Thomas was a man of his word when he said he hadn't even started causing trouble yet.

Every moment I least expected, every moment that I finally allowed myself to relax against my chair and enjoy the opera was the exact moment Thomas chose to stroke my shoulder, or rub his knee against mine. Without fail, I leaned away from him every single time, sitting up straighter in my chair with my fan constantly at the ready if his wandering hands should wander any father than my shoulder.

In front of me, Andrew and Adelaide kept whispering together, her too perfect smile glittering in the reflection of the stage lights. I took small pleasure right before the intermission when Adelaide leaned over once again, whispering louder and louder until Andrew finally leaned her way to listen. The queen must have heard because she shot Adelaide an annoyed look that was very nearly as disapproving as the one she'd fixed on me earlier. Everything about Andrew's body language said that he was growing tired with Adelaide's constant whispering, leaning farther and farther away from her as the first and second acts dragged on.

At the intermission, whatever reprieve I'd been hoping for was not to be. Despite the fact I'd been on my feet the moment the house lights rose, Thomas had held me back so we could all parade out of the royal box behind the king and queen. I didn't miss Adelaide's glowing smile as she emerged on Andrew's arm, for all the other opera guests to see once again. Gaggles of nobles greeted the king and queen along with the crown prince, creating a gauntlet around Andrew, the monarchs, and Adelaide.

"This is the part when I'm largely ignored while everyone tries to curry favour with my father and brother," Thomas said, an edge of bitterness in his voice, "If you need me, I'll be ignoring them all over there, near the drinks."

He kissed my hand in parting before I could protest, leaving me very much alone in the sea of nobility. While I watched the crowd milling around the elders of the royal family, I couldn't help but feel a shred of pity for the man who'd just spent the better part of the first act deliberately teasing me with his over-familiar touch. He was right - while people clamoured for a word with Andrew or his father, Thomas was left largely alone, chatting with William Weatherington and his sister as he lounged by the bar.

Realizing I'd been standing in the same place for far too long, I scanned the crowd for any sign of Xavier. I'd hoped to catch him somewhere alone, but I needed to pressure him into making a move towards Georgina sooner rather than later for both of their sakes. At the very least, we could stand together and laugh at all these ridiculous intermission power games. As I moved towards the far side of the room, looking around for any trace of that Marks-Whelan auburn hair, my eyes caught a pair of green ones.

My heart nearly leaped from my chest as Andrew excused himself from his conversation, leaving Adelaide behind with a well-dressed trio of older noble ladies.

"How are you enjoying the opera?" he asked, taking my hand to kiss it. I squeezed his fingers before he released me, not wanting to let go despite the dozens of eyes that followed his every move.

"I'd much rather be sitting next to you," I replied. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

"You'd need much more than a fan to bat me away if we were sitting next to one another," he said, his green eyes glittering as they held mine. I opened my mouth to say something, but lost whatever words were making their way out as his gaze dropped to my lips.

We stood there silently, Andrew staring at my lips while I held my breath. I knew he would never dare to make such a move in such a public place, but the sheer fact he was thinking about it was enough to stop the air in my lungs.

"Andrew!"

The shrill voice broke the spell as Dulciana flounced up beside us, an older man with dark, Ardalonian features behind her.

"I was hoping to present my uncle, Luis DeGallo," she said, shooting a smile towards the older man. Luis DeGallo offered a thin smile to Andrew as he bowed.

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting you, Ambassador DeGallo," Andrew said, shaking the older man's hand, "Although I've heard of your shrewd mind from my father."

"You are too kind, your Highness," the Ardalonian ambassador said, his English even more accented than Dulciana's.

"This is Elizabeth Marks-Whelan," Andrew said, gesturing my way. I dropped a curtsey for the princess, only for her to shake her head in annoyance, ignoring me.

"My uncle and I were just discussing how much we'd like for you to see one of our Ardalonian operas," Dulciana said, while the Ambassador glanced over at me with coldly calculating eyes. His gaze didn't linger, however, his lip curling in a sneer as he looked away.

"That would be wonderful, but-" Andrew replied. He reached towards me only for Dulciana to cut him off again, sidling between us before he could lift me from my curtsey.

"Perhaps we could go meet the rest of my country's delegation?" Dulciana said, turning her back to me. I could feel my cheeks flaming from embarrassment and rage as I rose. I couldn't bring myself to meet Andrew's worried eyes as I turned on my heel and stalked away from them, towards the bar.

