Royalty Check

8 | AT A ROYAL BALL

𝓣he sound of strings fills the room. Ruby bows. I curtsy.

"You're getting good at that," she says, taking my hand. "Ouch!"

I remove my second left foot off her flats. "Sorry."

"Don't worry, I lost feeling in them three dances ago."

We've been practicing for nearly an hour — the waltz, the tango, even a bit of salsa. Ruby, graceful and confident, twirls me around my room, patiently giving me direction. I try not to look at my feet the entire time.

She wipes her brow as the song ends. "Well, I think that's good for now."

"You mean that's good enough," I say. "I'll just avoid the dance floor altogether. You can find me at the bar."

"You never know! A gallant duke may ask for a dance."

I raise my eyebrows. "Do you know one of those?"

"Admittedly, no," Ruby says, checking her phone. "Alright, ball starts at 7. The princess has asked you to join her in her chambers in an hour for hair and makeup."

I make a face.

"I can tell her you won't be joining her?"

"No, no," I say, slumping onto the plush bench near the window. "That's very kind of her to invite me."

"Great," Ruby says, typing out a text. "Anything else you need?"

"Hmm." I'm sure what I don't know could fill a book longer than any I've ever written. "Any last minute ball advice?"

With a smile, Ruby throws her phone into her large work bag. "Same advice I gave you last time. No phones. Avoid controversial topics of conversation. And don't –"

"Raise your voice, yeah," I say. "I'll try to follow that one this time."

An hour later, hair and face clean and ready for whatever Nora has planned, I make my way across the landing. My room is part of a cluster of guest rooms and smaller offices to the right of the stairs. I've never been to the royal chambers, which take up the other portion of the second floor.

A stiff guard stands outside a large double door. He doesn't look at me as I pass, and I wonder if the king or queen is inside, getting ready. Or perhaps the prince?

"Over here!"

Nora waves me over, her hair wrapped in large curlers."Yay! I'm so glad you joined me. I was afraid you were going to wear your hair in a braid or something."

"No, never," I say, quickly undoing the braid I had put my hair in after my shower.

She leads me through a sitting room and into her bedroom, nearly twice the size of mine. It's decorated simply, like my room is, but I can see Nora's personal touches. Framed photos of family and friends, posters of Harry Styles next to her vanity.

The room doesn't feel too large because Nora fills it with her utter excitement. She can hardly contain herself as she leads me to three attendants, waiting patiently for us next to an illuminated floor-to-ceiling mirror.

"Hello," I say nervously, wondering what they're about to do to me.

An older woman with short curly hair gestures for me to take a seat.

"This is Calliope," Nora says. "She's truly the best."

Calliope doesn't say anything as she examines my hair. Her face is inscrutable, but she doesn't seem pleased. Finally, she nods, as if she's decided that she can indeed work with this.

"And this is Daisy," Nora says, giving the second woman's arm a squeeze. Daisy, a petite blonde with a warm smile, waves shyly. "She is a makeup wizard. These two will make us into the supermodels we are born to be."