Thanks to my parents, I had several extravagant dinners and fund-raising galas under my belt, but I'd never attended a party as lavish as a prince's engagement. Dr. Rustad, Helena, she insisted, was not the sort to half-ass anything, be it her critique of my final paper or the mistake she was convinced I was about to make. She went all out to ensure my sorry behind was dressed for the occasion.

Until her makeup artist prepped me I had no idea how heavy-handed I applied everything ever designed to go on a woman's face. If faces were food and artists were chefs, the perky brunette baked with a base of puff pastry; fine, delicate layers of primer and powder, while I dispensed the necessary finesse of handling cake batter. An hour of flinching and too much blinking as she penciled my eyes and rolled curls with Becky's tenderness resulted in an attractive young woman.

A woman.

Not the nervous high school kid I was often confused with at frat parties, not the skanky college girl my foreign classmates assumed. I laid my manicured nails against my blushing cheek and smiled in the mirror. My world had shattered into a million little pieces, but I finally had the resolve to paste them back together.

Painted to perfection, I squeezed into a silver gown borrowed from Helena's daughter and hopped in the limo, giddy as a senior on her way to prom. Helena urged the driver forward and I reclined into stiff leather, imagining the prom I'd never attended.

Burgundy twilight climbed the streetlights at the base of the palace hill. In lieu of the event, surrounding roads had been cordoned off. Past nine, only invited guests were allowed access to the elaborate staircase leading to the Royal Palace. The front façade of the royal residence, with its grand pillars and clean brick arches, held a golden glow in its bricks as the sky deepened. Since Queen Joronn took control she'd expanded the building's wings, revamped and upped the total number of rooms to a more cozy 250 and had, I'd heard around campus, recently completed a small zoo on newly purchased land.

Why anyone would go through so much trouble to fix what wasn't broken—and why anyone would let her—was beyond me, but I didn't have time to wonder. My valkyrie chaperon, who'd had the intensity of her blue eyes amplified by thick black liner, was scowling.

"Don't burst into tears at the sight of him, girl. You'll ruin your mascara." The good doctor spoke through the folds of a painted fan as we stepped into the April evening. The night was remarkably warm. A day rife with daffodils and spring lingered on as a sweet nocturnal breeze.

"I'm more concerned about Marta's dress," I said. And I was equally terrified about damaging her heels, necklace and everything else she'd graciously loaned.

"Not one of my favorites," Helena admitted, tapping her fan lightly against my collarbone. "Although her husband would argue otherwise about a neckline like that."

"Not too much, is it?" I asked, giving the fabric a half-inch higher tug over my cleavage.

"Sal won't find you terribly immodest. You're as pretty as a young Freyja." Resonating laughter brushed me along toward a dark car waiting for ours to leave. Then the warrior I wasn't clasped my shoulder. "Be aware that my influence ends beyond those stairs. Anything occurring thereafter is neither mine nor my son's responsibility. Joronn may be queen, but she is half the mother I am."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember to smile, Allison. You've got plenty to be happy about, with or without a man." She headed to the stairs with her husband, a tall man whom I'd never met.

Salvig Rustad followed his father onto the street, searching for the date he'd never seen, though I was hard to miss as the waning sun stretched across sea and building alike to tangle its rays in my dress.

Sal was handsome in an old-fashioned movie star kind of way, with a strong nose and hawkish auburn eyes whose expression seesawed between eager and intimidating. His dark hair had been slicked back, drawing attention to a pointed chin and high cheekbones. The sharpness softened some as he jogged over like a bouncy Great Dane pup: all legs and gangly cheer. Though tall, he wasn't fit enough to win a spot on one of Becky's pinups back home. That is, until he smiled. Every little fault disappeared in his wide, dimpled grin.

Thanks to his mother's aides, he wouldn't be able to fault me, either. My confidence surged even as my stomach grumbled a reminder that I hadn't eaten since lunch. Trying to be graceful, I attempted a curtsy paired with a dainty nod. "'Evening, Mr. Rustad."

"My father's name," he said. "Please, call me Sal." The ensuing bow was so low his fingertips skimmed rosy cobblestones. "Milady is Allison Stevens, the American girl?"

