Page 95 of A Slipper in the Smoke
Elena stared at him. Once more, her words had vanished.
“Are you quite all right, Princess Sofia?” Pip asked, his face twitching with concern.
“A little tired is all,” she managed. “Forgive me. I need a moment.”
She ducked away from him, searching for the bathrooms. This was madness. Ridiculous. She should just grab him and go. If Sparta struck now—
But she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t focus.
She ducked away into one of the bathrooms, grabbing hold of the sink to steady herself. She couldn’t even lock the door. Someone slipped in beside her—
“Breathe.” A gloved hand slid against her back, accompanied by a muffled voice. Snowdrop’s. “In, hold, out—”
“It’s Pip,” Elena gasped.
“What?”
“Pip. He’s Prince Phillippe. The whole time. It’s been him.”
Snowdrop paused, her hand frozen against Elena’s back. “Right.”
“Right?”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? He’ll listen to you. If you can just get him alone—”
“I lied to him,” Elena whispered. “He lied tome.”
Snowdrop waved her hand. “Everyone lies.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Elena, you’ve already assisted in taking a princess captive and sneaking into a palace. You broke into a general’s bedroom. You designed smoke-grenade slippers. You can talk to your boyfriend. Go on.”
Elena couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend.
Snowdrop sighed. She squeezed Elena’s shoulder. “Look at it this way,” she told her, “at least you might not have to say goodbye to him after all.”
Elena’s heart jumped at the possibility, only to quickly sink into her stomach.But he’s a prince,she realised.And I’m just me.
No wonder he didn’t invite her to Toulouse with him.
She still didn’t quite understand what Pip was doing when he got involved with her, but she trusted that there was a reason. You didn’t buy tickets for your conquests. It had been real. It had to be.
She took a deep breath.
“Just give me a minute,” she asked Snowdrop. “Go back out there. Don’t lose sight of him.”
It was impossible to read Snowdrop’s face beneath the mask, but Elena imagined she was smiling. “Spoken like a true rebel,” she said, and slipped out of the bathroom.
Elena turned to the sink. She yanked off her gloves and ran her hands under the golden taps to cool down. She didn’t dare splash her face and risk washing off the make-up. She braced herself against the marble side and breathed in and out carefully, staring at the reflection to remind herself that she was a princess, at least for the night, and she belonged here.
You can do this.
The door clicked open, and a crying girl in a silver dress rushed in.
Mariah.
