To Steal a Prince Read online

  “Remember to breathe.” Varna takes a reading, then lets the cuff relax. “That’s better. Give him time. His heart’s just as big as the rest of him.”

  Now I am annoyed. It’s hard to dislike Nic after such a testimonial. Varna runs me through another battery of tests. He shines lights at me, pokes me and prods me, but doesn’t find anything wrong.

  “Remarkable,” he says as he packs his bag. “I saw photos of the crash. I wouldn’t have guessed that anyone survived, let alone escaped with a single scratch. You aren’t even sore today?”

  I shake my head.

  “You’re a lucky girl, Grace. Let me know if anything starts hurting. I’m sure Damon will let you stay as long as you’d like, but you could leave now if you want to.” By the glint in his eyes, I can tell he doesn’t expect me to.

  Varna hurries to the door. In a palace this big, I’m sure he has more patients to attend.

  “Thank you,” I blurt out.

  He pauses on the threshold, then bows low. “Good luck, Grace.”

  Then I’m alone.

  I wish Gabe were here. He could tell me what to do next. I don’t want to leave Damon, but part of me is afraid to stay here. The room is bright, airy, and quiet as a tomb. I need shadows to cover my movements, dim lights so no one can quite remember my face. In my first few minutes of meeting Damon, I wrecked his 4.8-million-dollar car. I’ve never had more than 48 dollars in my bank account at any one time. How can I stay in a place where the showerhead probably costs as much as Gabe’s flat?

  Walking onto the marbled terrace, I squint in the sunshine. I have a view of green hills that roll away from the palace. Damon would probably let me go there, if I wanted. I’m not sure what I would do. Pick wildflowers? Frolic? But why should I get to do that when people in the city are fighting for every inch of space they can get? I turn my back on the incredible view. I don’t deserve this.

  Grabbing my bag, I stride to the door. It’s time to leave, whether Damon likes it or not. The knob turns before I reach it.

  The prince enters, almost plowing into me. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there.” His eyes flick over my bag. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yes, actually. I think it’s time I went home.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” Sadness flashes over his features so fast that I’m sure I imagined it. “Will you at least stay for dinner?”

  Why is it so hard to refuse him? He’s probably never been rejected in his life, and he deserves to be refused at least once. Still, his face is so eager. I can’t leave him just yet.

  “All right. One dinner.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll inform the dining staff.” He grins at me, and his pleasure is so infectious that I can’t help but smile back. How does he do this to me?

  “It will be a formal dinner, but don’t worry about mixing up the salad and dessert forks. No one will notice. Just try to have fun.” Damon gestures to someone in the hallway. “I’ve enlisted Eris to help you get ready.”

  To my horror, the girl in gray enters. She adjusts her red hair, flashing me a defiant look.

  “Grace, this is Eris. Eris, this is Grace Sparrow.”

  The girl curtsies. “How do you do, Lady Sparrow?”

  “Fine.” I school my expression. Just what I need, another person who doesn’t like me.

  “Eris will escort you to the dining room when it’s time. I’ll leave you to prepare.” Damon starts closing the door.

  “Wait!” I cry.

  Damon freezes. “Yes?”

  I try to breathe. I don’t really want to be shut in with an angry maid. “What am I supposed to do until dinner?”

  “You only have two hours. Don’t worry, Eris is here to help you get ready.”

  I’m speechless. Damon must take that for acceptance, because he closes the door on me.

  “Two hours?” I sit heavily in a chair.

  “Sorry it’s not more time,” Eris says.

  “More time? Why do I need two hours? Can’t I just throw on a dress five minutes before?”

  The girl takes a brush from her pocket, and starts attacking my hair with it. “Not with this crowd, you can’t. They’ll judge you on a strand of hair that’s out of place.”

  “Isn’t that a little much?” I cringe as Eris ruthlessly sorts out a snarl.

  “Yes. But that’s the least of your worries.” The maid doesn’t elaborate, and I’m not keen to follow up when my scalp’s on fire.