"Allie's fine," I mumbled, blushing when his lips met my hand.

He smiled. "Beautiful either way."

In that moment—and I hated admitting it because I hated thinking about him—Sal was the knight in shining armor Aaron wanted to be for me. I'd never known a man to be so formal nowadays, but then again I'd never been to such a formal party. Maybe this was how they all began: all pleasantry and ceremony, at least until corks popped.

A flash of gold lace invitations at the top of the stairs set us on a luminescent garden trail. Teakettle roses of multicolored splendor brought to life circus shrubbery lining the walk. Hidden by hedges ahead of us, a band performed Sinatra. My heart jumped into my throat.

"This isn't an indoor event?" I asked. How was I supposed to talk to Nik behind closed doors if there weren't any?

Salvig frowned, perplexed. "Why would it be? It's a beautiful night." Twilight was gorgeous—tall ships rode the horizon as city lights winked on—but that didn't put my mind at ease as he towed us off the brick footpath.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "We don't have to go in. Nik and I went drinking a few nights ago. He's already gotten my best wishes. If you need more time ..."

"More nervous than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs," I explained, feeling my palms start to sweat. "C'mon."

Once I'd accepted his proffered arm, he straightened his tie and quietly said, "I'm told you are in love with our prince. How does such an affair begin?"

"It wasn't an affair." As we walked past a wolf made of roses my heel readied itself to punch a hole straight through his nearest, polished shoe if he insisted it was. I was sick and tired of everyone acting like I was some kind of siren who'd drowned Nik in the deep. Then I remembered my manners and replied soft and curious, "He called us that?"

"He doesn't talk about you."

The words stung an old wound. "Then who says I'm in love with him?"

"The date I cancelled, Unni."

"Well, I'm not," I insisted primly. The tension coursing through my veins was likely  due to low blood sugar or anticipation of future conversation. Either way, there was no faulting him for my mood, so with a collected smile I continued walking. "Helena never mentioned a girlfriend."

"My mother would recognize the existence of trolls as an endangered species before acknowledging my relationship with a woman who spends her days baking cakes; wouldn't even let Unni submit a proposal for the Prince's wedding."

I whistled. "Your mom must've been assembled at the same factory as mine."

He grinned. "Mine came preloaded with easy to push buttons."

"Exactly.  It's not like I picked a toad for my future husband. A good guy turned out to be a prince, that's all."

"You could do worse," he agreed. "Meanwhile, I can't do any better than Unni. She's incredible. Any one else would be a downgrade, sorry."

"It's fine," I said, pushing Josh out of my mind. "And I have done worse. I know enough now to recognize a good man when I meet him. Nik's just not my good man, I guess."

A mournful cry lifted into newly emergent starlight. When that winsome voice struck a song tonight a thrill teased my heart rate skyward. My heel snagged a stray rock. I slipped.  A second cry was low and so muffled my head bobbed between past and present.

The church was abandoned to the elements, overrun with wild things and falling back into the sea, but I was drunk and drugged and running through the graveyard with glass in my feet and inside those doors had always been a safe place. But tonight, tonight the white doors were stained by rusted locks and the ocean breeze rattled through the grass and almost, almost masked the scrape of claws on crumbling shingles.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, regripping Sal's arm. For the next few steps my feet ached with the sharp wet relief that came from cutting my heel open enough to pry the last shard loose.

My escort tilted his head, listening.

We carried on through the hedge animals, my head swiveling more than a nervous owl's. Finally, the bird wailed again. 

"There!" I pointed.

 A glass dome the size of a small museum rose from the grounds on our right. In the gentle glow of an inner light perched the drowsy outlines of slumbering birds- and behind them the glint of fanned green and gold filigree.

"They have peacocks?" I asked.

"And a hundred other species." Sal reeled me back toward the garden path. "During the remodel period, Queen Jorron followed an extensive vision for what the old world in the modern day should look like: renovated the stables, made expansions to include a public zoo and menagerie. Wants to keep people coming, keep them interested. You should see her art gallery, what a treasure! We could go, if you can stomach an exhibit centered on love."

