. American idioms likely didn’t make sense to her. But she shook her head, resolute in her response. “Milady, I promise I will never let you out the door in your nakedness.”
Did she think that was something I did normally? But I feared correcting her would only lead to more confusion. “Thank you, Dahlia.” I pulled my bag onto the bed and started searching for clothes. “And remember, in here, just call me Mick”
“Yes, Lady Michaela.” She gave a short curtsy like I’d seen the other staff members do and started sorting through my armoire.
“Seriously, you can drop all that extra stuff.” I motioned to my flannel pajamas as evidence that I was different. “I’m a normal girl from California. There’s nothing royal about me.”
Dahlia paused and turned back to face me. “The prince made you a lady of court last night. I saw it on the broadcast.”
Oh, this game Fitz had me playing…
“Yes, but it was for show, Dahlia. I’m an American. I can’t be a Nolcovian noble.”
“But the prince said it.” She stared with her crinkled brow. “What he speaks is law.”
If she knew what I knew… I decided not to push it any further. Changing the subject, I asked, “What’s on the schedule for today?”
She shifted a couple gowns to the side, only pausing a moment to admire the workmanship which, as the designer, I appreciated. “We were originally told that it would be an athletic sport from America, baseball, I guess. But with the snowfall last night, his Royal Highness changed his mind.”
I hadn’t bothered to look out the windows yet. But where I came from, snow was unheard of, and waking up to a winter wonderland sounded like a dream come true.
The good kind.
Not the naked kind.
“The only clue we have is a cryptic message from the prince.” Dahlia continued to explain, but I pressed forward toward the window. Frost edged every pane with various patterns of icy artwork. The chill crept up my arms like fog as I moved closer. Through the clear space at the center of the pane, I looked out on the snowscape.
Powdery snow coated every surface. The gardens, the wall, the hills in the distance. Transfixed, I couldn’t look away from the sight. The sun hit the white sheet at just the right angle, creating sparkles that twinkled and danced across the flawless surface.
“The note said: Winter brought a chill, but we are just warming up. Be ready to give it all you’ve got.”
Breakfast in the dining hall moved quickly. Most, like Blair and Sadie, were too nervous to eat. While others chose from the buffet provided, Sadie spun the bracelet on her wrist, preoccupied with her thoughts. Maybe I should have taken that approach, or even Esmerey’s nervous hand wringing as she picked at a berry muffin. But the chocolate-stuffed pastry I’d found in the lineup stole my full attention.
It also gave me a reason to stay in the midst of the contestants, watching and observing, mostly out of my duty to Fitz, but also out of concern that any one of them could turn psycho ax murderer on him at any second. Sadie had mentioned other provinces, but I honestly didn’t understand how Nolcovia worked. I stared at a marble goat statue that stood between the muffins and the scones like a breakfast sentinel.
I really didn’t understand the goats.
