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The woman shook her head, croaking out, “You’re ready.” Then she placed her hand over her mouth.

I rubbed my lips together, my heart pounding.Please, no. Please, please, please.Slowly, I turned around to glimpse the back of the dress, and my heart sank as dread pooled deep in my belly. Because when I turned to see the back, I realized there was none.

The dress was backless.

41: Disfigured Disgrace

Every single scar, from years of merciless lashings in the basement of the Presidential Palace, was on full display. My back was a landscape of ugly scarred tissue, discolored and disfigured. Any part of me that felt like a princess disappeared.

“I—” I struggled to speak, my throat dry as desert sand. “I can’t wear this.”

Marissa whipped around the corner, angry as a hornet. “What do you mean you can’t wear—” Her voice dropped as her eyes caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Her lips parted as her eyes widened in shock.

I looked away from the mirror to face her, trying my best to choke down the tears that were threatening to come cascading down. “I can’t wear this,” I repeated.

Marissa took cautious steps forward, her eyes transfixed on the reflection in the mirror behind me. “What—how? Where—” She tripped over her words, unable to form coherent speech asthe features of her face changed from shock, to confusion, to horror, and then to disgust.

I closed my eyes. How could I have forgotten about my scars? How could I have been sostupidto forget the remains of years of abuse?How?Slowly, I opened my eyes again, my vision blurring. And all I saw in return was the revulsion painted across Marissa’s face.

“Are you even atruede la Puente?” she sneered.

“What?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “How could the First Daughter have scars like those? Who are you really?”

My lips parted, but I had no words for her. How do you explain that your parents hate you? That they beat you in the dark and leave you to starve? I took a deep breath. “IamMara de la Puente.”

“Liar!” Marissa snapped back. “You and Sasha are trying to cheat the North.”

“No, Iswear,“ I insisted.

“Mom!” I jumped at the sound of Wes’s voice. “Enough.” He wasn’t fully dressed yet, only wearing his black slacks while his white shirt hung open, unbuttoned, revealing the taut skin of his chest.

Marissa turned to face him. “This is an outrage. If she has no claim to the presidency, then this arrangement with Sasha is a farce. I will not—”

“Mrs. Calvernon?”

As if things couldn’t get any worse…they did. We all jumped at the sound of an unexpected voice. And when I looked to see who it was, mortal dread filled me. Because there, right in front of me, was Blondie.

Shit.

“Calista,” Marissa said. “What are you doing here? And what happened to you?”

Blondie was wearing a tight black dress that scooped way too low in the front and even lower in the back. Her blonde locks were a cascade of loose waves, while beautiful diamond earrings and a matching necklace completed her ensemble. She looked perfect, like a classic beauty. The only thing that ruined the image was the big white bandaging across the bridge of her nose, compliments of me, of course.

I saw the hint of blush color her cheeks as she replied flatly, “Training.” She tossed her hair back and lifted her chin. “President De’vor sent me to look for you. I heard your voice, and I came in. I didn’t know I was interrupting something.” Her voice sounded so light and innocent.

But I saw the moment her vision caught sight of me and the mirror behind me. Her lips parted—just an inch—and her eyes glimmered in silent victory. The corner of her lips tipped ever so slightly in a quick smirk that was gone in half a second, replaced with a look of mock concern. “Oh my goodness, Mara. Are you okay?”

Marissa jumped into action, reaching to the clothing rack and pulling out a dainty golden evening shawl. “Everything is fine, Miss Haeflinger,” Marissa said, the tension thick in her voice. Quick as a whip, she threw the shawl over my shoulders, covering my back. “Mara is perfectly fine,” she insisted as she walked away from me and back toward Calista. “You can tell President De’vor that I will be there momentarily. I’d very much like to speak with her as well,” she added as she gave me the side-eye.

My cheeks flushed with heat, embarrassment and shame filling me.

Marissa placed a hand on Calista’s back, guiding her out the door. “Of course, I would very much appreciate your discretion regarding anything you might have heard or seen, dear.”

Calista placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, of course. You know I would do anything for the North. Your secrets are safe with me,” she added with a smile.

“Thank you, dear.” And then she closed the door, shutting Blondie out.