When I walked out of my room and towards the grand staircase, I had promised myself that I'd try to act naturally and have a good time. I'd been to parties before, though never wearing something as fancy as the gold, floor length empire waist gown that was draped aesthetically off one of my shoulders.

The shimmering fabric sat beautifully against my deep skin in a way no other dress ever had. Between that and the crown jewels Madeline had selected for me the night before, I really felt like a princess. Which I am not, I reminded myself, and never will be.

Rounding the last corner before the grand staircase, I could see Clarence come into view. The golden trim on his red jacket beautifully framed his dark face, and the pinstripe down the side of his pants made him look even taller than he already was.

My heels must have come into hearing range against the polished marble floor, because Clarence, and at least half of the others, turned to face me. I could feel the heat rise into my cheeks and my heart pounded in my chest. Everyone is looking at me.

My eyes found Clarence, and I smiled, resisting the urge to adjust my hair or my dress as I continued the lengthy walk down what remained of the hallway. I took the last few steps forward as Clarence walked to meet me, looking like he wanted me to place my hand in his. Remembering that my job was to make the whole thing look real, I took a steadying breath and set my hand down on top of his and allowed him to place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

"Wow," he said, after letting go of my hand. "You look absolutely incredible."

I could feel the butterflies dancing in my stomach. It's an act. He's a talented actor.

"Thanks." I smoothed my dress down with my hands, ironing out the imaginary wrinkles so I had something to do with my hands. "You don't look so bad yourself." I looked up at him to see a genuine smile for perhaps the first time since the night I met him.

Two loud raps sounded against a wall or door somewhere in the distance and a man announced something I could not hear.

"Time to go." Clarence held his arm out in front of us, gently placing my hand on top of his and encouraging me to hold it. I took as deep a breath as the dress would allow, thinking about my heels and the enormous staircase in front of me.

"You'll be okay," Clarence whispered in my ear. "We're next to last so I'm sure everyone will be bored by then."

"Right." I rolled my eyes. "The crown prince and the king are definitely the most boring part of a royal gala." But the joke had calmed my nerves enough that I was no longer shaking like a leaf.

"Okay." He shrugged. "Maybe not bored, but certainly thrilled to even see us."

The king glared at us from the other side of the staircase so we both stopped talking, though Clarence did turn and make a funny face in my direction before taking his place in line.

We waited probably half an hour as the people in front of us were announced and descended the staircase. One from our side and then one from King Richard's side. Finally, the man in front of us — the duke or marquis or whoever he was — followed the sound of his name around the corner, descending the stairs.

"One more, and then us," Clarence said, guiding me a few steps forward, so we were as close to the corner as possible without being seen.

My throat tightened and the knot in my stomach grew, so I only nodded, unsure if I was able to speak at all. Clarence squeezed my hand in his, and I allowed myself to take yet another deep breath to steady my nerves. Mere moments later, I heard the page call out "The Crown Prince Alexandre and Miss Genevieve Levin!"

And we were off, stepping around the corner into full view, with my hand still in Clarence's.

There were no guests in the entrance hall, but there was a sizable group of reporters huddled between the open palace doors and one of those tapes they put up at theaters or airports to keep people in line. Their cameras were flashing constantly, but unlike most paparazzi I'd seen, no one was clamouring or asking for us to look at them so they could get a better picture.

The contents of my stomach churned, so I tried to focus on all the things I'd learned to prepare for this moment. The smile on my face must have faltered as I tried to walk down the stairs and keep my nerves under control. What am I doing here?

In my room, I'd felt ready, but there, with the eyes of an entire nation on me, I felt very much like the earth opening to swallow me whole would be a more pleasurable experience.

I glanced briefly at Clarence, who smiled reassuringly before turning back towards the photographers. "Just give them their smiling photograph and they won't print any of the others," he whispered without letting the smile slip off his face.

I nodded once and turned my face towards the cameras, smiling brightly even as I nearly tripped on my dress. Clarence's hand tightened on mine and his muscles tensed, acting as a sturdy railing for me to hold on to and I managed not to wobble too noticeably.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, Clarence led us in a large curve towards the door and then back down the very long entrance hall that led to the dining room. The other half of the grand staircase met our procession, and we folded in like cars merging onto the freeway.

I smiled when I saw Princess Madeline walk towards us to cut in front. I remembered her saying she is never escorted, and always feels special walking in by herself. Apparently, her brother has had the opposite problem, historically.

We were now in line with the king and queen behind us and the princess bouncing on her heels directly in front of us. The gaggle of photographers long forgotten, we walked through the doors of the ballroom only as we were announced yet again. It really is impossible for anyone to forget a name around here, isn't it?

"His Royal Highness, Prince Alexandre, and Miss Genevieve Levin," a different man called out when it was our turn.

"Why did they announce you differently this time?" I asked Clarence, noting the addition of 'Royal Highness.'

His eyes twinkled as he smiled. "It's a long story. Basically, it's how many fancy, titled people are in the room."

I didn't have time to worry about his answer, instead focusing on the walk to our seats, which was one of the few things I remembered from the afternoon's lesson. I desperately wanted to pick up my skirt as I walked, but I could feel the king's eyes boring into my back, looking for any reason to reprimand me, so I pulled my shoulders back and tried to make myself as tall as I could, hoping not to trip on my dress again.

We finally completed our procession and Clarence escorted me up the steps to the platform where we would eat. Of course we have to be watched while we eat, because this isn't awful enough already. He stopped at the chair beside his sister and let go of my hand after placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

Hello again, butterflies. Can you find a new home?

"Don't worry," he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I'll be right over there if you need me. Just be thankful you get to sit beside Mom and not Dad."

"I'll be fine," I promised. "I've got Madeline." I was trying desperately to keep him from seeing the anxious heat rising into my face and the sweat forming on my palms. I could feel my heart flutter in my chest every time I thought about his lips brushing the back of my hand.

He winked as he walked past me to stand behind his own chair. We all stared straight ahead and waited for King Richard. I must have missed his arrival, because I felt the chair press into the back of my knees quite suddenly. Without missing a beat, I effortlessly bent my knees and descended onto the chair. One skill down.

A lot to go.