4. Chapter 4
Michaela
“ W hy won’t you allow me to fashion your hair, m’lady?” Dahlia pouted, her bottom lip jutted out in a display that rivaled the best two-year-old tantrum. The memory of her offering me a pixie cut on our initial encounter tugged at my thoughts, but I couldn’t find the courage to remind her. While she meant well, her impulsive thoughts had a history of winning.
“Because I need you to finish steaming my gown.” I nodded where my dress hung from the hook on the armoire. “That bit on the bodice is tricky. Can you handle it?”
“Of course.” She brightened and left my side. “Since you don’t need me, once I’m done with the dress, may I go help Sadie get ready?”
I didn’t answer at first, not wanting to sound too eager. “That’s a kind thought.” I turned away from the vanity mirror. “You know what, how about you go over there now? I’ll be fine here.”
She held the steamer in her hand and paused, thinking over her decision. She was supposed to stay with me, but I hadn’t missed the way her loyalties rested with Sadie. She glanced at the dress again, then frowned. “If you’re certain.”
No question in my mind, but I pretended to think about it. “Somehow I’ll manage.”
She bobbed twice, like two mini-curtsies. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Helping Sadie makes me feel like I’m a part of history.” She clapped her hands together. “To think, one day, I will be able to tell my children I waited on the queen before she was crowned.” Only the slightest hesitation flickered in her expression as she realized her misstep. “Either way, I mean. I suppose it could very well be you too.” Unable to pull herself out of the hole she’d dug, she curtsied once more and fled.
The door shut behind her and I finally had space to breathe again. Most people had written me off early. For a while, I felt like I had too, but I don’t know, something about staring death in the face while buried alive, it makes a girl find her get up and fight.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I’d been in situations like this countless times, my heart pounding, my palms sweaty, as I prepared to confront judges who already had biased opinions about me, their eyes filled with skepticism. But facing the queen felt like standing in front of a firing squad of beauty pageant judges.
“Time to make some magic,” I whispered to myself.
I smoothed my gloved hand over the mint bodice. The diagonal pleating laid perfectly flat and plaited across my waist. Last year, I hand fastened over three hundred jewels to the fabric in a radiating pattern. Originally, I made the dress on commission for my coworker’s daughter. She wanted a prom dress that would stop everyone in their tracks, but when the time came to pay up, she decided the little strapless number at the mall was more her speed. At the time, I was devastated. After all, I was counting on that money for basic needs, but if I had known back then where I was destined to wear the dress, I might have hugged the indecisive teen.
With elbow-length gloves, I had a hard time putting my charm bracelet back on, but no way was I leaving it in my room. It proved I was still supposed to be here. Not that I was worried.
Maybe a little worried.
Despite his promises, I still didn’t see a path for us. Fitz assumed I wanted to become queen. I definitely wanted him. I could even handle thinking about marriage if we needed to, but asking me to uproot my life? My nationality? It wasn’t as easy as he wanted to believe. If we had more time, I knew we would figure it out, but his father continued to deteriorate. Not to mention, Fitz had changed his mind about me before. It all left me a little insecure about my future.
I pressed my lips together and slid them back and forth, stare fixated on the bookcase that led to the tunnel between our rooms. I tried the tunnel this morning, but his side wouldn’t open.
Locked, for the first time since I arrived.
Okay, I was insecure and/or freaking out.
It was a moment-to-moment thing.
Rationally, I knew I was important to him, and I had no doubt that his mother was building roadblocks on every side. Falling to my near death hadn’t erased the memory of her messing with the dance where Fitz fought to choose me in the end. Her determination to keep him away from me knew no bounds.
But he was the prince, wasn’t he? Why hadn’t he—
A knock on my chamber door brought me back to the present. Earlier Dahlia mentioned something about an escort who would lead me to the banquet. I assumed it would be Kabir, since he escorted me to that dreadful interview last night. But as I pulled back the door, the universe proved me wrong.
Bishop leaned against the doorway, fiddling with his cufflinks. “I can’t ever get these dangdable things to sit right. Blast !” He blew out his breath and stretched his arm toward me. “This must be why men agree to marriage. Though, I feel a valet would cost less in the way of freedom and monetary expenses.”
“Hello to you too, Bishop.” I set to work on his cuff, straightening the fabric beneath his tux jacket so it would lay right. He aided my escape the night before but said nothing to me through our hurried rush. I chalked it up to nerves, but no way was I letting him forget his manners again. “Yes, I’m doing well. Thanks for asking. It was a hard recovery, but I think I’m on the other side of it. Of course, I’d love to help you with your cuffs.”
