Morganna | ✔

I didn't know much about being a queen. What I was absolutely certain of, however, was that I wouldn't make a very good one.

I wasn't the gentle, intelligent creature my mother was, or anywhere near the noble leader my father had been. Before he passed, he had referred to me as his "little firecracker" for my fierce attitude and lack of a filter. Needless to say, I'd had trouble making friends as a child.

But I wasn't a child anymore, and there was something to be said about the fact that my mother was still treating me like one.

The distant sound of muffled coughing made me quicken my steps. The clicking of my heels against the wooden floor echoed through the massive hallway. You can do this, I told myself. Just tell her how you really feel.

I lifted my chin in a false show of courage and threw open the door to my mother's bedroom. "I refuse to marry such an incompetent—"

The speech I had been carefully preparing for weeks died on my lips when I noticed who else was in the room. My face flooded with heat. "Apologies, Mother. I didn't realize you had company."

"Forgiven, darling," she lifted a pale hand from the arm of her chair to wave me off, though the pointed look in her eyes contradicted her words. I knew that look well, having been on the receiving end of it for most of my life. "Lucien was just informing me about your recent behavior. He tells me you've been acting rather distant lately. Is this true?"

The rat himself stood beside my mother, ever the loyal servant. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, a guilt-ridden look on his handsome face. If he hadn't been complaining about me behind my back mere seconds ago, I might have actually felt bad for him. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Just as I started to ask why he couldn't have whined about me to my face, my mother cut in, "Don't look so cross, dear, it's unbecoming. Your fiancé was only worried about you."

Even the word fiancé made me want to retch. She broke off in a fit of coughs, reminding me why I ever agreed to marry him in the first place. The queen was dying, and I—the only living heir to the throne—had no choice but to take her place. One of my duties as heiress was to find someone fit to rule by my side. The kingdom had been without a king for too long, she'd told me sadly.

"My deepest apologies, Your Majesty, but the Pattersons have arrived with arrangements for the engagement ball," came a familiar voice from behind me. I turned my head and grinned at Bianca Church, my closest and only friend at the castle. She acknowledged me with the slightest quirk of her lips, far too professional to let her emotions shine through.

"Morganna, you are excused until further notice," the queen dismissed me. She took a long moment to study us, standing side by side. "Bianca, have I ever told you that you look exactly like my daughter?"

"Many times, Your Majesty," my friend replied easily.

I grasped her elbow and lead her out the door before the conversation could continue. "See you in a bit, Mother."

Bianca was chuckling as she led me down the hallway. She adjusted the white mask on her face; a clear indication of her rank as a servant. My own mask was jeweled and a deep shade of red, an unmistakable sign of royalty. We were required by law to wear them in public, as a way of identifying each other's social classes. The idea had been put into effect by one of my distant ancestors, and people had grown accustomed to it since then.

"Do you think the Pattersons would notice if we escaped out the kitchen door?" I asked earnestly.

She shot me a horrified look over her shoulder. "I assure you, there is no escaping the Patterson family. They're awfully hard to get rid of—I've been trying all morning."