  “I can do this myself, you know.”

  Eris stops. “Of course you can’t. Not perfectly. And it needs to be perfect, or His Highness wouldn’t have asked me to help you. Now sit still.”

  The girl brushes my hair as if it insulted her mother. I grit my teeth, determined not to make a sound. I don’t know who devised this torturous test, but I’m determined to pass.

  “There.” At last, the girl puts the brush down.

  I sigh with relief. “Is that all?”

  “We’ve just started.” A wicked grin spreads across her face. “Time to move into the bathroom.”

  She points me to a chair. “Sit.”

  Warily, I sink into the leather.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Now. We’re running out of time.”

  She’s awfully authoritative for a maid. Surely Damon wouldn’t have left me with her if she were deranged or something. Though I’m reluctant, I slip off my tank top.

  Eris immediately covers me in a billowing cloth, fastening it behind my neck. She swivels the chair around. “Lay your head in the sink.”

  My throat feels very vulnerable, but I obey. She douses me with frothy shampoo, then conditioner. I’m rinsed, dried, and straightened. My hair looks sleeker than it ever has before, but I get one glimpse in the mirror before I’m forced to lie in the chair again.

  “What now?” I try to keep my annoyance out of my tone, but I don’t think I succeed.

  Eris brandishes a bottle of nail polish. “Clear gloss.”

  “Will that even have time to dry?”

  “It will, believe me.”

  As it does, she plucks my eyebrows.

  “It’s hard to shape your brows with you frowning, you know.”

  I clench my hands into fists. “It’s hard not to when you’re wrenching out my hair.”

  Eris sets the tweezers on the counter. “Would you like to do this yourself?”

  “Wouldn’t that get you in trouble too?”

  The girl glares at me. “I’m already in trouble, aren’t I? You’ve told His Highness how I was rude to you last night.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “So…” the girl twirls a strand of hair. “I’m not being punished?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh.” Eris looks at the floor. “Thanks for not tattling.”

  “What are we, seven?”

  The girl still won’t meet my gaze, but she picks up the tweezers. I’m glad we got that sorted, because she’s much gentler now.

  Eris dabs me with a light layer of makeup, though she’s generous with the concealer around my lip. Despite her soft touch, my lip still throbs as she applies lipstick.

  “We’re going to go with a strong shade of red. If the lights are dim enough, maybe they’ll miss that gash. But for the love of little lions, don’t wipe it off.”

  She sweeps my hair into a bun. Her deft fingers form a braid that she threads around the base. I eye my profile in the angled mirrors. Since I never know what to do with my hair, I usually leave it down, or in a loose ponytail for jobs. But in a few deft motions, Eris has made me elegant. For a brief moment, I feel worthy of a prince.

  The girl catches my eye in the mirror, and I look into my lap. I don’t know how to properly thank her for what she’s given me.

  “Come on.” Giving me her hand, Eris pulls me up. “Back to the dressing room.” Once there, she tears the cloth from me, leaving me in my bra and shorts. I’m thankful that she doesn’t seem to
judge me at all, to size me up like most of the men I meet. She just looks bored.

  “Lose the shorts.” The girl turns to the closet to pull out a slim turquoise dress.

  The material shimmers in the dying light. “I’m going to wear that?”

  “Not with shorts you aren’t.”

  I kick them off, and Eris helps me into the dress. It fits like it was made for me. Though beautiful, it’s understated, without jewels or frills. The color and fit speak for themselves.

  “It’s gorgeous.” I can’t stop staring at the woman in the mirror. Is that really me?

  Eris nods. “One last touch.” Reaching into a box, she retrieves a jade pendant. As she puts it around my neck, I see that it’s carved into a lion.

  “There,” the girl says. “Perfect.”

  It only took the better part of two hours and lots of pain. Who desires perfection anyway, the prince? If it’s perfection he wants, he won’t find it in me. I can usually get close with my thefts, but even they’ve been flawed lately.

  “My lady?” The girl’s voice brings me back to the present.

