"Once upon a time, a princess needed a midnight snack," Cecily Degalt whispered, sneaking through the dark, marble halls. Foraging after hours had always been a favorite activity of hers, and she wanted one last scavenge in her own castle before everything changed. Tomorrow, she'd leave for distant Myrzel for her new life in an arranged marriage. Butterflies somersaulted in her stomach.

Would Prince Rakesh like her? Would she like him?

Entrenched in her thoughts, she turned the corner down a dark hallway and collided with someone. Opening her mouth to scream, Cecily felt the hand of her assailant press against her mouth while the attacker's other arm immobilized her failing limbs.

"For cripes' sake, Cece! It's me!"

The pale hand shifted away from her, and Cecily stared down at the mess of blonde hair atop her dearest friend's head. "Rory?"

"Of course!"

"What are you doing? You gave me such a fright!" Cecily stepped away from the petite girl only half Cecily's size. Cecily's heart pounded in her throat as she pushed her dark curls back in a vain attempt at composure.

"And you didn't defend yourself at all. Honestly, mate, have you learned nothin'?" Rory sighed and leaned against the wall, her commoner's accent thick. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd check and see how you were doin'."

Cecily sidled up next to her. "I couldn't sleep either, so I was on my way to the kitchens for something sweet."

"Your idea's better than mine. I figured I'd wake you for a few sparring matches." Rory shifted away from the wall, turning back in the direction of the kitchens. "Sweets it is."

A few moments of comfortable silence stretched between them. Cecily ran a hand along the castle wall, loving the feel of the stone, the contrast of the white marble beneath her umber brown fingertips. "Did you say goodbye to your family?"

Even in the dim hallway, she saw Rory's face shift into a glower. It always did when someone mentioned family. "I don't want to talk about it."

Cecily opened her mouth but then closed it with a snap. Rory never said more than she wanted to, not even to Cecily. "Have you packed?"

"Eh. I didn't have much to pack, now did I?"

Cecily paused, drilling Rory with a suspicious glare. "You packed the dresses, right?" Rory didn't stop, but Cecily saw her shoulders tense. "Oh my word, Rory—you packed the dresses, didn't you? Tell me you packed the dresses."

Rory cast a sly grin over her shoulder, and Cecily let out a breath of relief. "Of course I packed the dresses. My whole cover story revolves around those blasted monstrosities."

Cecily stacked her hands on her hips, pursing her lips. "They're beautiful, and you know it."

Rory let out a snort and turned through the archway into the kitchens. Cecily bounced after her, stifling a giggle.

"I wonder what kind of sweet rolls Mrs. Renders made today. Think she tried to hide them from us one last time?" Rory pulled out a match and lit a nearby lantern.

Cecily's eyes drank in the familiar room. "It's hard to believe this is the last time we'll do this."

"You don't think Myrzel has a baker?" Rory wandered off to where the sweet rolls were kept, opening the cupboard with a squeal of delight. "She made cinnamon! Greatest. Day. Ever."

"We're moving to Myrzel, I'm getting married to a stranger, and you have to pretend to be a lady-in-waiting."

"I still think it's bizarre they won't allow their portraits to be painted."

"And they think it's bizarre that we do," Cecily countered. "Still, I'll miss this."

Rory rolled her eyes. "It's Myrzel, not the Foul Forest. They have kitchens."

Cecily stifled a shiver at the mention of the forest of dark magic that fueled her nightmares. "But it won't be the same." She accepted the sticky roll from Rory and worried her lower lip. "I'm going to be queen. They may not even let me—"

"Hold your tongue." Rory swatted her arm. "Are you listenin' to yourself? You're goin' to be queen. No one is goin' to be lettin' you do anythin'. You'll be the one in control. Well, except for Prince Rakesh since he'll be king."

"But what if he's a tyrant? What if he's fat and ugly? Or worse, what if he's gorgeous, sweet, and everything I've ever wanted, but he thinks I'm ugly?" Or big? Or stupid? Cecily eyed her sweet roll, wondering if she should forgo it to avoid expanding her already curvaceous body.

"You're beautiful; he'll see that. If he's awful, Gene and I will carry you away into the sunset and find you a new prince," Rory said, flinging her arm out and throwing back her head.

"Will he be in the carriage with us?" Cecily pictured the red-headed guard bouncing along in the carriage with them, his buoyant personality fitting Rory and Cecily's mood to a T.

"Yeah, he's on carriage duty with Percy. They'll switch back and forth between the two carriages during our travel." She rolled her eyes, and Cecily moaned.

