Just the thought of spending my day tomorrow in the grand halls of the National Assembly, surrounded by stuffy old men in powdered white wigs, trying to keep my eyes open as they drone on about amendments and addendums, is painful enough to make me consider abdicating my crown.
“I think we should go to the auction,” Chloe announces decidedly. “I already asked the staff to bring some dress options by later tonight. We can try them all on, do a full fashion montage like we’re in a cheesy romantic comedy. Maybe put on some girly music and sing pop ballads into our hairbrushes, for the full effect… Doesn’t that sound fun? In a lame, sober, preteen girl kind of way, I’ll grant you. But still fun, right?”
My heart pangs. “Chloe.”
“Mmm?”
“Isn’t it a bit soon for you to be…”
“What?” Her red brows arch skeptically. “Out of confinement at the castle? Surrounded by temptation in the form of an open bar in a ballroom full of fellow overdressed, overmedicated elites?”
“Your words, not mine.”
She sighs deeply. “Your concern is noted and appreciated, E. But isolation isn’t my style. I don’t think spending a few hours outside these walls, interacting with people other than you, my overbearing older brother, and my shrink would be the worst thing in the world. It would probably be good for me, actually.”
“Speaking of your shrink, what does Dr. Hess think about this proposed field trip?”
“She’s surprisingly onboard. She thinks it would be a good way to — and I quote —test the waters of my newfound sobriety in a familiar environment of temptation.”
I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip worriedly. On the one hand, what Chloe is saying makes sense. She’s been doing so well here. I want to trust that she’s ready to extend that progress into new settings. But I’m also terrified the minute she steps outside the palace gates, she’s going to fall off the wagon… straight onto the floor of some club in a drugged-out stupor.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she murmurs, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish. “You don’t think I’m strong enough to handle it. You doubt I’m actually serious about staying sober. But this time… God, I don’t know how to explain it, things just feeldifferent. Maybe because I actuallywantthem to be different. I actually want to change.”
“It’s not that I doubt you or your capabilities, Chloe. I just think it’s a little soon. You’ve been doing so well. Why rock the boat?”
“Staying in control here, surrounded by babysitters? That’s not difficult, E. I need to show that I can stay sober without constant supervision, outside this protective bubble.” A pleading note creeps into her voice. “I need to prove to myself that I’m stronger than my addiction. To prove that being an addict doesn’t define who I am.”
I suck in a breath.An addict.I’ve never heard her refer to herself in those terms before. She’s always downplayed her issues, laughed off our concerns about her frequent drug use with a pithy comment or a wave of her wrist. The fact that she’s actually acknowledging her own demons is such a leap from where she was mere weeks ago, it’s hard to wrap my mind around it.
“Please, E,” she murmurs. “Give me a chance.”
I can see how sincere she is. The intent look on her face, the fragile hope she’s not fully managing to conceal. This is an important step for her. Maybe not one I’m entirely comfortable with… but one she needs to take in order to move forward.
Squaring my shoulders, I take a deep breath and fix her with a stern look. “You’ll stick with me or Galizia the entire time we’re at the auction.”
“Consider me Elmer’s, baby — I’ll be like glue.”
“And I want to talk to Dr. Hess before we go.”
“Chat away.”
“And we’re not staying late.”
“Curfew accepted.”
My lips twist. I’ve never heard Chloe so agreeable aboutanything, let alone voluntarily attending a Germanian social function. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”
“I really am.”
“Then toss me that nail polish.”
“Why? Planning to stir up another social media storm with an unauthorized royal manicure?” Chloe smirks as she slides off the bed and crosses to hand me the small bottle. “You little rebel.”
“I’m not a rebel.” I roll my eyes. “And it’s not about creating chaos on Twitter. I just…”
“Don’t want to be controlled by some archaic, arbitrary rules you have no say in?” Her voice is wry. “Trust me, I get it. I’m all for it. In fact, if I were you, I’d take it even further.”
My brows go up. “Meaning?”