She laughed. “Of course you were.”
She went to one wall, typing in a code in an electric lock. Out of the wall sprang a closet, and Abigail disappeared behind the silk and satin and glitter.
“This one.”
Abigail popped her head from behind the pull-out closet. She held the dress up to my body, then shook her head, tossing it to the ground. Liquid gold fell to the floor in a heap as Abigail disappeared back behind the pull-out closet.
“No, this one.” Abigail held another beautiful gown up to my body.
She came to me, holding it up and staring at me with wide red-brown eyes. “Well?”
“What?”
“Get dressed.”
Abigail must have been a few inches shorter than me, but I felt miles smaller than her. I took it cautiously.
“Are you back?” I wondered aloud as I shimmied into the green material.
Had the Crownes allowed Abigail back—and why did that give me hope?
But then Abigail laughed. “Hell no. A special holiday dispensation has been made. Every other day of the year, I don’t exist to these people. My mother doesn’t even know I’m pregnant. Oh!” she said suddenly, and I froze, worried I’d ripped the fabric or something. “You have the Nutcracker Masquerade and Christmas Eve and Christmas too. Do you have something for that?”
I shook my head.
“So you probably don’t have anything at all for the holidays?”
Another shake of my head. She exhaled, blowing a strand of curly brown hair, and headed to another wall, typing in another code. The wall popped out like the last one.
“So, um…” I focused at the satin buttons on my side. “You’re still excommunicated?”
“Of course. I broke off my engagement and eloped with my bodyguard.”
I dropped my hands, giving up on the beautiful green dress to say what was really on my mind, “I don’t understand. Why do you have to lose everything just because you loved someone you weren’t supposed to?”
“Because forcing us to love who they choose is how they stay on top. My grandfather always told me you’re either for this family, or you’re against it…” She pulled out another dress then her eyes popped on me. “You look like you need to sit down.” She came to me, sitting me on a sateen chaise, before returning to the closet.
“I think it’s time for a few insider tips that no one will tell you, not even Gray, because he has no fucking clue what it’s like to be a girl in this world.” She rifled through more dresses, choosing her favorites. “Tansy Crowne’s compliments are not compliments.”
“I knew that one.” I smiled wanly.
“It doesn’t matter what century it is, you are not equal. You’re expected to know that. Watch out for snakes because they do not look like snakes, and they will prey on you.”
“I knew that one too…” I whispered, and Abigail appeared from behind the wall of dresses with a soft look. She went on about what color lip to wear to what kind of breakfast and lunch, what shoes to wear, what not to wear to what party. How to cross my legs, how to smile for paparazzi, how to angle my chin for photos, what not to say, until the advice started to blur into one.
“A Finsta? A what?” I suddenly felt overheated.
“A Finsta is just a secret Instagram account. Everyone in our world has one, and the rules are you do not share out of our social circle. Can’t have a prince of Dubai’s cocaine and cunnilingus habit made public or the First Daughter’s tits all over social media.”
Abigail thumbed through more dresses, speaking casually. Meanwhile, I struggled to stand.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said. “They talk about me online. They think they know me. And some of them…they do.”
Abigail laughed. “Hoo boy, I think I understand why my brother called me.”
Her brother.
“Your brother?” My heart pounded, fingers shaking as I buttoned up the side of my dress. “Your brother is the reason you’re here?”