A cold, melodic voice straightened my spine, and I spun, finding a tall, slender woman who looked a lot like Lottie. She had the same creamy milk chocolate complexion and that inexplicably soft aura.
Class, the first word that came to my mind. Unlike the Crownes’, hers was subdued and somehow more intimidating. She wore supple white leather gloves that disappeared up the elbow, into a belted, sandy wool coat. She eyed me with nothing save coldness.
“I thought the servants at Crowne Hall didn’t meet the eye,” she mused, tilting her chin.
I quickly stared at the floor.
“I’m Mrs. du Lac, Charlotte’s mother, and you’re in my way.”
I quickly stepped to the side, still staring at the floor.
“Lottie, sweet pea?” Mrs. du Lac
knocked lightly. “It’s me.”
“Is everything okay?” I wondered aloud.
Charlotte’s mother tensed at my question; then her wide, brown eyes landed on my neck.
“That’s a very beautiful locket.”
I slapped a hand over it. “I…it’s…” Why was I stammering? It meant nothing. It was nothing.
So why couldn’t I take it off?
“I’m sure you can busy yourself somewhere else for the next hour. I need to have a conversation with my daughter that you don’t need to hear.”
“Of course.”
She eyed the card in my hand. “That card may have your name on it, but you will never wear that dress.”
I felt caught, like I’d stolen something, even though she was right. It did have my name on it. I wanted to hide it behind my back. Instead, I just stared at the floor.
Mrs. du Lac tested the knob, voice gentle now. “Lottie? I’m coming in.”
She opened and closed the door, and Lottie’s sobs echoed even through the thick wood. Dread spread like smoke in my body, faint but choking. The dress still lay in its box on the table, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Grayson wanted me to wear it tonight.
A Cinderella fantasy played out in my head before I could stop it. Maybe Lottie was crying because he broke up with her, maybe her mom was here to take her home, maybe this dress would take me to the party…
Maybe I was an awful, terrible human.
I looked at the dress again, shaking my head. I wasn’t going to play his game.
I slid out of Grayson’s wing, “busying myself” looking for answers as to what was going on tonight, and maybe a slice of pizza. I hated eating leftover fancy food.
Crowne Hall was even busier than when I’d left it. Double the servants on the floor, double the security, and more paparazzi getting walked through to the press room. A servant rushed by me, someone I didn’t recognize. They’d hired more help for whatever was happening.
“What’s going on?” I asked him, hoping he didn’t know enough about me to ignore me.
He paused, looking at the floor. “It’s taking place in the antique room.”
My heart squeezed at the idea of returning there, but still I wandered into the antique room.
Artificial snowflakes dusted the black windows like glitter. That was the first sign, when I should’ve turned around and run. But I stepped farther inside, my toes crushing an aisle of white rose petals, and, I was sure, real diamonds that cut the room in two. I was flanked by rows and rows of chairs.
Down the aisle was an arch, a backdrop, dripping with more flowers than I’d ever seen in my life. Hundreds of roses and calla lilies and orchids dotted with diamonds. At the helm was a boy. With messy spun rose gold hair, cutting blue eyes, and a suit so dark emerald it could be black…and an emerald pocket square to match.
That was when it hit me.