“The last few gowns she sent have been the same.” There were a few in the mix that fit, but the others must’ve been meant for someone else.
“We can bring them back to her next week. Until then, you go brush your teeth and hair, and I’ll get my needle and thread.”
* * *
Ronan waits outside the cottage in a gilded carriage more opulent than any I’ve ever seen—even the wheels are golden. Once I’m settled, the driver cracks the whip and we’re off, rolling down the cobbled streets while passersby stop to gawk and point.
I hate every second of it.
Who needs a golden carriage? It’s utterly ridiculous, if you ask me. Surely there are better uses for one’s wealth than this.
Ronan’s hand falls to my knee with a reassuring squeeze, his smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I missed you yesterday.”
When I cross my legs, his hand slips off. “My stomach started hurting, so I went back home.”
“How are you feeling now?”
Like I don’t want to be here.“A little nervous, I suppose.” Although I’m not sure why. It’s not as if I plan on proposing to Ronan and need his parents’ approval.
“Don’t worry. My parents are going to love you.”
We’ll see about that.
His smile tightens as he turns to face me fully. “But you might do me one small favor,” he says. “If they ask about your family, can you tell them your father is something respectable? Like an accountant?”
Something respectable? Is he joking? I can’t lie to the king and queen. All they have to do is ask anyone from Gravale to find out the truth. There must be awful consequences for sowing such falsehoods.
Besides, I’m proud of my father’s job. Raising goats might not be the most glamourous work, but my father is a good, honest man.
Ronan pats my knee once more as we roll to a stop at the base of the castle’s marble stairs, seeming unfazed by having asked this of me. Meanwhile, I feel as if I’m a piece of muck unfit to cling to the prince’s shiny boots.
All this time, I believed Ronan liked me for me, that he didn’t care about my father’s occupation.
I should’ve known better.
He has proven time and again that he is willing to lie about everything; why wouldn’t he lie about this?
“Ronan, this is a mistake?—”
The door opens and a servant in blue and gold livery appears, his hand extended toward me.
I can’t exactly tell him to take me back now, can I?
My stomach twists as I step out of the carriage.
Everything is fine.
It’s going to be fine.
I’m going to walk in, look around, and then put this place and this prince behind me.
* * *
Castle Rose is as lovely as its name, with rounded turrets and peaked, sky-blue roofs. According to Ronan, there are twenty-five bedrooms. Visitors range from foreign leaders and dignitaries to Ronan’s extended family—his mother has six siblings, all with multiple children. I can’t imagine having that many guests staying in my home with me and my family.
Not that it matters since I have no intention of marrying the prince.
Ronan leads me past the waiting servants into a spacious receiving room with black and white checkered tiles.