**THE PRINCESS SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE, and considered a sequel to THE GOLDEN QUEEN/A BRAZEN LOVE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE GOLDEN UNIVERSE NOVELS AND THE BRAZEN NOVELS TO READ THIS SERIES!♦
Cordelia, the Princess of Totresia, has alw...
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♪But why you gotta be so heartless? I know you think it's harmless ♪ {Diplo ft. Julia Michaels—Heartless} EXPLICIT warning—for the song
The brunch was, as expected, loud, over-the-top, and long. The instant Marguerite excused herself to rest, Cordelia took advantage to slip out with her, mingling with her ladies. Another glare from the tomato tarte—Sir Knowles' daughter, called as such by Cordelia from her obnoxious dress—or from sunflower girl—the pretty but unhappy lady who'd bumped into Cordelia near the stairs—and she worried she'd be unable to keep her mouth shut.
"The nerve of these girls," she said to Clarisse later on, as she prepared for the massive Presentation Ceremony. Massive, because twelve ladies were presenting themselves that night; something of a record, according to Clémentine, with whom Cordelia had discussed the festivities the day before. "Why are they so rude? Or do they have no clue who I am?" She shrugged at her reflection, as Clarisse weaved an olive green sash around her upper waist. "No... I would prefer the lavender one, please."
Clarisse obliged, switching the sash for another. Several had been laid out on Cordelia's bed, to wrap around her plain cream evening gown. "No excessive colors," Antoine had ordered, not wanting to intimidate the newcomers.
Ah, but they are not intimidated in the slightest, are they? With how they ogle me...
"I cannot say why they act like so, but do not forget that some of them may be assigned to you, Highness." Clarisse fixed the sash into a bow against Cordelia's back and ensured the material was without creases. "One, at least, the Queen mentioned."
"But why?" Cordelia huffed and flurried away from Clarisse, headed to her vanity, where she'd left her glass of wine. She'd begged her lady to sneak it to her, to ease her nerves and calm her down before the big event. Despite it not being her Presentation, she had no doubt all eyes would be on her. Those with malevolent intent, and those with hunger for her hand in marriage. "I have you, and I have three others. What purpose would more ladies-in-waiting serve? Is it a new trend? Or..." She wrinkled her brows as she spun to Clarisse, who hadn't moved from the mirror. "Are they to be spies? Oh, that would not surprise me in the least."
Clarisse grabbed a light shawl from the other end of the bed—a flimsy piece of fabric that glittered in the same hue as Cordelia's belt—and dropped it over Cordelia's shoulders. "You overthink this, Highness."
"Do I?" Cordelia's tone snapped, and Clarisse's eyebrows shot up as she backed away, her chin dipping down. Cordelia rarely raised her voice with her staff, and knew at once she'd gone overboard. "Sorry, sorry. He brings out the child in me; the tantrum-throwing one, that is. The one who refuses to abide by his excessive, exaggerated rules." She drained the rest of her cup and adjusted the shawl to her liking; tumbling down from her shoulders, the ends trailing at her sides. "He will put me on display tonight, assign me a disgruntled lady to eavesdrop on all my conversations. And then order me to marry some Frenchman behind everyone's back. Understand my stress."
