Royal Service (Royals of Danovar 1)

Ella stared at herself. She’d had no idea Anna had the skills, but her blond locks tumbled across one shoulder in a half-updo that looked both effortless and gorgeous—like she was one of those women who could roll out of bed, slip a few pins in their hair, and walk out on a runway five minutes later. “Wow,” she managed. “It looks amazing.”

Anna smiled. “It’s about time you had someone take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, Ella pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

“No problem, sis. You know what, you should take one of my dresses, too. I hardly ever wear them so they’re not in nearly as bad a shape as Daphne’s. You can wear my silver gown and those glittery heels.”

Ella balked. “But you were supposed to wear that!”

Anna shrugged. “We can trade. Besides, you know that silver dress looks just like that prom dress you begged Mom to get you back in high school. She never had enough money to buy us all good dresses, remember? And you were always the one who backed down. Well, now it’s your turn to get the good dress. Plus, I’d be more than happy to wear that drab black outfit of yours and fade into the crowd. The sooner I get you married to the king, the sooner I can get back to my work.”

Ella laughed at the sudden reversal of their roles, nearly giddy at the shiny new future her stepsister had laid out so neatly for her. It sounded amazing, impossible: wear the shiny dress, court the handsome king, be a positive force for change in the world. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Ella was ready for her turn to shine.

11

Phillip had made small talk and smiled his official king smile and complimented more dresses than he could count. The ball had only started twenty minutes ago but he already felt like he might fall on his own ceremonial sword if he had to bow over one more lady’s hand, if that lady wasn’t Ella.

He glanced at the stairs where the ladies had been making their entrance. Empty. The last trickle of fashionably-late guests had arrived a few minutes ago and it was starting to look like she wasn’t coming. Internally, he cursed himself. It had to be his fault. He’d pushed too hard, put too much attention on her, tried to move too quickly. Maybe she had just meant she was ready for a new pair of shoes.

In the corner, the band started to warm up. Phillip tugged at his collar. If Ella didn’t get here in the next few minutes, he’d have to pick someone else for the first dance. Should he randomly choose one of the other eligible ladies? His mother, perhaps? He shot one last desperate glance at the stairs—and his heart stopped.

Ella had arrived.

She stepped onto the landing, one hand resting delicately on the railing and the other lifting her dress as she descended. She was in a silky silver gown that cascaded across her curves like liquid moonlight, and she was wearing those glittering shoes—he remembered handing one of those to her the first time they’d met. Her hair was swept half up, the rest of it tumbling across one shoulder in an even sexier version of her normal ponytail. Her gaze was steady and sweet when it landed on him, and he had to catch his breath. She looked like every good dream he’d ever had. She looked like a fairytale come to life. She looked like a queen.

She reached him, extending her hand for him to bow over. “My lady,” he murmured, and she smiled again, accepting the title. His heart pounded. This was it; she was making it official. She was willing to give up her old dreams for the chance to be his queen. No one could ever have given him a better gift.

The band slid into the first song, a royal waltz. He swept her out onto the dance floor. When they moved into the dance’s steps, he marveled at the way she felt in his arms. A few other couples—the ladies sullen, but that was no longer his problem—stepped out and followed suit, and soon they were lost in a crowd. Phillip might as well have been blind, though, for all he could see anything but Ella.

Unable to resist temptation, he slipped his hand a little lower. The next time the dance’s steps moved Ella in toward him, he whispered in her ear, “I can’t wait to get you alone.”

She shivered and her eyes lit up, just about killing him on the spot.

The band moved into another dance, and then another, but he couldn’t unglue himself from her. Whenever they’d spin past each other, she’d accidentally-on-purpose brush a little too close, and it was driving him crazy in the best possible way. But after four dances together, Ella was getting breathless from all the twirling and hopefully also from imagining all the things he was planning to do to her later, and she reluctantly stepped back.

“You should socialize with your other guests,” she said, having to lean in to be heard. The band had shifted to a more modern, upbeat song. “We wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

Phillip was pretty sure they’d all gotten exactly the right idea by this point, but the dance floor was getting rather crowded, and he could use some fresh air. He spotted the exit to the balcony and ushered her toward it.

They both breathed deeply in the cool night air. The stars burned bright and clear overhead, and Ella tilted her head back to take them in. Phillip put his arm around her waist, enjoying her delight and her company. It was nice to get a moment to themselves after the new public-ness of their relationship.

The clatter of heels behind them alerted him to an encroaching visitor. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Ella’s stepmother, trailing two older women. Thinking fast, he tugged Ella toward the far side of the balcony, which curved around the ballroom. There was a secret alcove here that he liked to visit every so often, when he needed an escape. Ivy draped over the entrance, and when it was dark out, anyone who didn’t already know it was there could easily miss it. He ducked through the ivy and pulled Ella in behind him.

Catching on to his purpose, she hurried in and sat on the stone bench that jutted out perpendicular to the ballroom wall. The side walls curved in around them, creating a small nook that hid them from the rest of the world.

He sat behind her, one leg on either side of the bench, and smothered a smile in her neck. He felt like a schoolboy in here, hiding from one of his stricter tutors. Ella caught on to his sense of mischief, grinning and tucking herself under his chin.

Outside, Ella’s stepmother’s heels clicked past. She paused, right outside the cascading ivy. “I was sure I saw them come out here,” she murmured to the other ladies.

Ella stifled a snicker, clapping her hand over her mouth. She looked so adorable, plus she was in the perfect position—back snug up against him, giving him the perfect view down the front of her shirt if he ducked his head—that he couldn’t help himself. He unzipped the back of her dress enough to slip his hand inside, snake it around to her front, and tease one of her nipples. She arched back against him, biting her lip to keep from making any noise. It felt like a challenge. One that he was more than up to.

As the stepmother continued chatting with her friends right outside, he unzipped her dress all the way—taking it slow to make sure it was silent—and ran his hand further beneath that supple, silky material. More than up to his challenge as well, she threw him a defiant look and slung one of her legs on the other side of the bench, opening to him, daring him.

Oh, yes, this was exactly what he’d wanted during all those dances. He ran his hand across her stomach, moved it further down, and circled one finger around the spot where he knew she wanted him most. She squirmed and he withdrew, teasing her again. She whirled around, glaring at him, and leaned in close.

“My turn,” she breathed, and unzipped his pants.