"She's something of a collector, your queen?"

"Her life fell to ash when the palace did. Her husband died a broken man after Nik disappeared; first his son, then his mother passes, followed by the Queen's late, unfortunate miscarriage. He burned the place to the ground, perished in the flames. Didn't you hear of it?"

I shook my head. "Ashamed to admit you're totally right about me being a downgrade to Unni. I'm still young and dumb and when that occurred I was even younger and dumber. I didn't pay much attention to the history being made around me. I might've seen it on the news or read about it in the paper, and said, "Oh, how tragic" in conversation then walked out the door to go for a run and meet up with my boyfriend."

"You'd never have time to breathe if you watched the news all day," Sal said. "I don't follow all the American news, either, and I certainly don't remember it all nor do I cry for everyone."

"So what happened to the Queen?"

"Couldn't stand to walk the same halls as if it were a happier time, so when the time came for rebuilding she changed them, then took a great interest in gathering things that couldn't leave her, mostly animals and artwork. When my mother addressed her about altering a historical landmark so harshly, Queen Joronn claimed that as a part of history, she had every right to make the palace more accessible, interesting, and safer than the original. To tell you the truth, I believe she snapped."

"She's got a real eye for finding the beauty in a breakdown," I observed in somber appreciation, glancing back towards the avian addition. "Have you visited the menagerie yet?"

"It's filled with birds." When I looked inquisitively at Sal, him for all intents and purposes a human falcon, he frowned. "They poop everywhere."

The walkway curved around a lighted fountain before opening onto a crowded parquet dance floor. The pleasant jabber of mingling partygoers hit us in an abrupt roar, like stumbling across a river in dense woods. At least two hundred people chatted and danced. Dozens more wound through the garden.

The tinkling click of heels and hellos drowned out my rumbling stomach. I scouted the perimeter for signs of a snack bar. Nothing.

Dr. Rustad had scolded me for eating only a handful of grapes when we were getting ready, but I'd been loath to ruin my lipstick with food larger than bite-size, so grapes it was. Now, I'd draw a scarlet letter across my forehead if it scored me an ounce of smoked salmon, stuffed eggs or whatever hors d'oeuvres the waiters would be passing around.

"We get appetizers, right?"

My date leaned against my shoulder. "Important guests dined earlier, but I'm sure there will be a bite of dessert or caviar."

"I don't need anything fancy. A cube of cheese is fine with me." A gilded picture frame and the pair of girls taking a selfie in front of it caught my eye.

Sal chuckled. He might have even said something else to the space I used to occupy, before he found me standing in front of a large image of the engaged couple propped beside the stage. Annelise, pretty in pearls, her lips pressed against the side of Nik's handsome smile. They made a perfect couple. Probably make perfect babies, too.

"I am sorry," Sal murmured, palm a steering pressure on my shoulder. "It's a tragedy, when a relationship builds on cracked foundation. Where is the trust when your partner has lied from the start?"

"Why'd he lie?" I asked.

Sal shrugged. 

Before my hunger-induced rage could badger an answer out, my heels hit the dance floor and we were waltzing. Sal steered; we moved swiftly but stiffly, him a lion and me a lame, skittish antelope, constantly turning my head back toward the stage.

In the clubs music pumped and bodies clashed and I wiggled my tush like an elephant and no saw because we were sardines packed in a sweaty, alcoholic tin. Here, I actually regretted refusing all Aaron's dance lessons back in high school. A pang of guilt coursed through me. Aaron was probably a good guy, I thought, made mistakes but none more awful than mine; the only difference between him and Logan was that I knew he wasn't mine.

Salvig granted me silence as I limped to and fro with bad posture and weird stiff arms, but two songs later his dismay came to the forefront. "Have you danced before?" he asked.

"I've never been drunk enough to think that I could."

He grimaced. "We'll stay on the fringes then."

"Lead me wherever the food's at, Captain." I tapped my foot besides his, trying to unwind. "These puppies are going on cruise control."

He grinned and rotated us in a circle unsuited for the sultry waltz replacement. As we wobbled past his beaming mother I got the feeling he was making a strong attempt at appeasing her.

