Page 11 of Desperately Yours

“What of it?” Fake courage urged me on. “What if she is my choice?”

Anger kindled to rage in her eyes. “I told you the consequences of that choice. I trusted you not to make it. But now you’ve forced my hand.” She spun, headed for the door. “I’ll dispatch the guards immediately to apprehend her.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” I skirted the couch, headed to intercept her. “Your threats are only that, Mother. Empty, hollow words with no ground to stand on.”

She whirled back to face me, skirts swishing under the momentum. “You can’t imagine what I am capable of, Son.”

“Oh, I can. I really can.” I held up a finger to pause her thoughts. “But tell me, as the word circulated through the staff tonight, did you hear any words of distress? Any cry for the noble blood she’s missing? Anyone worried that she isn’t Nolcovian by birth?”

Bluffing was never my strong point. It never looked good on me. Sweaty palms, racing heart, I felt closer to a heart attack than winning a bet. But as her face faltered, my confidence surged. There was no outcry against Michaela.

“I dare you to harm her, Mother. I dare you to say one negative word within earshot of one of our citizens. Because what you never expected, what you never saw coming,” I couldn’t help but smile a little as I realized I still held the upper hand, “is Nolcovians adore her. And so do I. She has more support than you ever thought possible. And if you come down harshly, their opinion of you will plummet.”

Her jaw tightened, clearly distressed by the thought. “I may take the chance anyway.”

“No,” I asserted, “you won’t.”

Sensing her loss in this battle, she ripped the door open and exited like a child who’d lost a toy. My palm rubbed over my mouth, surprised by my willingness to stand up to her and also still exhilarated by my stolen moments with Michaela.

I did adore her, and at least she had an idea of how deep my feelings went. I could tell her the rest next time. After the banquet tomorrow night perhaps. Father would be in attendance and spending the evening with Michaela wouldchange his mind about her, I was sure of it. It would all work out tomorrow. I only had to wait one more day.

Happily ever after waited just within my reach.

Michaela

“Why 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 getready?”

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 ourrooms. 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.

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