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When I first saw my name in today’s headlines, I braced myself for the worst, especially when I caught my first glimpse of the photograph. But the longer I studied it, the more shocked I was by the deceptively romantic image it depicted. With how I’m angled slightly away from the photographer, I don’t look as shocked or terrified as I was in the moment. Instead, the focus is on Albert, on his lips hovering an inch from my hand, his gaze locked on mine as he watches me from under his lashes. To anyone who didn’t know better, he appears enchanted with me. And from the way I stand frozen, my lips slightly parted, I look charmed.
This is the first time a photograph has served me well with its ability to steal a moment devoid of context and twist it into a lie. Perhaps I’ll clear my name after all.
That is, if Albert ever shows.
I extract a pocket watch from inside my blue silk purse. It’s still ten minutes to eight, so I can’t consider Albert late yet. I return the pocket watch to my purse, straighten my gloves, brush out my skirt, and do anything that distracts me from the fact that I’m about to have dinner with my future husband. I haven’t been on a date with a man since before everything that happened with Prince Cobalt. Not that tonight’s date is a real one. It’s an act. Pretend.
With a man I will soon be married to.
I shove that thought from my mind and focus on what’s most important—that tonight is my first chance to show off one of my designs. It’s an evening gown with sapphire blue velvet on the bodice, bustle, and overskirt. My underskirt is a pale blue floral-patterned silk draped in tiered layers and pinned with white rosettes. I’ve paired the dress with all the trappings meant to evoke human propriety, both seen and unseen—corset, silk hose, dinner gloves—as well as an updo that already has my scalp aching.
I’m not normally a fan of wearing my hair up, nor do I tend to favor so many layers of clothing. Instead, I prefer to wear my hair down and don attire in the light, flowing fae style, or even the more simplistic human skirts and blouses. But if my plan is to work, I must wear my designs myself and show them off in all their stunning glory.
Just when I’m about to check the time again, a sleek black coach-and-four approaches where I stand outside the hotel. Night has fully fallen, so I can’t make out who sits behind the glass windows, but as it stops before me, I’m certain it’s Albert. Relief and dread fill me at once.
A footman descends from the rear of the coach to open the door for me. With a deep breath that does nothing to lessen the quickening of my pulse, I enter the coach. The prince sits on the rear seat, so I take the bench across from him, arranging the heavy folds of my skirt before I force myself to look at him. If he appears even slightly inebriated—
I’m momentarily stunned as I take in the man across from me. I almost don’t recognize the prince, with his black frock coat over a white waistcoat, shirt, and tie, all done up properly without a single button out of place. In one gloved hand, he holds a black gentleman’s cane, while his golden hair is partially obscured by a top hat. The only thing that gives him away as the same insufferable man I spoke to last night is his crooked grin embedded between those mocking dimples.
“You look rather lovely, Miss Fairfield,” Albert says, looking me over.
I open my mouth, but instead of accepting the compliment, I avert my gaze out the window. The coach has begun to move, giving me a receding view of my hotel, followed by a glimpse of rolling hills in the distance. They’re nothing but black silhouettes against the night sky now, but during the day, the city of Jasper is gorgeous. Nestled in a valley between the lush mountains the Earthen Court is famous for, Jasper has become one of the most popular human cities on the isle. It isn’t a large city, though, so it won’t be long until we reach our destination. Which means I must say what I’ve been planning to all day.
“Prince Albert,” I say, forcing my attention back to him, “we need to establish ground rules.”
He leans back in his seat, losing some of his sophisticated composure, and props an ankle over his knee. “I thought we did so last night?”
“I mean for the entirety of our marriage. There are certain things I want to make clear before we take this arrangement of ours one step further.”
“Very well. What are these ground rules?”
I hold his gaze, trying my best not to be put off by his ceaseless grin, and deliver my first rule. “For starters, we will only be married in name. We will not consummate our marriage. We will own property together, but we will spend much of our time apart.”
“Did I truly make such a poor impression on you?” he says with a chuckle.
“Never lie to me,” I say, ignoring his question. “You may keep your private doings to yourself. No need to keep me apprised of every last thing you do, but if I ask, be honest. That’s my one steadfast rule. No lies. The rest of what I said last night applies to our marriage. Keep any unsavory behavior away from the public eye, but do maintain an image of marital bliss before society. Do nothing that compromises my reputation. Do you agree?”
His smile slips into a frown, his brow knitting into a furrow. “Is there no part of you that wants a true marriage?”
“No,” I say, wrenching my gaze back to the window. Mountainous silhouettes have been replaced by the tightly clustered buildings and storefronts of downtown Jasper. “Our marriage is a political union. It would be foolish to expect more than that. Foreitherof us to expect more.”
“Have you never heard of an arranged marriage that resulted in love?”
I want to deny it…but I can’t. My sister’s marriage is a true love match, and that love was born from a political arrangement. Then again, I was the one who was originally paired with her husband. My treachery brought them together. In a way, I can’t regret that. Evie has reminded me of that fact on several occasions. Probably just to lessen my guilt.
In lieu of a true answer, I say, “My career is the most important thing to me.”
“Ah. You’re a fashion designer, correct?”
“Yes, and I can’t let you do anything that compromises that. Right now, my priority is growing my career in the human market. I can’t do that if I’m depicted as a woman married to a drunken debaucher. You, being a human prince, should understand the importance of image, virtue, and reputation when it comes to gaining other humans’ respect.”
“I am sorry, Amelie.” His somber tone paired with the sound of my name on his lips has my eyes returning to him. “Truly, I am. I never meant to cause you or your career harm.”
My heart thuds under the weight of his gaze. There’s genuine apology in his eyes. His voice. His bearing. It’s…it’s too real.
“Everything we do is fake,” I say in a rush. “Understand that. Whatever we do in public…none of that shall happen between us behind closed doors.”
He assesses me through slitted lids, as if he’s trying to read between my words. I keep my expression neutral, posture steady, so he’ll realize there’s nothing to decipher. Nothing hidden behind my efforts to keep him at arm’s length.
