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“You’re going to have to wear a heck of a lot more formal clothes than this,” she’d said, holding up a pair of matching heels.
Once I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, I had to admit that I looked damn good in the dress.
The second I was down the stairs, however, the sadness returned.
How the hell was I supposed to stay if I was pregnant? In a few months I’d start showing. What kind of excuse would I give my father? The more I thought about it, the more unreasonable it seemed to stay. After all, Mom had fled Edoria to raise me alone in Seattle, no reason I couldn’t do the same.
I took a moment to compose myself before entering the dining room. I’d bumped into my father earlier in the day, and he’d assured me that he’d be present that night. Maybe Luc had said something to him.
When I was ready, I stepped into the dining room.
“You’re late.”
My father was there, alright, his eyes on the glass of wine in his hand. He sipped slowly, not bothering to look at me.
“Sorry. Took me a minute to change for dinner.”
He looked up, setting down his wine as he glanced in my direction. His expression became one of surprise, the mention of me dressing for dinner seeming to capture his attention.
“Come closer.”
He gave me a quick once over before turning his attention back to the glass.
“Better. Far more in line with what’s expected of you as a princess.” He shook his head. “Make no mistake, the Princess of Edoria cavorting around in jeans and T-shirts with the sleeves ripped off is completely undignified. Next, we’ll have to do something about that hair and nosething.”
“Sure, then we can schedule my lobotomy afterward.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get cute. There’s more at stake than your fashion preferences, Ava.”
I opened my mouth to speak but quickly closed it. Frustrated as I was, the man seated at the tablewasmy father and the king. If I was going to give Edoria an honest shot for the next two weeks, that included him.
I slid into the chair, the sadness that had been gripping me since that morning not letting up. The staff brought the meals, setting the dishes in front of us. I made sure to thank them, though food was the last thing on my mind.
He didn’t say a word to me as we ate. For the first time, I was glad that he preferred to eat in silence.
About halfway through the meal, my father paused. He looked up from his meal, regarding me with an expression of curiosity.
“Yes?” I asked.
He gestured toward me. “You’re doing better.”
“Huh? Doing better how?”
He formed his mouth into a thin line. “Let’s set aside for the moment that a princess never says ‘huh’.What I mean is your bearing.”
“You’re going to have to be a little clearer than that.”
“The way you’re carrying yourself. You’re quiet, demure, composed.” He kept his eyes on me, nodding slowly in approval. “You’re so much less brash and difficult than you tend to be. Have you been putting forth more effort in your lessons with Giselle and Oscar?”
My demure bearing was nothing more than me being sad. He’d mistaken me being too upset to speak as me having learned how to be a proper princess. At the realization of that I managed to become somehow even more upset.
This is what he wants from me. He doesn’t want my personality or anything that makes me, me.He wants a docile little girl who will sit in some stupid puffy dress and not say a word unless spoken to.
My father clasped his hands together, a smile appearing on his face for the first time.
“This is wonderful. I’d been so worried that you’d be a disaster at the ball and your naming ceremony. Make no mistake, you’ve got plenty more work to do. At the very least, however, this is a step in the right direction.” He gave a crisp, satisfied nod.
With that, he went into his plans for the next couple of weeks for me—plans that led up to the ball and the ceremony. I tuned out completely. The more he spoke, the more I couldn’t help but feel like I was fading into the background of my own life.