"Not Percy! Why does he need to be there? We'll have two guards with you and Gene."

Rory shook her head and hopped up onto the counter—something Mrs. Renders would never allow. "I'm supposed to be pretendin' to be one of your ladies-in-waiting. I can't be that and a guard. Your father wants me by your side."

"Still. Percy? He's so . . . boring."

"And arrogant."

"And weird," they said together, laughing.

"Maybe we can make Muriel keep him company," Rory said, her lips twisting into a devilish grin.

"I don't know why you don't like her. She's not that bad. Besides, Doreen is far more pliable. She can't say no to anyone or anything." Cecily reached out and tugged at Rory's black trousers. "Do you sleep in these things?"

"No." Rory shifted her leg out of Cecily's reach. "I just wanted to do one last sweep before sleep."

"How quaint," Cecily drawled, rolling her eyes at Rory's rhyme. "Are you going to be this strict in Myrzel? They have their own palace guards, you know."

"Don't care. Your safety is my whole life's purpose." Rory placed her hand over her heart and dipped her head in a bow before snapping back up. "Besides, now that Humphrey and your parents are on their way to Opea, I'm the only one left to keep an eye on you."

"You're a peculiar one." Cecily yielded to the delicious aroma of the sticky roll, stripped off a layer, and popped it into her mouth.

Rory jumped down from the counter, stuffing the last of her bun into her mouth and speaking around chews. "Takes one to know one." She reached out and tugged one of Cecily's dark chocolate curls.

"Ow! Hey, no fair." Cecily swatted her hand away and lunged for Rory's head, running her hand over it, attempting to make the white-blonde hair lie flat. Rory didn't swat her away, but Cecily's efforts were fruitless. Nothing could ever make Rory's boyish hair behave.

"Maybe the Myrzellians have something that could tame this fluffy beast." Cecily clenched the rest of her sticky roll between her teeth and pressed both hands on top of Rory's head.

"Lay off! You're getting my hair sticky. It has a mind of its own. That's why I keep it so short."

"I know, but . . . it's so . . . unladylike. I've never met a noblewoman with so little hair." Rory said nothing, and Cecily forced herself to ask the question she feared most. "What if I'm an awful queen?"

"You've been trainin' to be queen your entire life. This is what everythin's been for."

"I know, but what if I'm not any good at it? What if he doesn't like me?"

"If he doesn't like you, I'll kill him. As for being good at it . . ." She pondered a moment and then shook her head. "No, I don't think there could be anyone better for a queen."

"You're biased," Cecily said, grinning.

"You have to remember you are queen. It's your job to take charge." Rory reached out and tapped Cecily on the forehead. "It's all in there."

"How do I do that?"

Rory snorted. "I don't know—you just do it. When we get to Myrzel, you won't be the youngest of four—and the only daughter—anymore. You'll be the future queen of the country. You're marrying the prince to cement Dellsby and Myrzel's alliance. That comes with a bit of heft, don't you think?"

"I guess. I just hope they like me." Cecily stifled a yawn.

"What's not to like?" Rory gestured to the door. "You should get back to bed, though. Tomorrow starts a long journey."

"Says the girl on the same journey. Why don't you need sleep?"

"You know I never sleep. Cat naps are enough." Rory hopped up and down, showing off her energy. "I don't need twelve hours of beauty rest like you do."

"That's because you're already as adorable as can be." She smooshed Rory's face between her hands, speaking in a tone she'd use with an infant.

Rory shoved her hand away, smiling. "Try that again, and I'll take you down."

"Oh, you can't touch me. I was trained by the best woman in the King's Guard."

"The only woman in the King's Guard." Rory winked. "I think I could take her."

"I don't know. She talks about herself in third person a lot. I'm pretty sure she's deranged."

"Oh, she's definitely unhinged," Rory said, nodding. "I'm always saying, 'That Rory is a basket case. She'll crack any day now.' Thinkin' she can train a princess to be a warrior."

"And that princess thinks she can make a lady out of Rory. It's thinking, not thinkin'. Try to remember." Cecily pushed away from the counter and started toward the door, laughing. "This is why we're so good together, Ror . . . we balance each other out."

"Mmhmm." Rory stepped up alongside her. "Your crazy is just different enough from my crazy that in the end we almost seem sane."

Cecily grinned. "Almost."

And that's chapter 1 of the published version of A Stolen Crown! You can (pre)order your copy now by going to www.swanitude.com/my-books.html  and clicking on any of the links!