Page 27 of The Royal Art of Revenge

A true, honest to God miracle.

But those things don’t happen to me. And if they did, I’d say I already exhausted my one designated miracle when I ran into Crown Prince Finley at the park.

I’m ushered out of the car and into a small wing of the palace. The security protocols are exactly as I was told, and they don’t take long, either. In less than ten minutes, I have my bags back, and I’m being hurried down a long hallway with no time at all to take in my surroundings.

The woman from the car is a few steps ahead of me, and another two security personnel are behind me. I’m completely surrounded, as I knew I would be, and this really does reinforce my need for a miracle.

Alas, the sky doesn’t open. There’s no miraculous shooting of lightning in my path. No bugs, no floods, no whatever else it is that generally shakes things up on a biblical level.

Shame.

“This is the room you’ll be shooting in today,” the woman from the car says. “You can go in and get things set up, and someone will let the… client… know you’re here.”

I smile warmly at her and look around the huge room. It’s right out of a fairytale—painted ceiling, gilded walls, rich antique furniture that’s probably priceless. It’s by far the most regal setting I’ve ever taken photos in.

“Thank you,” I say quietly to the woman. “And I’m sorry, but I’ve been very rude. I never asked for your name.”

She blinks at me as if it’d never occurred to her that I’d do such a thing. “Sophia.”

“Well, thank you, Sophia.” I set my bags down and smile again. “Will you be staying the whole time?”

“I believe that’s the plan, yes.”

“Would you mind helping me at all? I’d like to move some of the furniture for better lighting, and—”

“Oh, we have that taken care of.” She pulls a phone out of her pocket and dials, then holds it to her ear and turns away. She says something quickly into it before turning back to me. “Assistance is on the way. They should have been here already. I apologise, Miss Porter. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Oh, I had something before you arrived,” I reply. “But thank you. Do you mind if I… do my thing?”

For the first time, she cracks a tiny smile. “Please, go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

I walk the walk, running my fingers over the curved backs of the chairs and sofa. The velvet cushions feel like magic beneath my fingertips; so soft and dreamy that it can’t possibly be real. As I touch it, grounding myself and my nerves, I scan the room for the best lighting.

“Can you tell me which way is south from here, by any chance?” I ask Sophia.

“Uh, I believe these windows are west facing,” she replies.

“Thank you.” I turn to see two young men approach the doorway.

“This is Aaron and James. They’ll assist you with anything you need moving,” she explains.

“Oh, perfect. Hello.” I give them both my best smile, and one of them drops his gaze.

Well, my charm is one of my best features.

Not that anybody asked me to toot my own horn, but I don’t care.

“Would one of you please move this chair over here?” I tap the chair and quickly skip to the spot I want it. “And the other sit in it?”

“Sit in it, miss?” James—or is it Aaron?—asks.

“Yes. Just so I can get an idea of the lighting,” I explain. “Oh, Sophia, can’t you tell me more information? What kind of portraits am I taking?”

“Formal portraits in full regalia for the Crown Prince’s thirtieth birthday,” a familiar voice says from the doorway. “Sorry about the secrecy.”

I turn at the sound of Crown Prince Finley’s voice, but whatever I was going to say dies on my tongue when I see him.