He scoffed. “Someone sure feels saucy, doesn’t she? Last night wasn’t humbling enough?” He switched wrists and I assumed that meant I needed to fix the other one as well. I rolled my eyes but did as he hadn’t actually asked. “Mind the edges, I don’t like the feel of it on my skin.”
“Aren’t you a ninny,” I teased as I finished. To finish the job, I adjusted his bowtie next, making sure it was straight and full. “Can’t have you disappointing the crown now, can we?”
“Disappointing is old hat for me, darling. Been at it since the womb. Parents, crown, and country to boot.” He stretched his arms on either side to test my work and nodded once to show his approval. “Right then, we should get you to the…” His eyes met mine for the first time, and all his bravado blew away like feathers in the wind. “Well, well, aren’t you a vision? Come then, let me have a proper look at you.”
Though we hadn’t known each other long, I’d grown used to his games. None of the flirting was real. All a trick to make me feel confident, and blah, blah, blah. Bishop couldn’t function without an endgame. But I also knew he wouldn’t let up until I played along. I took a step backward and turned in the full ball gown, giving him a view of each side.
His gaze never wavered. “Tell me,” he set the length of his finger against his mouth as if he was stuck in deep thought, “where has this been?”
I looked down at the dress with a frown. “Well, it’s a little dressy for a choosing ceremony, and I definitely couldn’t wear it to the hospital, but I thought it would be more appropriate for a banquet—”
“No,” that same finger popped up to stop me, “I don’t mean the dress.” He motioned to my whole figure. “I mean this woman. Where has she been? Because from where I’m standing, she’s… what’s that American phrase?” It came to him immediately. “Not here to play?”
“Something like that.” I retrieved the charm bracelet from where I’d left it on the bed. “Do you mind?”
He weighed his answer. “A little. After all, the way you look, I’m second-guessing my devotion to the future king and considering sweeping the love of his life off her feet to run away with me.” He laughed to himself and pushed away from the doorway, covering the space between us. “But then, saying it aloud, I remember I have resounding and unrelenting issues with the whole franchise of marriage, so keep you he may.”
“You’re basically a saint,” I teased. Bishop made quick work of the bracelet, but hesitated as his finger bumped the piece of wire Fitz had fastened to the chain as a charm. The air grew heavy as silence slipped between us. “It’s a shame, really. I know you saw a clip yesterday, but in reality, you’ll never know… You’ll never see how he…” Bishop struggled to get the words right. The muscles in his jaw flinched as he fought back his own emotional response. “The depths of the emotion he felt when the earth swallowed you whole, it was… For all of us who cared about you, it was devastating. But Leo, he became a shell, a haunted creature without…”
I pulled my hand away, uncomfortable remembering what I’d gone through. Knowing the torturous trauma Fitz endured from his side didn’t make it any easier to process. “I’m safe now, Bishop. That’s what matters.”
He cleared his throat and nodded quickly. “I only said something because I know he didn’t come see you right away, and if I were an emotional woman prone to bouts of neediness and hysteria, I might worry that his feelings were not as sincere.”
I almost smacked him. “I’m not an emotional woman prone to—”
Bishop groaned and turned for the door. “All women are. That’s why I handle them in short and often anonymous situations. Less mess. Less drama.”
“You have issues.”
“Oh, darling Michaela,” he offered me his arm, “you have no idea. My issues have pet issues at this point. They’re multiplying like rabbits. I’m positively hopeless.”
I slipped my arm through the crook of his and let him lead me from the room. We closed the door behind us and started toward the main banquet room. “Are you sure I look okay? I’m not overdressed?”
Bishop’s snicker left me uneasy. “You’re definitely overdressed, but I think it’s rather smashing. I can’t wait to see the queen’s face. Your dress is so much better than hers.
My steps turned hesitant. “Bishop, the last thing I want to do is upstage Fitz’s mother. I need her to like me, not secretly want to poison me or something.”
“She wouldn’t poison you.” Within five steps, he amended it. “She has minions for that kind of work.”
“Bishop!” My plea for mercy came too late. The hall emptied into a gallery that was only fenced in by one railing, leaving us on display to everyone below. No turning back.
“That’s enough of that. Head high. You own his heart, that’s all that matters.” He nodded at the staircase waiting fifteen feet away. “I’ll go ahead of you. The cameras want a shot of you coming down the stairs all regal and posh. Do try, would you? Last thing we need is you tumbling heels over nickers down the lot of it for the entire country to see.”
I wanted to protest, but that definitely sounded like something I would do.
