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It really took the entire morning for me to get ready. I couldn’t believe it. And it would have been just like the dress fitting the entire time if I hadn’t asserted myself right away. Maybe other princesses were okay with hordes of maids adding treatments to their bath water and massaging oils and lotions everywhere, but I wasn’t. Far too many people had seen me naked recently for my liking. I accepted the beauty products in the maids’ hands, along with instructions for use, and shut everybody out while I bathed myself. Then I dressed in my undergarments, took a few deep breaths, and opened the door, resigning myself for the rest of the morning to the ministrations of people who seemed to think princesses couldn’t do anything for themselves.
The manicure and pedicure felt nice, even if they were unnecessary, since I’d be wearing gloves and closed-toe shoes.
Theresa hand-feeding me breakfast was extremely uncomfortable, though. I wouldn’t have allowed it if she hadn’t warned me that makeup, hair, and dress were next, and I’d be lucky to get lunch. So, I let her feed me, shooting her a glare every time she purposely missed my mouth and had to wipe it clean. If we’d been alone, I know she would have used baby talk. Fortunately, we weren’t alone, and she knew better in front of others.
And then we all moved in a single wave of bodies to the vanity, where I sat perfectly still while more makeup than I’d ever seen before got applied to my face by multiple hands dodging and weaving in and out of each other. I closed my eyes at somebody’s prompting, certain when I opened them again I’d look like a clown. A moment later, somebody else told me to open my eyes and blink several times, and when I did, I still recognized my face in the mirror. My eyes stood out more, and my cheekbones had more definition, but it was still me. A layer of red lipstick, a lip roll and pucker, and the makeup magicians moved away.
This was getting kind of fun.
Next was my dress, because I wasn’t letting Yves see me in my underwear. One corset and one beautiful green dress later, and I was staring at my reflection in the mirror, stunned all over again. The perfect fit of two days ago was even more perfect after indistinguishable alterations. Soft green silk hugged my waist and clung to my curves, layers of silk and gauze bloomed from my hips, and the central gauze rose over my chest added just the right touch of embellishment and coverage to keep me from feeling uncomfortable about the low-cut neckline. It suddenly hit me that this was really happening. I really was a princess. And I couldn’t wait for Yves to do my hair so I could see the finished product. Silk gloves, silk stockings, high-heels, and I was back in front of the vanity, almost bouncing in my seat for Yves to arrive.
“Ready for me to work my magic?” he asked, strolling into the room.
“Yes, please,” I said eagerly.
“Hm. Stand up and turn around,” he instructed, putting a finger to his chin in thought.
Now that everybody except Theresa had left, I had plenty of room to twirl around. I completed two circles and stopped, catching myself just before I bit my lip out of a nervous habit.
“What’s wrong?”
He smiled and shook his head. “You’re just more beautiful than I expected. Sit down.”
The makeup didn’t hide my blush.
I took my seat, he took my brush, and I watched in fascination as he wove my hair into a series of complicated braids winding from my hairline around to the back of my head, where he wound them around each other in a bun, holding back the rest of my hair from my face to fall loose down my back.
“There,” he said, setting the brush down and holding a hand mirror up for me to see the back. “Now it’s perfect.”
“Thank you, Yves,” I said, turning my head from side to side to see it all. “I don’t know how you did this.”
He shrugged the compliment off, but his smile lit up his bright blue eyes. “It was nothing.”
“I’m afraid to move now,” I said, staring at my reflection.
Theresa laughed and hopped off of the bed, where she’d been sitting and watching us. “So, you don’t want lunch.”
“Is it lunchtime already?” I asked in disbelief.
“Oh, I need to go!” Yves exclaimed, rushing for the door. “The ceremony is a little over an hour. You should probably wait here until then, if you don’t want to deal with everybody. See you at the ball!”
Theresa laughed again and shut the door behind him. “Well, what do you want to do now?” she asked, spinning back to me.
“Not move or breathe,” I replied.
“I bet Chevalier kisses you in front of everybody,” she said, smirking at me in the mirror.
“I made him promise he wouldn’t.”
“You made him promise he wouldn’t ambush you like he did yesterday,” she corrected me, mischief sparkling in her green eyes. I turned on my stool to look at her directly.
“I tell you too much.”
“You don’t tell me enough,” she retorted. “You spent all afternoon kissing and cuddling with him yesterday, and I had to pry that information out of you.”
“Not all afternoon,” I replied, warmth flooding my cheeks. “We read, and talked, and walked through the gardens, too.”
“You know he was showing you off, right?” she asked, dropping onto the sofa.
“What? No. He wasn’t-” I stammered, the warmth turning into blazing heat.
“Well, ‘showing you off’ isn’t quite right,” she interrupted. “More like he was showing everybody how important you are to him, so they wouldn’t give you any trouble today, and it worked. The people who saw you two together have been asking the other servants questions about what he’s normally like with you, you know, trying to see if that was all an act, and more than a few of them are now afraid of saying the wrong thing to you while he’s gone because they don’t want to make him angry. It was all they were talking about in the kitchens this morning.”
