Page 36

Luc

Y ou’d better take good care of her! If not… a series of alternating gun and fist emojis followed. I’d never been the kind of guy to use emojis, but even I managed to pick up on the not-so-subtle meaning.

A tinge of relief moved through me upon receiving the text from Hailey that she’d made it back safe and sound. The next text, however, had made it clear that Hailey was going to be keeping an eye on things—as well as she could from Seattle.

I replied with a thumbs up. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks again for everything.

I set my phone down on the side table next to my reading chair in the library, a fire crackling in the nearby fireplace. It was evening, the argument with Ava still fresh in my mind. There was no chance I was going to be able to focus on my book, so I set it down on my lap and lifted my glass of whiskey.

How the hell could I have been so stupid as to think a woman like Ava would be open to me simply telling her what to do? Once more, she’d reminded me of her mother and her stubborn, headstrong, independent ways. I loved it, how could a man not appreciate a woman like that? But damned if those traits weren’t hard as hell to deal with under the circumstances.

Ava was going to stay—at least through the ball. Her words stuck in my head about how she would be going to the ball on “her terms.” I didn’t quite know what that meant, but there was no doubt in my mind that whatever Ava had planned, it wouldn’t make her father happy in the slightest. Maybe that’s exactly what he deserved.

I took another sip of my whiskey, trying to muster up the mental energy to pick up my book once more.

I didn’t read even a word into my attempt before an idea occurred to me. A smile took hold as the idea grew, allowing some clear relief. If Ava was going to go to the ball on her terms, then maybe I could help with that.

I picked up my phone, firing off a text to Kinley. Knowing her, she was well into an evening of work getting the princess’s dress ready for the Harvest Ball.

You busy?

The response came only a few moments later.

A bit in the middle of something. The text was followed by an emoji of a woman in a dress.

Mind if I swing by?

The response came in the reaction of a heart and I sprang out of my chair, setting down the book on the side table and grabbing my glass to freshen it up before leaving the library.

Minutes later, I was down on the bottom floor of the palace, a few of the staff still there finishing their tasks for the day. I reached Kinley’s workroom, the thick, wooden door closed. I knocked, and she called out for me to come in.

“God, this isn’t working.”

Her complaint greeted me as I stepped into the room. The space was cast in bright light, Kinley dressed in a pair of leggings and a T-shirt, her hands on her hips as she stood in front of the dress.

And what a dress it was. It was pink and poofy, something more suited to a barbie doll than a real woman. The thing appeared to be ninety-percent lace.

I shut the door behind me, Kinley taking a pin from the bun in her hair and sticking it into what seemed to me, to be a random place in the dress.

“OK,” she said, flicking her eyes in my direction for a moment. “I know you’re not a woman, but give me your honest opinion on this?”

“You sure you want that?” I asked. “I don’t have a problem being honest, and I’ve had a whiskey on top of that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it.”

“This is Ava’s dress for the Harvest Ball, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“It’s… pink .”

“That it is.”

“And lacey.”

“You’re right about that.”

“And it’s so… puffy.”

“All words I would use to describe this thing.”

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to tap into my limited knowledge of dressmaking.

“Did she have you make it like this?”

“Nope. This is the king through and through.”

“That explains it.”

She sighed, dropping into a chair across the room. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.” Kinley, as if realizing how strange it was that I was there, cocked her head to the side. “Wait, what’s going on? Something tells me that you haven’t developed a sudden interest in dressmaking.”

I shook my head, a small smile forming on my lips as I prepared to tell her the reason for my drop-in.

“Nope. Alaric had mentioned the dress before, said that he had something wonderful in mind, both feminine and traditional.”

She laughed. “There’s nothing traditional about this dress. That is, unless he’s planning on having the ball at Barbie’s Malibu dream house.”

“I didn’t know precisely what he had in mind, so I wanted to come down and take a look at it. It’s… more than I’d anticipated. How does Ava feel about it?”

“She’s trying to be a good sport, but there’s no hiding the way her face falls whenever she lays eyes on this mess. I’m trying everything I can to make it more modern, something Ava might actually like wearing. That’s a concept that the king doesn’t seem to have considered.” Her eyes flashed with a trace of panic as she realized what she’d just said and to whom she’d said it.

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied. “I completely agree. The reason I came down here was to talk to you about the dress situation. I had an idea and wanted to see if you’d be on board.”

“Is that right?”

“This dress was created in the king’s vision. But the thing about that, is the king isn’t going to be the one wearing it.”

“He ought to be,” she said, reaching over and tugging at one of the lacy puffs. She chuckled, likely at the idea of King Alaric wearing such a thing. “Seriously, this is so hard for me. I’ve never made something for someone to wear that they’d almost certainly hate. I mean, how is the princess going to feel confident in this monstrosity?”

I nodded, agreeing with her. “I want to fix that, it’s why I’m here.”

She smiled, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’m listening…”