Page 6 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
“But what if I—”
“No,” she repeated, sounding even more final than the first. “I know you’ve had your disappointments, but you can’t stand in the way of your sister’s future happiness.”
The words landed like a blow. Did she really think I was trying to stop the wedding because I wasjealous?“I’m not trying to—”
“Frederick, enough of this nonsense,” she snapped.
I flinched and looked away from her.
“I forbid you from interfering with this wedding. In fact, I would prefer you keep your distance from Brendon.” Her voice softened as she added, “I suggest you find some way to occupy yourself, take your mind off these unnecessary worries.”
She floated out of the room, ever graceful and poised, no traces of our argument lingering in her stance or smile. After all, she’d clearly thought she’d won—that I would give up and obey her, leaving Franny to the fate she’d accepted long ago.
But one other person had a say in the wedding.
Chapter Three
If Mother hadn’t explicitly forbidden me from meeting with the prince, my whole plan would have been easier. I could have gone to welcome him early, pulled him aside, and talked to him directly about sisters, cousins, or other potential replacements. And if he didn’t want to talk to me, well … there was always Plan B.
But I didn’t know if Mother had told anyone else about her decision. That made leaving the castle harder since I might be under scrutiny by the guards and staff. So, I had to get creative.
Thank the gods no one found me raiding Franny’s closest or there would have been a lot of uncomfortable questions. Like: what are you doing in here? Why are you trying on your sister’s clothes? Do you really think you can pull offthatdress?
Where my wardrobe was mostly blacks, grays, and reds, three-quarters of Franny’s was various shades of pink, everything from delicate cotton candy to a vibrant, eye-searing monstrosity. Since I didn’t want to stand outtoomuch, I chose a subtle blush shade. Though we had similar slender frames, I lacked certain assets, causing the bodice to droop. I used the velvet pouch I always carried on me and some of her rolled-up stockings to fill it out. Unfortunately, that made it pull tight across my broader shoulders, which meant I had to keep my arms close to my sides or risk ripping a seam.
The skirts were nice though. They created a swishing breeze and provided some breathing room. I twirled in front of her mirror,practiced curtseying, and danced with a fake partner.
At the top of her wardrobe, Franny had stashed a wig she’d worn years ago when she’d lost a bet and had to shave her hair. It sat on a fake head, a perfect replica of her dark, almost black curls, styled in a simple updo. My own dark hair was short enough that I didn’t have to worry about it slipping out from under the wig’s edges.
Everything else in place, I settled down at her vanity and eyed the tools available. I didn’t know how to use most of the makeup, but I at least needed a thick layer of foundation to hide any traces of stubble. I also lined my eyes in black and painted my lips with a pink slightly darker than the dress.
Looking in the mirror, I had to admit that it wasn’t too bad. I didn’t necessarily look like Franny—her eyes were bigger, her nose was smaller, and I had a squarer face and jaw—but I could be mistaken for her from afar.
I grabbed a fan and hid the lower half of my face with it, fluttering my eyelashes coquettishly. No one would ever know.
I considered wearing a pair of her heels but nixed the idea. First, I had no idea how to walk in them. Tripping down every stair would definitely draw attention. Second, none of them would fit anyway. Besides, Franny was a few inches shorter than me, so without the heels we were about the same height. As long as I didn’t move too much, the skirts would hide the edges of my boots.
I opened the door to see if the bustle in the hallways had calmed down at all. When no one scurried past me, I sighed in relief. They’d probably all shifted focus from wedding preparations to afternoon chores. I still had to be careful as I slipped through the halls. I didn’t completely escape unseen, but the few servants who glimpsed me either assumed I was Franny, were too busy to ask questions, or decided the prince cross-dressing was above their pay grade.
A guard did stop me on the way out the front door, and I held my fan up in defense mode.
He bowed his head respectfully. “Would you like an escort, Your Highness?”
I’d left the castle at all hours of the day without anyone asking me that before. In my surprise, I promptly replied, “No need.”
It wasn’t until the guard’s eyebrows rose that I realized I hadn’t bothered to disguise my voice. “Very well, Your Highness.” Although he’d used the same title, his tone had shifted slightly. He didn’t say out loud ‘oh shit, you’re actually the prince,’ but I could read it in his eyes.
Blushing, I gathered up my skirts and strode away. If I was lucky, he would chalk this up to royal dumbassery and wouldn’t spread any rumors. Even if he did spread rumors … Well, I’d had worse said about me.
Thankfully, the stable hands were less attentive than the guards. No one batted an eye as they helped me saddle and prepare Franny’s horse. One even helped me mount, which was good because I’d never ridden side-saddle before. I only realized after sitting on the horse that I’d selected an evening dress, not a riding habit, but no one voluntarily took on the role of fashion critic.
I made it off the castle grounds without anyone else questioning me and headed off to intercept my sister’s future ex-fiancé.
The quickest path between the capitals of Bane and Woe was the main trade road. It connected all five kingdoms and boasted marketplaces, award-winning restaurants, and the best inns each country had to offer. There was no reason for the prince and his people to take any other road, so all I had to do was follow it until I found them. They were scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning, so they couldn’t be too far away.
The ride was aggravatingly slow. Primrose was a fussy mare who liked to prance and didn’t appreciate it when I urged her to go faster. I wanted to take my own noble steed, Chester, but that would have drawn more attention, so I was stuck with Franny’s mount.
The sun was setting by the time I spotted signs of the prince and his party at The Tipped Over Cup. Staff ran around an ostentatious golden carriage, trying to figure out how to fit the oversized conveyance into the undersized stable.
