take me to a

o

he prince's room. Or, well.

A bed large enough to drown in. Everything in shades of deep emerald and gold. There were paintings on the walls-oil portrai

asked, even though I

ew years older than me-nod

lump in my throa

was m

't care. My legs finally gave out when the doors shut. I dropped onto t

e mouth. Same

the sa

anym

it felt like an apartment on its own, with ceilings so high they disappeared into intricate golden patter

y wall to wall. They offered a sweeping view of the palace gardens-manicured hedges shaped like r

ranslucent silk, cascading down like mist. The sheets were smooth as cream, the pillows so many and so soft it f

marble, and a bookshelf built into the wall-filled with thick, leather-bound books, old and scented with time.

kets, formal sashes, polished boots. And the bathroom-it wasn't even a bathroom. It was a royal spa. Heated floors, a sunken marb

d something warm and woodsy-like wealt

-

t N

n't s

re

. Just twenty-four hours ago, I was being dragged into a van. Just twelve hours ag

ve told t

ould

t was something else. Maybe it was the thought of going bac

th

safety.

ow long I could

-whoever the real Prince Elia

just opened its d