"Why'd she want me to be your date?" I whispered as we whirled passed. "She knows I'm not here to romance you. I mean, you're sweeping me off my feet, but I won't be swept, you know?"

"An American is high on her list of eligible bachelorettes." I opened my mouth to cast the first stone, but Sal set my back against his chest and wrapped his arms around mine for a warm moment. Minty breath tickled my hair. "She's stressing me something fierce. I'm planning a proposal but haven't been able to break the news."

To think I once had a similar problem. I wished I still had a similar problem as Sal propelled me forward. Guessing a spin was standard, I twirled and returned to his embrace. "You're not locked into an ironclad contract too, are you?"

His laugh clanged like steel pipes through an air shaft. A stern-faced woman wearing a necklace worth more than my college tuition locked eyes on us. Careful not to leave a powdery impression, I hid my face against his shoulder.

"Days of old titled me a lord; my presence now is no more relevant than a baker's. Folks outside those circles don't much care. Reputation makes you stand out. I'm beginning to get respect among the socially high-ranked, but I would prefer a lifetime in Unni's bakery washing pans and decorating pastries"—wrinkling his nose, he waved at the crowd—"to this."

My hips didn't lie, but they did lose a little oomph at his comment. If only Logan felt the same. More than once I'd dreamed of his arrival at my doorstep, ready to surrender his crown for a quiet life in Boston.

I plastered on a smile to counteract Sal's defeat. "When you love someone with your unshakeable resolve, people come around. Helena will, too."

His lips puckered like he'd sucked a lemon. "She's set in her ways and, being a tenured professor, very used to getting them."

I clung to his arms through a shaky salsa, my movements as unappetizing as a rotten tomato, although even that tempted my empty stomach. "If Unni is anything like your mother, she'll hold her own."

He looked so disappointed. "I don't want to marry my mother."

"I'm sure they're very different people." I nudged his elbow, determined to cheer him. "A little disagreement is healthy. Imagine if they agreed on everything."

"I'd be an unfortunate man."

"You kind of already are, at least in my mind."

"How so?"

"Since coming to Oslo this one white shirt of mine has been the victim of so many cafeteria 'accidents' I consider it tie-dyed at this point. Point is, I'm not popular, but I'm not in trouble. No wife to please your mother and no ring to quell your girlfriend? A man your age is in hotter water than a Maine lobster in July."

Sal laughed and gave a gentle push that had me stammering apologies to a teal-suited senior citizen I'd accidentally hip-checked. In return I wagged my finger at his mischievous smile. The pointer, not the middle one, because I wanted to at least try acting civilized.

He collected my hands in his. "I don't know how to tell her. My mother that is. You know what she's like. I know how to ask Unni, although tips are appreciated."

"We're at my ex's engagement party. I'm the last person to ask for romantic advice."

As we swung through better dancers I kept an eye out for wait staff and attempted to appear dignified despite the butterflies filling my empty stomach. Come song's end the band set aside their instruments and asked for our attention. The time to confront an otherwise unpleasant truth had arrived.

"My mother," Sal pressed, searching my eyes for a scrap of relevant information.

Light applause summoned the queen and designated lovebirds. Annelise stepped forward with her hand on her fiancé. Nik filled out his tux well, clearly he'd been keeping up with his meals again, but a haggard redness tinted his eyes as though he'd strung together a couple all-nighters.

"Goodbye, appetite," I muttered, unable to tear my eyes off the man waving to his audience.

Salvig's chin nestled into my curls. "She's watching," he said, discreetly turning me toward his mother. Helena smiled across the floor.

Sending a reassuring wave her way, I patted his arm in a gesture of camaraderie. "Let's both tell 'em before the clock strikes midnight and we turn back into chickens. Tell her how you feel about Unni and what your plan is. If she doesn't accept your wishes, that's too bad. She'll miss out on some adorable grandkids."

His restrained a laugh bounced my shoulders. "The baby card. Clever. I think I'll do as advised. What's the worst she does in a public place?"

I spared him my assessment of the fair-haired woman a shield away from starring in a Richard Wagner opera.

The queen tapped the microphone and asked for quiet.