Page 3 of Commander

“Yes, my queen.” I lower myself to try to grab more of the dress without bending, but the queen gasps.

“Child, what in the name of good fate are you doing?”

I side-eye her. “Lifting my hem.” The long skirt trails both behind me and a bit in front of me. If I’m being honest, I’m terrified I’ll trip and fall on my face. The royals might execute me for embarrassing them.

“You look like you’re readying to bow!” she whisper-yells.

“I realize it might?—”

“You are a crown princess,” she hisses again, her voice rising and making heads turn toward us.

Unaccustomed to this much attention, I blush profusely, feeling like I’m doing everything wrong. “What would you have me do?” I whisper under my breath, knowing she can hear me even as the music picks up, a tune I might have danced to if we were anywhere else.

“A crown princess curtsies, and even then, it’s usually only for those above her station. She never bows.”

That’s the first time she’s lectured me, and I’m grateful for it even if she’s done it in a reproachful way. I know now what not to do, but I’m unsure how I’ll make it to the powder room without lifting my skirts. I shuffle my feet, trying to move the hem away from the front of my shoes. It’s caught on the top of the leather boot. I jerk my leg a few times.

The queen taps my thigh with her folded fan. I feel as if she’s wielding a cane. No doubt she’d like to smack me with one. She gives me a look that slays and shakes her head. The king says something, and she turns her attention back at him.

Happy he distracted her, I sit back down while I survey the room, trying to figure out which way the bathroom is. That’s when I see her.

The Summer princess. With her golden hair and a golden gown that hugs her beautiful body, Fleur glides across the floor, drawing the gazes of males and females alike. Her smile is radiant, her shoulders pulled back confidently, and, unlike me, she looks most comfortable when watched.

If this is what it takes to be accepted into the royal family or high society, I have a long way to go. Social events drain me, and even though I love dancing, I prefer the company of people I’ve known my whole life. She seems to want to meet everyone.

I observe her interactions, how she smiles at everybody and the way she converses with the service staff as she slips something into their pockets. Oooo, I wonder what that is. As I watch her, our eyes meet, and her smile widens.

I look behind me to make sure nobody is sitting there that she could be smiling at. But no. It’s me. Wait, is she making her way over here?

Of course she’s coming here, peasant, my helpful asswipe brain supplies. Where else would she be going? You are sitting at the royal table. Duh. What should I do? Seeking guidance, I glance at the queen, but she’s in a heated argument with the king, their voices rising as the fight escalates.

I’m hoping the argument will deter Fleur from approaching our table, but she hurries along.

Almost here.

We can’t just sit here.

It’s the Summer princess. Shouldn’t we greet her?

I’ve heard so many stories about her. Graceful. Beautiful. Bends males to her will. Something I can’t do, seeing as the prince hasn’t visited my bed at all. In fact, he’s showed very little interest in me, and I have to wonder why he didn’t simply rob someone (the royal treasury, perhaps?) to pay back my brother-in-law. It would be a much less painful path than being tied in a loveless marriage for life.

When she’s only a few steps away from us, I vault out of my chair, causing the chair to fly back and hit someone, who yelps. Oh no. Luckily, the staff member isn’t seriously hurt and nothing breaks, but even so, I apologize and blush profusely before curtsying as low as I can without falling on my face. When Fleur arrives, I notice a golden skull design painted over the pink-and-white polish on her left toe. Interesting.

Also, is she going to keep me in a curtsy pose all night long? Maybe she wants to, but I’ll surely topple over in a few moments.

“Oh, for fate’s sake, girl,” my queen screeches. “You could at least have taught her how to greet another princess.”

She must be talking to the king now.

Fleur says something, but the pounding heartbeats in my ears mute her soft, musical voice. Is she talking to me? I think so. Rising from the curtsy, I apologize for not hearing her. This is so awkward. I am so awkward.

“She’s my husband’s acquisition,” the queen adds, talking about me as if I’m a painting. Or a mule. “He’s so fond of her magic, the next thing you know, I shall have to give her my son’s chair. Best you choose your match wisely and listen to your mother, Fleur. We know best. Oh.” The queen flares out the fan and covers her mouth. “I forgot. Your mother left the court.”

Fleur smiles, and since I’ve watched her smiling as she made her way here, I notice there’s something about the way she does it now that’s not quite as radiant. It feels as if the queen doused some of Fleur’s shine.

“If it were up to my mother,” Fleur says, “I would marry your son, but as you pointed out, I failed at that honor.”

Oh my fates. Well, that explains why the prince barely looks at me. If Fleur failed to bed him, then there’s no hope for me after all. I would think this family would be honored to have a female like Fleur breeding with them.

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