“Oh,” I said, thinking back through the events of yesterday afternoon. Chevalier always preferred privacy when we were together, but I hadn’t even wondered why he took me on that long walk through the gardens on a busy day, too absorbed in our conversation to pay attention. He took his time when daylight failed and we came back inside, too. “I didn’t realize…”
“Of course you didn’t. You were in your own little world,” Theresa said, smiling knowingly. “But now you don’t have to worry about anybody being rotten to you.”
The time ticked by far too slowly and far too quickly, depending on my wavering mindset, until it was time to go. I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and stepped out into the hallway, where Julius and Byron were waiting for me.
“You can do this, Ivetta,” Theresa encouraged me.
“Thanks, Theresa.”
“No problem. I’ll see you at the banquet hall.”
The hallways were almost empty. I’d waited until the last possible minute to leave my room, not wanting to run into too many people on the way to the main hall, but now I realized that meant all eyes would be on me the moment I arrived. My stomach was churning well before the enormous crowd came into view. I looked every bit the princess, I reminded myself. Now, I just had to act the part.
“Stay behind me, Princess Ivetta,” Julius said, stepping in front of me.
I nodded, not that he could see it, and kept my chin high as he cleared a path through the mass of bodies for me to follow. An unspoken rule dictated royalty had the best view, closest to the red carpet, and the nobility organized themselves by rank behind them. My place was at the front with the other princes and princesses. That made me even more nervous. The only royalty I knew outside of Rhodolite were Gilbert, Keith, and Silvio, and I wasn’t sure I could count on Gilbert for help. At least he was in the throne room, and if I got a spot close to Keith and Silvio, maybe I could relax just a little.
“Took you long enough to get here.”
I recognized that haughty voice.
“Prince Silvio,” I said, more than a little relieved to see his tall, bejeweled figure on my right. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
He took my offered hand and kissed it, but his smirk and his crass reply didn’t follow the usual protocol. “Knock it off. I don’t need all the fancy crap.”
“Then may I just call you Silvio?” I asked, smiling up at him. He was the same rude, spoiled brat I remembered from the goodwill gala.
“Yeah, sure. That your guard dog?” he asked, his sea-blue eyes shifting to Julius behind me.
“Oh, this is Julius,” I introduced him. He nodded to Silvio but remained silent. “And Byron is around here somewhere. Oh, hello, Prince Keith!” I exclaimed, finding him in the crowd on my left when I was scanning it for Byron. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, having to bow his tall frame quite low just to kiss my hand. “And you can just call me Keith.”
“Thank you,” I said, glad to see his gentle smile and kind golden eyes were the same as I remembered them, too. “And you can both just call me Ivetta. I’m not used to the title yet, anyway.”
A blast of trumpets brought the general murmuring of the crowd to a stop. Everybody looked at the massive throne room doors, two wooden panels reaching all the way to the top of the vaulted ceiling. I held my breath, waiting for those doors to open. The trumpets sounded again, and a pair of guards took hold of the iron rings to pull from the outside. Slowly, slowly, the heavy doors opened, and another pair of guards pushing from the inside came into view. A pair of buglers emerged next, playing their instruments, and behind them, Sariel, the red carpet, and the throne room came into view, filled with faces I recognized and faces I didn’t. At the very end of it, sitting on the throne, was Chevalier.
The trumpeting stopped, but I didn’t hear a word Sariel read from the scroll in his hand.
Chevalier had always exuded majesty and dignity, but seeing him on the throne in full royal regalia amplified that to such a degree that I felt like I barely knew him. The scene could have graced a masterful portrait. His black and dark blue clothing stood out against the tans of the marble floor and pillars, decorated with rich red tapestries and accented with gold, and the golden rose crest of Rhodolite emblazoning the tapestry behind the throne and directly over his head led the eye down to the gold crown atop his pale blonde hair. He wore no gloves, resting his bare hands comfortably on the golden arms of the throne, sitting straight and tall against the red cushions and still maintaining the appearance of complete relaxation and belonging.
He belonged there, as much as a bird belonged in the sky or a fish belonged in the water.
Sariel’s sonorous voice stopped, and Chevalier stood up, striding down the red carpet at his usual pace and making his dark blue coat flare out behind him. The closer he came, the more detail I could see. His shoes, pants, shirt, and vest were all black and nondescript, save for the occasional gold trim or fastening, but that knee-length coat was breathtaking. Gold trimmed its ivory lapels and cuffs, with more gold embroidery depicting stars, roses, and other floral designs scattered across the midnight blue fabric, and mounted over each shoulder was a sky blue crystal. The crown, too, was spectacular, with a single star at the top of its central point, a wreath of intertwined stars and roses engraved in the front, and more engravings of stars winding their way around its circumference. He wore no sword, but he radiated power regardless.
Everybody was cheering around me. I couldn’t breathe. He was the king, and I didn’t belong with him. I shouldn’t even be here.
But then I realized his cool blue eyes were on me as he neared my position, and, just for a moment, his austere expression softened into a brief smile, with a warmth in his crystal blue eyes that I knew so well. I smiled, too, and nodded in recognition. He passed me by, the smile vanishing from his face as it flattened into its usual impassive, inscrutable state, and I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared from view into the courtyard, followed by his brothers, Sariel and the rest of the court ministers, and the elite royal guard.
Now, for my real test.
