𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 - 𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧

(seven)

"Oh, hell no!" Princess Siyeon shrieks. She's just been informed of her mother's setup. I'm down the hall with Minji, discussing proper behaviour and etiquette, and I can hear the Princess wailing with complaints even from here.

Angry footsteps resound through the hallway, followed by the skittering sound of heels on tile following behind. "Your highness," another female servant says, "Someone needs to represent the family at this wedding. The Queen says you must take someone with you, and that it has to be you because your sisters are far too young."

Suddenly, the door is thrown open, and in the doorway stands Princess Siyeon, absolutely fuming. I guess I got the news before she did. Last night, the Queen ordered me directly to be Princess Siyeon's wedding date and fake girlfriend. Refusing an order from the Queen could have me executed – and not in an empty threat way like when the Princess says it. I could be killed for real.

"Kim Bora, follow me, now." She storms in and grabs my wrist, yanking me up from my seat and dragging me upstairs to her room. She slams the door and then throws me against it, leaning menacingly over me. Her hands are on either side of me, preventing me from moving. "I don't want to go to this wedding, and I especially don't want to go with you," she growls, "So let me lay down a few rules for our trip: all of your responsibilities still apply. You are not allowed to touch me or call me your girlfriend in front of anyone. Let me do all the talking at the wedding. Behave yourself or I'll have you beheaded for treason."

If there's a way to say no to that, I don't think I'll ever find it. So, like a good girl, I simply agree to her conditions. Even then, she doesn't move. She's still got me caged in against the door, right up in my face with that intense stare. I can feel her breathing, she's so close. Too close. But I say nothing. I simply close my eyes and count to ten, praying she'll let me go. I hate feeling trapped, and I hate not being able to fight back, and Princess Siyeon is making me feel both right now.

"We leave tomorrow evening," she says. Finally, she pulls away, and I feel the tightness in my chest dissipate slowly. "You can't wear that."

I ask, "Can I wear slacks instead?"

"You're a girl."

"Yes, and I'd like to wear slacks," I repeat.

Princess Siyeon's face contorts in confusion, but nonetheless she tells me she'll contact her tailor to make me both a dress and a suit to look presentable on our trip.