A Royal Ruse

Chapter 22

The Royal Annual Coronation Ball

"Ow," Zita yelped after she felt a sharp prick on the side of her midriff.

That was the third time that the seamstress's shaky assistant had misjudged cloth and flesh, nicking the skin of the already testy princess with the sharp quill of a feather. She apologized profusely each time but Zita was going through enough turmoil as it stood.

"I am already injured. I don't need more scrapes." Zita ripped her hand free from another assistant fiddling with the sleeve of her dress. "Leave me now."

The Royal Annual Coronation Ball was that night and Zita was a mess—emotionally speaking. Physically speaking she looked magnificent. The seamstress and her team had been working their hands raw over the princess's dress. Zita had spent the past few days as an irritated mannequin while the seamstresses insisted on all sorts of last-minute alterations to ensure the gown was a stitch above the rest.

The sleek forest-green gown they had created was adorned with iridescent blue feathers that fanned out along the bodice and continued into a train that swam behind her, in keeping with the night's Birds of Paradise theme. Zita was certain that her dress was going to be amongst the finest that night but that fact hadn't calmed her agitation.

Zita plopped herself down into the loveseat and stewed in her anxieties for the evening ahead. Her stomach was aflutter, and not with the fun butterflies that usually accompanied thoughts of Gadrian.

The prospect of dancing, eating, and spending the evening pinned to Gadrian's side should have been consuming the princess with giddy excitement but instead, he was the furthest thing from her mind. All she had been able to think about was how she unwittingly confirmed her true identity to Adair.

In the days following the meeting with the Farm Workers Guild, Zita had been relentless in her attempts to have an audience with Queen Tatiana— but she had been otherwise engaged. In her desperation, Zita even sought to talk to Adair but he was also nowhere to be found. The princess had been left to pickle in the tormenting juices of her worries for the past two days, effectively sapping all the excitement out of her and Gadrian's official debut as a couple.

"Your Highness, we need to get you ready for the ball." Sahali approached a slumping Zita with care, acknowledging her distress but still emphasizing that she simply didn't have the time to wallow. Zita's elaborate disguise took quite a while to complete and the servants' antsiness was diffusing more nerves into the air.

Zita whimpered, rising from the loveseat and plonking herself in front of the vanity. Zita grew more and more resentful of her disguise as the days went by.

Every morning she sat in front of the mirror and hated what she was being twisted into. But the only person who could put an end to Princess Nara was the queen.

Only one thing looped through Zita's mind as they swooped her coils up; I must talk to Queen Tatiana tonight.

"I'm speechless." Gadrian's crisp eyes crinkled under the weight of his smile.

Despite Zita's nerves and preoccupied mind, her legs still turned to jelly when he complimented her. Her dreamy-eyed escort reached out his hand for her to take and the worry slowly munching away at her insides temporarily calmed down.

"I'm at a loss for words myself" She brushed the bright magenta feathers Gadrian had bustling along the lapels of his jewel-toned suit.

"What do you think?" He looked at her, hopeful for approval.