Page 67 of Heir of the Beast

My glossy hair is plaited and hanging down my back like a fairy princess.

“Pierce says your silence is all he needs.” Mort stands and smiles. “This should be interesting. All I’m missing is popcorn.”

***

I am about to be announced. Everyone will finally see the lost princess revealed and I’m all nerves—my palms are sweaty. I think I need to be featured in ~Eight Mile~, like a remake.

I take a shaky breath when I see the King~, my father~, ready to escort me down the grand staircase. He comes to me and takes my hand, tears in his eyes.

“You look just like your mother,” he says in a gruff accent. The King is a handsome man, but a bit on the rough side.

He is decked out in his golden finery, and his gray hair is combed back perfectly to fit his ruby crown. His eyes are kind that crinkle on the sides when he smiles.

“Thank you, your highness.” I curtsey, trying not to fall over.

“Ursula, my darling, please call me father.” His large hands grip mine again, eyes round with emotion.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

Don’t cry.

Don’t.

“Of course~, Father.”~ I smile up at him, and he laughs.

“Good girl!” He puts my arm in his and leads me to the entrance. “Now, let everyone see my lovely daughter who has come back to me!”

My heart jumps as I hear someone announcing my arrival to a crowded ballroom. My first thought is of Apollo. He would be on the hand of Laura, the happy couple.

I try to shove my jealousy down, and it tastes like acid in my mouth. She still has time to win him over, and he might not care that her mother cheated if he loves her.

I feel sick.

My father leans into my ear.

“Apollo’s cousin, Tarren Somon of Garthorn, will escort you to the ballroom. A fine fellow. Owns three large estates in the west region. Your mother and I spent our honeymoon at West Lyth Falls.”

His eyes glitter with pride, and we walk. I glance at him and smile. Matchmaking already? But I only have a month and a half! And there is this guy named Apollo that I have to get over…

We enter at the top of the stairs, and the once-buzzing ballroom quiets. You could hear a pin drop—and my rapid breathing.

“Do not be nervous,” he whispers, and pats my arm like a good father.

I nod and begin my descent with him, one marble step at a time. There are a lot more people here than I thought.

My gown sparkles even more in the dim ballroom, making me want to pinch myself quickly to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Everything is so romantic—like straight out of a children’s fairy tale.

It’s then I see the Garthorn royal family lined up at the bottom of the stairs to greet me in honor of their alliance. Everyone is looking up at me in awe, smiles on their faces, except for one.

My heart dips.

Apollo is absolutely striking, as always.

I glance at him for only a moment, but I take everything in like a starved animal.

He is in black and white, crisp and elegant. His black pants hug his thighs, and his black dress coat is stretched tautly over his muscular torso.

He has some sort of shiny armor on under that intensifies his superhero appeal. The stark white necktie contrasts with his bronzed skin, and his cupid hair is tied back.

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