The Arrangement

〄Prologue〄

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     Violins, cellos, harps, and flutes filled the ballroom with their song as we stepped in through the open door. Nobody was paying attention to us yet. Thankfully so. They were all chatting amongst themselves or staring at the Royal family.
    
     Adam stood next to me, my hands gently clasped around his bicep. His Oxford blue guard suit genuinely looked nice on him. It complemented his eyes and skin very well. He looked like bona fide royalty.

     I unclaimed his arm and quickly straightened out my gown. This entrance needed to look as picture-perfect as it was planned to be. My dress was the same color blue as Adam's suit. The same color as the Royal family has claimed. The bodice, sleeves, and very bottom of the dress were covered in intricate gold lace. I watched it glitter in the light as I twisted my arm in front of me.

     "You look great," Adam says quietly from my side.

     "Thank you," I pause for a second, messing with the skirt of the dress. "I'm not a huge fan of off-the-shoulder things though."

     "Of course, you aren't," he chuckles and shakes his head as I look up at him.

     It felt like my body was vibrating. Anxiety and nerves kicking my fight or flight into overtime. My breath started coming shorter and more quickly.

     "I'm here for you. You have my support," Adam offers his right arm back to me, and I gladly take it.

     Although none of the guests have noticed us yet, I can feel one pair of eyes on me. They practically burn into me. Turning my head down to look at the beautiful marble tiles, I focus on breathing.

     After last night, it would be hard to make eye contact with him. The feelings that consumed me during that conversation before flooded through like pressurized water escaping a freshly broken dam. My pulse sores and the world slowly starts to spin around me. Gripping Adam's arm harder, he bends down to my ear and asks if I'm okay.

     "No," I gingerly lift my lips towards his right ear. "To be quite honest, I feel like I'm going to faint."

     Just then the piano begins to play. This was our cue to begin what we spent all of yesterday practicing. We both promptly go back to facing forward, with our chins raised proudly. With forced smiles plastered on our faces, we begin to descend down the grand staircase to the extravagant floor of the ballroom, my heart beating out of my chest. So many eyes are on me, and me alone. I can hear all the whispering.

     But, like I was taught to, I calmly wave and smile at people as we pass, making eye contact when appropriate. These people will someday soon be my responsible.
My cheeks begin to burn with the effort that it takes to keep the fake smile glued on my face. To distract me mentally from the pain, I focus on my gown silently swooshing with each tentative step we take towards the King and Queen- and him. Adam leans back down to my ear when we're halfway to them.

     "You're doing great," he whispers. "The King and Queen look very pleased."

     I glance up at him once he's back to standing tall. His friendly blue eyes glimmer in the lights of the chandeliers. Deep dimples are prominent as he smiles reassuringly down at me. Some of the pressure and anxiety melt away with just his cordial gesture, letting my shoulders relax a smidgen. Breathing deeply through my nose, we finally cross the threshold and are in front of his and her majesties.

     Adam retrieves his arm from my grasp and bows to them with a kind smile on his face. I follow him, curtsying while eloquently bowing my head to them. After five seconds, we both raise back up in unison. My eyes meet both the King's and Queen's eyes. They do look pleased with us. The Queen is even directly giving me a delicate smile.

     Holy shit... she can be nice.

     Adam lays his right hand on my mid-back and guides me over to him.

     This is what I've been dreading all day. Nobody likes a stuck-up prince. Yet, of course, that is what I've been trapped with for the past two months of my life. His well-polished black boots come into view as we near. I, of course, do not want to even be near him.

     Begrudgingly, I raise my face up to his. Keeping my chin high, I stare at him. The sweetest of fake smiles spreads across my neutral-colored lips. I'm sure my eyes aren't hiding the hurt and anger I feel towards him, but as long as he's the only one that can see those emotions right now, it'll be okay.

     His dark brows furrow for half a second before he catches himself. In that split second, I saw his own anger and resentment towards me. Yet, his perfectly pristine emotional mask fully takes over quickly.
He effortlessly grins at me, his dark grey eyes blooming with such love and adoration. If I wasn't aware of his feelings, I would pass out from the beauty of him. He should become an actor. Yet, that beauty is nothing compared to what's on the inside. It's entirely superficial. A show.

     As instructed yesterday, Adam bows first. Once he stands up in front of the prince, they shake hands and Adam goes to take his seat back behind the prince's throne. Once he looks back at me, I slowly begin my curtsy. Unlike with the King and Queen, I have to keep my face aimed at his. We're supposed to be equals. His black glove-covered hand extends in front of me. I sadly have to take it as I begin to stand back up. The heat of his hand seeps through his glove. For a few seconds, I'm glad for it. My fingers are fridged due to the amount of anxiety I'm feeling.

     My hand is held loosely while he bows back to me. The eye contact is borderline unbearable, but neither of us can break it without the wrath of the King or Queen later once the party is over. He steadily keeps eye contact as he bows before me.

     There is a very big part of me that is super smug over this because I know how lowly he feels I am compared to him. I feel my lips begin to slightly smirk, but I can't help it. He places a graceful kiss on the back of my hand. There's suddenly a burning and intimidating look in his eyes as he does. My smirk runs away with its tail between its legs and goes back into hiding. I force the sweetly fake smile to return when all I want to do is rip my hand away and run to my room.

     My stomach tightens, nerves flowing through me as he stays kissing me like that for quite a few seconds longer than we practiced. The intense look never changed or left his eyes. He stands back up, gripping my hands tighter than before, and discreetly yanks me forward toward my throne next to his.

     Thanks to his rude tug, I am now mere inches away from him. At the realization, my entire body stiffens from being so close. Against my will, my head turns away from his just as he leans toward my ear.

     "You really did think you had the upper hand there for a second," his whisper is raspy and the fluttering in my stomach erupts. "You don't though... and you never will." He chuckles almost sinisterly as he backs away and officially places me in front of my throne.

     "Fix your face, darling," he sneers at me, his face close to mine with his back to the audience. "It looks like you've seen a ghost. It's not attractive."

     The smirk plastered on his face then is the meanest one that I've ever seen from him. The evilest smirk I've seen in my entire life, honestly. His dark grey eyes are the coldest I've ever seen from anyone. Anxiety blooms in the pit of my stomach and weaves its way through me as we glare at each other. 

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