"Well there she is," Thomas grinned as I approached. Anne and William turned around to greet me, but before I so much as uttered a word in reply, I seized the scotch glass from Thomas' hand and sucked back a fortifying gulp.

Thomas' grin widened as I handed the glass back to him, while William sputtered and Anne's eyebrows shot skyward. But for the first time all night, I didn't much care what anyone thought of me. I was too consumed by the shame and anger burning like an inferno in my chest. Thomas resumed whatever conversation I'd interrupted, allowing me to stew on my own in silence. When the lights dimmed and rose again, signalling the end of the intermission, I didn't hesitate when he offered me his arm to return us to the royal box, longing to be over with this farce of an evening.

***

When the final act had ended and the cast had bowed while we all clapped, I still hadn't managed to get a handle on my emotions. Despite the visual and auditory spectacle on display, I couldn't focus on anything except my anger. Just when I'd thought the evening couldn't get any worse, my heart had started hammering in my ears, nearly drowning out the music altogether.

Adelaide had somehow entwined her hand with Andrew's. I'd first noticed it in the middle of the third act, when she'd shifted yet again to whisper something to him. Her movement had opened a gap between their shoulders through which I could clearly see her white satin-gloved hand clasped in his. I'd waited for him to let her go, spending more time staring at the two of them than at the opera, but he didn't release her hand until he applauded when the curtain swung closed at the end of the final act.

Even Thomas' arm that had found its way around my shoulders hadn't been enough to distract me. I let it sit there, angry at him as well for dragging me into this. If Thomas hadn't given me his invitation, I'd have been sitting with Xavier, Georgina, and Annabelle, enjoying myself while actually watching the opera. Instead, I'd been forced to watch my prince holding someone else's hand.

For fear that I'd breathe fire instead of words, I kept my mouth shut when we all filed out of the royal box and made our way down to our carriage. Thomas kept slinging jibes my way, but once again, my hammering heart had nearly drowned out all sound from the opera lobby. When Andrew handed Adelaide into the carriage then held a hand out to me, I ignored it and climbed in by myself.

"Wasn't it wonderful?" Adelaide asked, as I settled in next to her.

"Spectacular," I said flatly, gazing out the dark window. I didn't care to hear what she thought of it, I just wanted to be back at the palace in the quiet of my room so I could throw something or beat up a pillow.

When our carriage lurched into motion and Thomas set to teasing Adelaide again, it was all I could do not to yell at the pair of them to shut up. As I tried to focus on anything that wasn't the irksome sound of Adelaide's carefully refined voice, my traitorous thoughts ran back to Dulciana and her blatant snub.

I turned my face even more towards the carriage window as the tears pooled in my eyes. What was happening to me? Why was I silently putting up with such rubbish? Why did I suddenly care what people thought of me? Most importantly, why had Andrew let Dulciana treat me that way? And why had he held Adelaide's hand through nearly all of the third and fourth acts?

I tried to stealthily wipe away the tears that overflowed as I blinked them away, pretending to tuck my hair behind my ears. I hoped my breathing didn't sound as jagged to my carriage-mates as it did to my own ears. I forced myself to focus on one breath at a time, the ride home seeming to take an eternity.

When we finally pulled up next to one of the palace carriage blocks, I made a show of fussing with my gloves and fan as Andrew helped Adelaide exit the carriage.

"Are you all right?" Thomas asked quietly, when I'd taken his hand to help me climb down. I simply nodded, afraid that my voice might betray me. I released his hand as soon as my feet had touched the ground, instead gathering my skirts to join the throng of debutantes in the entrance hall.

"Libby."

His voice was near enough to be quiet, but I didn't look towards the crown prince. The tears were swimming anew as I turned away from him. He wouldn't dare stop me to talk here, not when so many of the debutantes were lingering in the hopes of exchanging a few words with him or his brother. Adelaide was surely somewhere nearby, and if I laid eyes on her again tonight I might be tempted to rip her blonde hair out.

The sounds of quiet chatter died away as I rushed up the stairs, holding my breath to keep the sobs from escaping me. I kept my face turned towards the floor until I finally reached my suite.

"My lady! How was the opera?" Brenna sang, emerging from my bedchamber.

That was all it took for me to dissolve into sobs.