Royal Service (Royals of Danovar 1)

10

Ella stood in her room surrounded by acres of torn, wrong-sized, or otherwise unsuitable dresses, held her head in her hands, and wondered what the hell she’d done. She had nothing to wear to the ball. She had no business even being at the ball. When Phillip had asked her earlier, she’d been so caught up in the moment that she’d said yes without really thinking about what it meant.

But oh, had she ever had time to think about it since then. And most of what she was thinking couldn’t be uttered in polite company.

Luckily, she wasn’t in polite company, so she indulged her petty urge and kicked the nearest dress with a curse. The innocent taffeta fluffed wanly in response and then fell flat again.

Why did she have to say yes? She’d as good as told Phillip she would enter the running for queen. And God help her, a part of her did want to do exactly that—but what about the obligation-free life she’d planned out in the States, that she’d worked so hard for, sacrificed so much to gain? If Phillip had his way, she’d trade her self-inflicted servitude to her stepfamily for a duty to serve an entire damn country. Yes, she was starting to love Danovar, and yes, she could finally admit to herself that she was falling for Phillip too, but this wasn’t the way she’d thought things would go. And what about after the wedding, a few years down the road? Even now Phillip was always rushing from appointment to appointment, putting out fires and giving interviews and tending to the needs of his people. After he’d won her and the novelty of their relationship wore off, would either of them have any time left for each other? Or would their relationship become merely another duty to them both? She couldn’t stand that, for both her sake and his.

She flopped onto the bed and groaned.

“Problems?” said Anna’s voice from the doorway. Her stepsister strode into the room and closed the door behind her, surveying the dresses strewn everywhere and the collapsed Ella.

“Yes,” Ella muttered. “I have made a bad, bad decision and I don’t know how to get out of it without breaking someone’s heart.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, stepping over a small mountain of tulle. “You mean the king’s? Or yours?”

Ella lifted her head and winced. “Was it that obvious?”

“I know you well enough to see that you’re head-over-heels for him, and I also know you two have been sneaking off to make cow-eyes at each other while you pretend to try to find him another woman to marry. But yes, that dinner did make his feelings for you pretty obvious to everyone else too.”

Ella flopped back down and groaned again, throwing her arm over her face.

Anna shoved a tattered yellow dress away and sat beside her. “Honestly, I don’t see what the problem is. He seems like a perfectly nice guy, unlike that ridiculous playboy brother of his. Phillip takes things seriously. It looks like he wants to take you seriously. I don’t know why you would want to fight that.”

“Are you about to go all logical on me?” Ella demanded, her voice muffled by her arm.

Anna ignored her, taking a deep breath to prepare for her inevitable lecture—but then Anna’s mom opened the door, peering in at the two of them. Saved by the stepmother!

The woman frowned. “I came to get Daphne’s dress. I hope it’s not one of the ones on the floor?”

Ella sighed and climbed to her feet, retrieving the pink dress she’d finished pressing earlier. “Here you go,” she said, and started to close the door, but her stepmother’s foot darted out to stop it.

“Anna, your hair is a mess. Ella, could you fix it for her before the ball? You’re so good at that.”

The compliments were always what did her in. If her stepmother had been cruel or demanding, Ella would have had no problem brushing her off, but instead she genuinely admired Ella’s skills. The woman hadn’t quite been a mother to her, but neither was she an enemy—just loving but self-absorbed, and driven to see her biological daughters succeed above all else. Ella couldn’t quite manage to fault her for that. So, even though Ella had been the one invited to the ball, she once again had no choice but to agree to put someone else’s desires before her own.

“Of course,” she told her stepmother, defeated.

“Thank you, dear.” Her stepmother drew her foot back and marched off with the dress to Daphne’s room, probably to berate her to leave off flirting with the guards and pay more attention to the true prize of the Summer House Party.

Ella closed the door and turned back around to see Anna, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “What?” Ella asked.

Anna shook her head and stood. “I can manage my own hair. And it’s time you focused on yourself, rather than constantly helping everyone else. You know what—I’m going to help with your hair. You were the one the king invited, after all. The rest of us might as well be furniture as far as he’s concerned.”

Ella blinked. “Uh,” she managed, but Anna wasn’t done. She pushed Ella down onto the couch, pulled out her ever-present ponytail, and started tugging at her hair.

“Have you considered that being queen would allow you to do great things, to have purpose?” Anna asked. “No matter what you choose to do with your life, whether it’s training horses or serving a country, you’re going to be beholden to something. Why not be beholden to something that matters, side by side with someone you love?”

Ella stared straight ahead as Anna fiddled with her hair, stunned. She hadn’t really thought of it

like that before, but her stepsister was right. Being a queen could let her do some pretty amazing things. She’d only thought of the obligations, but those obligations came with some heady rewards—enacting positive change for a whole country, being in a position of power that would enable her to help others in a whole new way.

And…she could be with Phillip. For real this time, in front of the whole world. She could tell him she was falling in love with him and not care who overheard.

She blinked. Where had that thought come from? It was far too soon to talk about love, wasn’t it? But once the thought was in her head, she couldn’t get rid of it, nor did she truly want to. Just like her letter’s closing earlier, it felt right.

With one final twist, Anna finished her hair and then turned her to face the mirror. “What do you think?” she asked.