Page 2 of Gilded Princess

Not yet.

Chapter One

MADDIE

“I can’t believe you’re ditching me again, Mary. You agreed to go with me.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that my sister, who prefers books to humans, is abandoning me during event season, but I am.

She sighs, the noise loud in my ear as I squeeze the phone in my hand and press it against my face to hear her over the busy streets of New York City. “Don’t be so dramatic, Maddie. You’ll be fine. I don’t even know why you asked me. You know I hate those things. Besides, they only ever invite me because of you anyway.”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. I shove my irritation down to the bottom of my stomach and exhale a calming breath. “You know that’s not true. Clara Vanderbilt and Isobel Chambers specifically invited you to the masquerade ball.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going. Why don’t you ask Lainey like you usually do?”

The scorn in her voice has me fumbling over my thoughts for a moment. I shove the concerning reason behind my cousin Lainey’s impromptu cabin visit down deep and bury it alongside all the other things Mom said are wrinkle-inducing. It’s easier for me to ignore it now that we don’t have honest-to-god bodyguards following us around anymore. It only lasted for a few days, and I know it was more for Lainey’s peace of mind than anything, but it was strange.

My cousin Lainey is more like a sister than an extended family member. Sometimes she’s closer to me than my actual sister. I like to think of her as the perfect balance between me and my twin, Mary.

Lainey’s mom, Lana, and my mom are twins too—apparently it runs in the family. But outside of their looks, they’re not that similar. It’s kind of how I feel about Mary and me. Even though we’re fraternal twins, when we were younger, we’d dress alike and it was hard to tell us apart.

These days, Mary and I couldn’t be more different.

Where I wear my dark-red hair long and in waves, she cut hers short into a long bob and religiously straightens it. Mascara and lip gloss are about all she wears—not that she needs makeup. She’s gorgeous, and sometimes, I think she’s the only one who doesn’t realize it.

You’re more likely to find her in cardigans and sneakers than dressed up in a gown fit for a ball. I don’t know why I’m surprised that she’s backing out of this event.

I clear my throat to get myself back into the conversation, looking both ways before I cross the street. “You know why. Lainey’s recovering—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tucked away at some cabin with a bunch of dudes, I know. I guess she should think about the company she keeps, huh? Maybe she won’t end up in those shitty situations then.”

I stop in the middle of the busy sidewalk, the flow of people swerving to move around me. “What the hell, Mary! I cannot believe you said that.”

My sister scoffs. “What? It’s true. Anyway, I’m not going to your stupid gala. So I guess you should find some other friends.” She mock-gasps. “Think of what they’ll say if you go solo?”

My jaw drops at her cruelty, and I clear my throat, swallowing down the emotion. “Wow. Are you going for a record of below-the-belt hits today, sister? Because I gotta say, you’re hitting your marks.”

She knows damn well how I feel about stuff like that. I don’t have a problem with being alone, but who wants to go solo to those kinds of events? It’s like daring someone to jump into shark-infested waters wearing Lady Gaga’s 2010 award show dress—you know, the one made up of raw meat.

You need a buffer to these sorts of things—a plus one.

With a mother who offered to buy me a boob job, a nose job, and lip fillers for my twelfth birthday, is it any wonder why I have these sorts of thoughts?

If you’re told most of your life that your only value is your appearance, after so long, you start to accept it as gospel.

She sighs, the exhale long and somehow sounding irritated. “Whatever. Sorry. I have plans, okay?”

My ears prick at the change in her tone. “What kind of plans?”

“None of your business.”

I can just picture her folding her arm tight across her chest and shifting her weight. It’s her tell when she’s hiding something.

I gather my hair and twist it over my shoulder to let the hot summer breeze roll over my neck as the proverbial lightbulb goes off. “Oh my god. You have plans with a guy! You sneaky little—”

“Just drop it, Maddie. It’s probably nothing, okay? And anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”

I pause, sorting through my initial hurt. Her unwillingness to share picks at my decades-old insecurities and wounds. I know it’s more to do with her than with me, but it still takes me a moment to wrap my mind around it.

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