**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! AS WELL AS BOOK ONE, PRINCESS OF CANDOR!♦
In...
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♪ And everybody said it was a let down I was only built like everybody else now ♪ {Billie Eilish—Overheated}
Within a week, all preparations were in place, and word came that the Prince and his retinue were in town in time for Lady Read's first party. She upped the stakes—requesting additional appetizers to be made by her staff, and fetching additional bottles of alcohol from the basement reserves—and enhanced every detail, from flower set-ups to where the fiddler and piano-player would perform.
Cordelia and Helen's dresses had showed up a few days prior, and Lady Read picked out which they'd wear tonight—the most important of nights, she'd clarified.
"The peach for you, Princess," she'd said, laying out the satin, short-sleeved gown on the bed, layering it with a white shawl. "And for you," she smirked at Helen, "the yellow. That color suits you so well despite your far from cheery disposition."
She was right—Helen's mood had shifted from bad to worse in the passing days. While Cordelia was dreading being looked at like a piece of merchandise, Helen was dreading her father's arrival, and his decisions. She didn't express it out loud, but she'd written in a journal—that Cordelia had accidentally stolen a glance at, curious about her handwriting—confessing that she anticipated he'd send her to the gallows, by this point. "Traveling with two men, seen as captors of a Princess, meddling with French coups... he will have me hanged."
Cordelia couldn't believe a man would sentence his own daughter to death, but then again, she'd never known her own father well enough to be sure that he wouldn't do the same. Men and their secrets, their subtle business practices, their schemes—she shuddered at the remembrance of one such man, Eugene Thatcher.
Cordelia and Helen, due to nerves, were ready early, their hair curled and piled up on their heads, white gloves pulled up to their armpits, silky stockings in place, polished—and new—shoes on their feet. They descended the stairs side-by-side, not quite touching, but heat radiating off the both of them. Helen's arm was shaking, and Cordelia thought to take her hand, squeeze it for reassurance. But it'd be too public, too abrupt, considering she'd rebuffed her advances before. Helen was much too tense; Cordelia wasn't sure if she'd accept a brief white flag, an instant of comfort before the events to come.
Lady Read had warned the manor would be filled with nobles and aristocrats from nearby cities, and some who'd traveled from London and farther north. It would be a huge affair already, without the royal retinue, and that was something Cordelia was used to, having grown up in a castle with lavish festivities and party-goers galore.
But this was something else. Her entire life might depend on the outcome of this little soiree, and she wasn't sure how to hold herself. Straight, uptight like she'd been raised? Stiff, snooty, over-the-top to prove her status? Or easygoing and lively, talkative, friendly?
She had no chance to make up her mind, as it appeared the royal retinue had arrived while she'd zoned out at the bottom of the stairs. The front doors were open to reveal a darkening sky, a few stars sprinkling over its navy blanket—and a troop of stuffy, pompous looking men ushering inside.
