“Anyway, that afternoon I found your mom wandering around the corridors but laughing about it. She’d been wandering for almost an hour,” Thomas tells me with a smile. “She’d gotten turned around, too.”
It’s one more thing my mother and I have in common, I guess. We both came here and lost our way. I don’t let myself think about the rest of it: about how easily that can be a person’s downfall.
“I showed her to the doors and waited while one of the embassy cars pulled up to get her. I kept thinking about that last night. About how now maybe you’ll get to leave,” Thomas tells me, but he sounds a little sad. Like maybe he’d give anything to leave, too, but knows he never will. “My grandfather will take care of it, Grace. You will be free of these responsibilities soon.”
“Maybe,” I say, and I can’t help myself. I feel a little sorry for Adria’s future king.
We must be getting closer to the party because faint traces of music come floating down the hall toward us. There’s the low rumble that comes from a crowd of people in a massive room with excellent acoustics. And with every step my hands tingle more, my heart pounds.
I’m just about to tell Thomas that I have to go back—that there’s been some kind of mistake—when, up ahead of us, a door opens.
It’s too late to move when a woman bursts into the hall, bumping into me. I teeter a little, and without my grip on Thomas’s arm, I might stumble.
I might fall.
But I don’t. Instead, I find myself frozen, staring into the eyes of the woman before me.
“Excuse me, Madame Prime Minister,” I say.
But the PM just glares at me. If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now.
“You kids have fun tonight!” a big voice booms, and I catch a glimpse of the king just past the prime minister’s shoulder.
“Yes, Grandfather,” Thomas says, then pulls me forward. I know there’s no use in looking back. It’s started now. And looking back won’t do anything but make me turn to salt.
I blame my new designer shoes for the fact that my footsteps are unsteady.
I blame the fact that I can’t breathe on the blue dress’s tiny waist.
“It’s okay, Grace.” Thomas places his hand over mine and squeezes. “I told you my grandfather would see to it. And he has. Very soon you will be free of me.”
I’m supposed to laugh. I suppose I really should smile. Telling the king sounded good in theory—it made sense at the time. But now that it’s real and there’s no going back, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m about to make everything worse.
But Thomas doesn’t understand my silence.
“It is okay, you know.” He looks a little sheepish. “I wouldn’t want to marry me, either.”
We’re nearing the end of the hall, and the music is louder. I can hear the dull hum of laughing, gossiping guests. We’re so close to the party, but I have to stop.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask him.
“I know you have no reason to trust any member of my family, but I assure you my grandfather does not lie. If he said he will fix your situation, then it will be fixed.”
“No. Not that.” I shake my head. “You really don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?” He honestly looks confused.
“That basically every girl in the world is going to want to marry you.”
He blushes a little. In his tux and white tie, he really is quite charming. He looks down. I half expect him to drag his toe across the carpet. “But not you.”
Now I want to laugh. “I’m not princess material.” I take his arm again, steer him toward the big open area at the end of the hall. The ballroom is down below. From up here, we are eye level with the massive chandeliers and the arching ceiling inlayed with gold, painted by an old master.
“Okay. So who do you want to marry?” the prince asks as we reach the railing of the balcony and look down on the dance floor below.
But one boy isn’t dancing.
He leans against the railing of the wide, sweeping staircase, looking up. I can’t help but think back to that day at the beginning of summer when my biggest worry was impressing Ms. Chancellor and trying not to cause an international incident in the rose garden. I was his best friend’s kid sister then, the bratty girl who was always climbing up trees and jumping off walls. So many things have changed, but one thing is constant: Alexei’s still the boy who will try to catch me.
“Wait,” Thomas says, following my gaze. “Don’t answer that.”
I’m pretty sure the prince and I are supposed to descend this gorgeous staircase together, arm in arm. Flashbulbs are supposed to go off. People are supposed to turn and stare. This is my big moment, my introduction. For the first time in my life, people are supposed to ask, Who’s that girl?—and not out of horror.
I know the prince knows this. I also know he doesn’t care, and that’s why he pushes me toward the stairs.
“Go on.”
I look back at him.
“He’s not here for me,” the prince says. Then he winks and walks away.