Page 173 of Resurgent

I know I don’t look like myself, but the compliment still makes me feel good, and I can feel my cheeks pinken.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

I’m not sure who gawks more during my ride to the castle, the people lining the sidewalks to see the party guests arrive, or me. Despite not having the faintest idea who I am, most of the crowd still cheers and waves, and I find myself playing along and waving in return.

I’m calm and collected until we make the final ascent to the castle.

The road curves upward, the castle rising higher with every turn, and my composure fractures. I take in slow, measured breaths, keeping my face neutral enough that my driver will see excitement, not fear, as I work to calm my racing heart.

“You are okay. I can see you.”

“Tyr, what do you mean you can see me?” I look around me slowly, smile fixed as I panic internally, scanning the sky for him. “You are supposed to be far away from here. Safe and waiting.”

“I'm safe, Little Faren. Don't forget, you're the one walking into the enemy’s home. I am right where I need to be, and no one can see me.”

After waiting in the drop-off line for just a few minutes, the coachman is out, hand extended once more as I try to gracefully step out of the carriage and down the narrow wooden steps.

“Good luck, my lady. Should you not need a ride home, just let the staff know, and they will inform me. If not, I will be here whenever you are ready to leave.”

I guess maybe nobles are a bit more like common people than I imagined. Go to a party, find a hookup for the night, and the biggest question is, ‘Your place or mine?’

My high heels clack across the pristine white floors as so many cameras flash that I’m temporarily blinded.

When I make it through the paparazzi and my vision clears, a man around my age checks my invitation before guiding me to stand in a line of women waiting by a closed set of double doors.

I’m about to ask what we’re waiting for when the doors open and the escort for the first woman in line announces her name, and she gracefully makes her way down the stairs to the awaiting crowd. From what I can tell, the crowd is a mix of married couples and single men.

Based on their rapt attention on the incoming women, I would bet that the royal family waits to make their grand entrance once their guests have arrived.

“I feel like a pig waiting for slaughter,” I tell Tyr.

“You sure you want to keep Hunter? There is about to be a room full of noblemen fighting for your attention,” he jokes.

“I’m here to kill their prince and get home to the man I love. Noble socialites aren’t really my type.”

“Lady Sophie Beaumont of Wickenburg.” My escort's voice pulls me from my conversation, and I begin my mantra as I descend the rounded staircase.

Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip.

A chuckle and some whisperings try to distract me, but despite looking out to the crowd, my attention is solely focused on each step I take.

When I finally reach the bottom of the steps, a burly man in a tux offers me his arm. I’ve seen someone do this for every woman that has come down, seemingly customary to take each woman to get a drink as soon as her feet leave the last step.

We make small talk as we wait for all of the other single ladies to join us.

Warren is the second son of a prominent family on the southern border of Clowess. Almost everything either of us says, he somehow circles back to his mother. Her favorite things. Her opinions. Her incomparable cooking.

Eventually, I stop listening and talk with Tyr. I watch for conversation cues, so I know when to smile or give a “That’s so sweet,” or “Wow. How lucky you are.”

Silently, I say a small prayer for the woman who eventually marries Warren, because she won’t just be taking a husband, she’ll be facing a lifetime of comparisons.

After what feels like a lifetime, trumpets sound, announcing the Royal Family’s arrival. I try to get a glimpse of my target and his bride, but despite the extra inches I gained when I morphed, I seem to be surrounded by the tallest people of Clowess, leaving no hope. Guess I’ll be looking for the gleaming crown or the pregnant wife-to-be.

The room goes silent, and I’m surprised when it’s not the king, but the queen steps forward to give a speech. The people in front of me shift slightly, and I’m able to set eyes on the enemy kingdom's queen.

She radiates a formidable strength, even through her mask, but there is the softness of a mother's love when she speaks.