Erica's teeth chatter while we walk down the stairs. Per requirements of our father and our father alone, she is two stairs behind me while I am five steps behind our butler. Why? I have no idea. At all. Every single thing that man does makes no sense, and I'm just trying to hold on to my sanity long enough for his tenure to run out.

Once I have the crown, I can get rid of this ridiculous insipid rule and every other outrageous requirement my father has set.

If I said any of this out loud, Erica would stop walking, throw her hands on her hips, and tell me, "Gemma, you can't get rid of everything at once! It will destabilize the country." And she'll say it in that way she does where she reminds me that it is actually my job to do the opposite. And no matter how much I understand that the people view the monarchy as a stabilizing force and all that other mumbo jumbo, I just can't fully get behind it.

I know she's right. And I've seen the studies and polls to back up the fact that we are functioning how we should and, despite my father's antics, the people want a monarch. I even funded one of these studies from an anti-monarchist group, just to be sure. Even they agreed. Begrudgingly.

I have to admit, for all of my father's faults, he is good to our people. He does care about them.

My problem is he cares about them far more than he cares about me. If he sees me as anything more than a pawn in his desire to 'secure the realm', I'll fall off my chair in surprise. He certainly has a way of showing it.

All of this is probably why I can't bring myself to care about being a stabilizing force for a whole nation. How can I think about effectively running a country when I can't even be an authoritative source of my own happiness? My father has too much control and no one wants to take it from him. So here I am, just waiting my turn.

"Do you think I look alright?" Erica interrupts my thought spiral when our butler stops to wait for us at the dining room doors. She smooths her skirt and clasps her hands in front of her, swishing her hips back and forth to make her dress to little twirls.

"More than alright," I answer. "You look lovely."

Not that it matters, if I'm right about what—or rather who—is through that door.

"Okay," she says with a smile. "You look great, too. The necklace really gives it that pop."

The necklace is from our mother, who always used to say, "You're strong enough to be whoever you want." My choice in wearing it was to remind her, and myself, that we can get through this. We will find a way to be who we want.

Somehow.

"Are you ready, your highnesses?" Santino asks, hands clasped behind his back.

I'm terrified by what's behind that door, but I give him a brief nod and stand still, head straight in front of me as the doors swing open and the artificially flickering light from the room floods the formerly dim hallway. Father seems to have had centerpieces and gold accents added to the room, which are normally reserved for visiting heads of state.

Erica gasps when she catches sight of the two men standing in the center of the room, my father a foot in front and two meters to the side of his guest.

Santino, who has only just pushed the door open, wastes no time backing away in a bow and closing the doors behind him as soon as we have stepped into the room. The last thing I see is a small wink.

I'm pretty sure he's gone before the doors are even fully closed.

"Welcome," my father begins. "Spencer, Duke of Caledon is here to join us for dinner this evening before the festivities begin tomorrow."

Which means I was right. All his promises to not show favourites and let me decide were nothing more than lip service. Platitudes to keep me calm.

Lies.

The Duke of Caledon breaks the silent death glare stare down occurring between me and my father. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you." He dips his shoulders in a deep bow.

Erica snorts under her breath and covers it up with a dainty cough. "Apologies, Your Grace. I seem to have come down with something."

"No apology necessary, Your Highness" he says with a second deep bow. "It is my hope you will be well by tomorrow evening's festivities."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss my sister's dinner for anything," she replies, glancing over at me with a discreet roll of her eyes. "I know she will appreciate having me by her side for such an important season."

"Indeed I will," I answer before my father can cut in. He'd never agree to Erica accompanying me, but he can hardly back down now that his favourite suitor is expecting the presence of my sister.

The way Spencer looks at Erica makes my skin crawl. All possessive and gross, gaze crawling over her like worms through dirt.

He supposedly wants to marry me? Or so my father says. But I'll need to be careful he doesn't transfer his affections to Erica. My father wants this alliance just bad enough to marry off whomever this man pleases. There's no way Erica wants to marry him. She wants to marry for love.

I do not want to marry at all, but I'll soon be the queen so see if I care.

Ugh. I have to admit, I care. I cannot marry this man any more than Erica can. We have to stop this. But everything in me is shaking. Either with fear or rage or quite probably both.

"Anabella?" My father addresses me, as always, with my first name. Which everyone is expected to use to refer to me. A name I really don't love at all.

How very fitting in this situation.

"Anabella, our guest has asked for a dance at the opening reception for your birthday festivities."

"And of course I explained to him that your time must be spent amongst all the guests," Erica cuts in. "So he has requested the second of the evening."

I turn my attention toward the man and his slimy grin. Then I redirect my gaze to a point on the wall just over his shoulder, praying the disgust doesn't register on my face. "Of course. It would be my honour."

And with that Father guides us to the table to eat, a meal with just the immediate family and his favourite choice for suitor. Come tomorrow morning, or even a couple hours from now, everyone will know Spencer was here this evening before everyone else. Father's favourtism will be obvious and it will influence everything.

I'm not even surprised anymore, just really tired and disappointed.