“Leonidas will be waiting at the base of the stairs. He’s meant to escort each of you to the table, but since you are the last to arrive, you’ll walk into the banquet together.” He shot me a quick look, rather pleased with himself. “You’re welcome for that.”
I took that to mean he’d pulled some strings on our behalf. Instead of thanking him, I glanced over the railing to the people waiting below. I couldn’t spot Fitz, but I’d come to recognize the crew members who recorded Royally Yours . At least three cameras were set up and filming, red lights blinking away. My nerves surged to life in my chest, but I learned years ago I had two choices when anxiety threatened to ruin everything. I could put it to work or let it prevail and turn me into a wreck. Stress was a sign the body was preparing for something important. It was to be used, not feared.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“Who all is at this banquet? I thought it was supposed to be small.”
“Yes, well, when the queen gets a thought in her head, there’s not much to be done.” He slowed our pace to stretch out the last moments before the stairway. “The king and queen will be in attendance, of course, and your beloved Fitz .” He laughed under his breath as though the name was too ridiculous. “And the other two queen-to-be-wannabes who think they’re still competition, plus one rather nosy newspaper reporter who made the list last minute. Oh, and me. I was saving the best for last.”
“Wait, what?” My calm shattered. Reporter? Another one?
“You’re surprised I’m coming?” His free hand flattened against his chest. “I’m hurt. After all we’ve been through—”
“The reporter, you dolt,” I hissed through my teeth. “Why is there a reporter? I did the interview last night. I thought I was done.”
We made it to the top of the staircase. End of the line. Bishop unhooked our arms, placed his hands on my shoulders, and stared into my eyes. “You were underground, so you have no way of knowing this, but the whole country saw the way he reacted when you fell. That video last night was old news. It and seven other personal videos were leaked within the first six hours after your rescue. They saw him dive headfirst into that hole, trying to save you. Rumors circulated around the kingdom about his reaction to your supposed death. If that wasn’t enough, the leaked footage has you calling the Crown Prince of Nolcovia Fitz . There were bound to be questions, bound to be repercussions, my dear.”
I couldn’t speak at first, too stunned by the turn of events. “But what can I say? How do I… Why would…” With every fiber of my being, I wanted to scurry back to the safety of my room and hide.
Bishop brightened. “Come then, turn on that pageant charm. It’s just another interview. When all else fails… world peace, right?” He winked, released my shoulders, and jogged down the stairs as if he were late for a train. Meanwhile, my tongue felt four sizes too big for my mouth. I was going to screw this up somehow.
Yes, I excelled at the interview portion of pageants. But that was because I practiced, I didn’t have to lie, and I never worried I might give away a guarded secret that could lead to the downfall of an entire country. In a pageant, the questions dealt with foreign policies and controversial social issues, not a decade-old friendship that wasn’t supposed to exist.
After last night, I knew in this arena no matter of prepping could save me.
I paused at the top of the stairs and drew in a deep breath. Just as I made the choice to run, Fitz moved to stand at the base of the stairs. Our eyes met. My heart practically burst in my chest. Memories of last night flooded my mind. I swear, he almost said I love you. Excitement radiated from his eyes. His body shifted from one foot to the other, as if it took all of his willpower not to sprint up the stairs to get to me.
He wanted me here.
Nothing else mattered.
Prepping couldn’t save me, but Fitz could.
“Lady Michaela Caldwell, California Province, United States of America.” The booming voice announced my entrance as I took my first steps. California was hardly a province, but to Nolcovia, it fit. Fitz’s Adam’s apple bobbed once as I drew closer. The cameraman ascended the stairs, searching for the perfect shot. My eyes stayed locked on Fitz. That was all that mattered.
He was all that mattered.
After all, I’d come to Nolcovia for him in the first place.
Half the winding staircase remained, and I ached to be close to him. Only days remained before he was expected to make his choice about the crown. Now, more than ever, I wondered who he would pick. Sadie was one of the people. Esmerey was noble and understood the intricacies of the crown.
And then there was the wild card American who wasn’t Nolcovian and didn’t understand royal politics, but I did understand Fitz.
That had to be worth something.
As each descending step took me closer, I swore I could see it in his eyes. I wasn’t perfect, but I was his.
Whispers broke out on the floor below us. I felt like Cinderella entering the ball. The moment when everyone hated her for finally looking good. I wonder if she enjoyed their spite as much as I did.
For once I was the sophisticated one. I was elegant. Perfectly poised in the center spotlight. In fact, I was— falling.
My foot slipped on the step and gravity took over, dropping me right on my rear halfway down the staircase on live television.
Yeah, that felt on par for my brand.
Even worse, Bishop had called it.