Chapter 25

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Everything moves very quickly. Dylan tells us we need to make a good impression on Nicholas' future-bride and how we look now won't do. As he says this he looks me up and down disapprovingly. The dust from traveling mixed with our sweat has given us a grimy look and rolling around on the hills didn't make things much better. My hair is greasy and tangled, my blouse that was once white is now completely brown. Not to mention the bags under my eyes from the exhaustion of walking all day and being unable to sleep through the nights.

We're on the outskirts of the kingdom and the castle where Princess Miola resides is still miles away. We all go to a hotel, built in the ruins of what was once a military base, Nicholas tells me. It's the coolest hotel we've been to; long, dark hallways dimly lit by flickering candle light, large rooms barely decorated except for giant tapestries hung on every wall. As cool as it is, there is a cold and haunting feel to the whole building. It doesn't feel like a ghost will pop out at me so much as it feels like the doors might close and never open, leaving me to die trapped and alone. That sounded very dark but everything about my room gives me the chills.

After helping the attendants drop my stuff off in the room I request a bath. After waiting for a while for the water to be heated I go and scrub myself clean. I use a rough cloth to make sure all the sweat and dirt has been removed from my body. I lather my hair and body in soap and when I'm done rinsing the water is disgusting. I climb out, still feeling dirty from sitting in the gross water. I've never liked baths for this reason.

Some part of me wants me to look my best so I dry my hair carefully and choose my best outfit for tomorrow. I want to look nice in front of Miola, not because she's royalty but because she might be marrying Nicholas. I start to think about what that means, that I care what Nicholas' fiance thinks of me. Does it mean I want her to be my friend? Or to respect me? I've heard she's beautiful, do I want to look nice because sitting next to her looking like I usually do might make me look like an ogre? Maybe I'm intimidated because she's Cinderella's competition for Nicholas. Maybe she's my competition for Nicholas.

The gravity of what I've just thought makes my head spin and I have to sit down on the bed. I can't like Nicholas! I want him to marry Cinderella! And if I like him then what about Chase? What about Chase? Why would it matter to Chase if I liked Nicholas? I cover my face with a pillow, feeling ready to scream. This is stupid, why would I ever have a crush on them? I'm not in sixth grade. I'm just a girl. A girl with two male friends who doesn't have a romantic relationship with either of them because she loves them both as friends and if she messes that up then she'll have no one left. No one but Cinderella who is currently in a coma of all things. Saddened and confused by this awful train of thoughts I fall asleep in the fetal position, hugging a pillow close to my chest.

I wake up to Nicholas's gentle touch on my shoulder. "Wake up, it's time to go to dinner," he says softly, a kind smile on his face. I nod, trying to gather myself. It is always so strange to wake up from a nap, not knowing what time it is or what's happened since you fell asleep. He waits patiently for me to run a brush through my hair and put on a coat, then we walk down the hallway to the dining area. Usually other people staying at the hotel would be eating with us but because of our status the room has been cleared of people and a feast is laid out for us. After piling roast beef and various side dishes on our plates Nicholas and I sit down across from Chase.

"So... we meet Princess Miola tomorrow," I say as casually as I can, picking at my mashed potatoes. "Are you nervous?"

Nicholas chuckles awkwardly. "A bit, she's my future bride after all. Most likely at least"

"Yeah, how are you feeling about that?" We've covered almost every possible topic during our travels but we've avoided talking about Nicholas' engagement.

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