"I can't believe he did this," Erica whispers on our way to our seats. "He promised he wouldn't show favourites." It seems one of us is surprised by father's actions.

I fear I may have shielded her from too much of this for too long. Maybe that's for the best. It might be the only thing keeping me from running away: the need to protect Erica. To give her the life she deserves, the one our father should want for both of us but simply doesn't. Because no matter what we do, he won't see past the end of his particularly large nose.

"The rules have changed," I reply simply. "It isn't the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Keep your eyes open."

The chairs are pulled out and my gown presses into my hips as the uniformed man slides it back underneath me. Everyone is seated at the table and the order is given for dinner service. Let the dance begin.

The perfectly choreographed routine of the kitchen staff bringing out the courses is interrupted only by father and Spencer refusing to shut up.

Fortunately, the two of them don't need me to participate at all in order for them to engage in discussions of international politics and religion. Very wholesome dinner conversation with them.

Erica and I remain mostly silent unless directly asked a question. The two of them talk like old friends.

Finally, the dessert is placed in front of us and I can feel the end approaching. We might make it out of this relatively unscathed.

And I spoke too soon.

The rat-weasel man speaks to me but looks at my sister. "Would you be interested in accompanying me for a short walk in the gardens, Your Royal Highness, once our meal is concluded?"

My sister answers, taking advantage of our shared title. "I am sorry to say, sir, that I am not feeling well. I think it best if my sister escorts me upstairs. As planned." She sets her spoon down with a resounding 'clink' and smiles, folding her hands in her lap.

"Oh, I was—" He starts to correct himself and then stops. He's got more sense than I thought.

"Leonora, you are looking a little pale," I address her with her proper name so father doesn't explode in public. "I think it may be best if we retire, if that is agreeable to you, Father."

I refuse to call him 'Your Majesty' because a girl needs a little rebellion here and there. And this is the kind that will get me a tongue lashing and nothing more. Probably.

"I do feel that may be best," Erica agrees, placing her hand on the arm of her chair as though balancing herself from falling into a dizzy spell. "I think perhaps the excitement of the week ahead got the better of me. Wouldn't want to miss the events merely because I failed to care for myself."

"I do hope you feel better soon," the Duke of Caledon says as I push my own chair back and pull out Erica's.

"Thank you for the delicious dinner, Your Majesty," I say, guiding Erica up from her chair and out of the room. "I will have our butler communicate the events of tomorrow so no need to trouble yourself."

And then I turn to our delightful guest I hope never to see again and dip into a small curtsey. "I hope you have a wonderful evening. I look forward to our dance."

In no time at all, we're out the door and in the cool hallway. Finally, I can breathe.

"Was he here for me or you?" Erica asks, gripping my arm like it's the only thing holding her up.

She really does look pale. And her chest heaves with short breaths.

"Are you okay?" I test her forehead for a temperature and it feels normal, though a little sweaty.

"I can't be married off, Gemma. At least not to him." She gestures to the room we just left and I pull her along down the hallway to the nearest hidden staircase.

At least the nearest one I'm aware of. I probably should learn them all before I become the queen.

"He's here for me," I say simply, closing the door behind us. "I thought we'd convinced Father to avoid showing favourtism, but I gather he is trying to force my hand for his own ends."

"Reminding you who is currently in charge?" she scoffs. "Lest someone get the wrong idea?"

"Something like that." I sigh and sit down on the bottom steps. "What am I going to do?"

"We'll figure it out," Erica says, colour returning to her face and eyes narrowing with determination.

"You always were the best at fighting so long as the injured party wasn't you."

"F with me? Fine. F with my sister? I'll mess you up." She pulls her hands up into small fists and mimes throwing a punch. If it were real, it wouldn't even harm a small pigeon.

"I'm lucky to have you." I pull her down onto the step beside me and then wrap her in a hug.

We both sit there in silence for a few breaths. But we can't stay here long if we don't want to be found. So I stand and hold out my hand, pulling Erica to stand with me. "Want to come watch some television for a while? Take our minds off things?"

"I'll watch television," she agrees. "But only if you let me help you figure this out. Doesn't have to be tonight, but we need a strategy and a plan and to know every single thing we can about all the people dad invited. Do you know who's on the guest list?"

Erica has one speed once she sets her mind to something: lightning fast. There's no point trying to hold her back, so I just answer.

"I have some idea of the guest list. I wasn't paying that much attention once they cut my whole list in half to make room for all of Father's suitors," I admit. "At that point, who they were was... not that important."

"We'll figure it out," she says, pulling me into another death-grip hug. "I know we can. We just have to learn to be a step ahead of him. It's going to be okay, Gemma. I will help you get through this and everything will be back to normal in no time."

She lets me go and pulls out her phone, swiping her Instagram app closed so I don't see what she's been looking at. But I do see.

"Thanks, Erica." I ignore what I just saw on her phone and choose to return to our dilemma with Father. I don't know if she's right, I just know my life literally depends on it.

Erica's going to have to learn the rules of Father's game if we have a chance to take him down. It'll be a lot of work to get her caught up. But if there's anyone who can safely bring me through this, it's my feisty determined sister. And her enormous crush on Enzo Valentino.