  “You can just call me Grace, you know. I’m hardly a lady.”

  “Yes, my l—… Grace.” The girl folds my clothes, and neatly tucks them into a drawer. “If you really want to make an impression at dinner, you should bow when you enter.”

  “Bow?” Normally, I try to avoid making an impression, but I’m not in a position to pass up advice.

  “Yes. You’ll be announced by a herald, and presented to the dining room. If you want to impress the prince, you could perform a formal bow.”

  “How does that go?”

  Daintily, the girl places one foot in front of the other. Sweeping one palm out to the side, she places the fingertips of her other hand to her forehead. Then, with great aplomb, she bends low at the waist. In a fluid motion, she brings her hands down to her sides. “And that’s all there is to it. You try.”

  It looks comical, but I’ll try anything to fit in. I copy her motions.

  “No, foot forward. Elbows bent. Try again.”

  I practice until she’s satisfied. As she nods a final approval, the clock chimes six times. I look at it, confused. By the hands, it’s still five minutes to six.

  “We’re late,” Eris snaps. “Come on.” She shoves my feet into a pair of heels. Taking me by the hand, she pulls me out the door.

  My heart beats faster as my heels click against the tile. Everything’s so confusing here. Nic made it sound like Damon was upset with me, yet the prince practically begged me to stay for one last dinner with him. Though I think Eris has warmed to me a little, I’m sure she wouldn’t be sad to see me go. Nic would be downright delighted. Past the waterfall and peacocks, the palace isn’t quite as glamorous on the inside.

  Eris leads me through a large hall. The ceiling is gilded with golden birds, and the people we pass either stare or whisper. I try to ignore them, try to think of Damon’s eyes instead. That doesn’t really help my heart rate slow.

  The girl stops at a pair of dark doors that tower above us. I’m too sick to appreciate their ornate carvings. My only solace is that I should see a handsome, familiar face once I step through.

  “This is where I leave you,” the girl whispers. “You’re on your own from here.” She wraps her fingers around the iron handle.

  “Eris?”

  “What?”

  “Thank you for all your help.”

  For the first time, I seem to have shocked her into silence. She opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something, then thinks better of it. Sinking into a simple curtsy, she swings the door wide open.

  I stare at the scene before me. I can’t move. There’s a push on my back as Eris thrusts me inside. The door shuts behind me.

  A man beside me clears his throat. “King Darius, Queen Sarina, and the rest of the court: May I present to you … Lady Grace Sparrow.”

  5

  The room is full of people with white gloves carrying serving trays around a long table. They all stop to stare at me. Despite the crowd of servants, they aren’t what make me feel rooted to the floor. Two rather severe-looking people sit in high-backed chairs. Their haughty expressions and silver robes make them dead-giveaways for monarchs. So the prince’s parents are here. What a lovely surprise.

  Damon sits opposite his parents. He smiles, trying to encourage me. I feel so very on display. My palms sweat. Everyone’s staring at me, probably because I’m standing here like a weirdo. But what am I supposed to do? I feel like I’m about to keel over.

  That’s it. Eris taught me to bow. If I’m going to fall, I might as well do it with style. How did it go again? Foot forward. One hand to the side, the other to my forehead. Elbows bent. I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I complete my bow.

  I’m met with titters and muffled laughter. Straightening, I look around the hall. Many white gloves are pressed to smirking lips. The monarchs do not look amused. I might have been misinformed on exactly the kind of impression this bow would make.

  A man next to Damon starts clapping. No one joins him, but this doesn’t seem to bother him. “Excellent.” He rises from his chair. “I’ve never seen a bow like that before. Where are you from?”

  My face must be glowing red. “California.”

  The king clears his throat, and the dining staff takes that as their cue to resume their activities. I wish I could melt through the floor.

  Damon glides to my side, offering me his arm. “Sit by me.”

  “Why didn’t you warn me?” I only take his arm because my feet aren’t steady in these unfamiliar heels.

  “Warn you? A car crash barely fazed you; I didn’t think you would need a warning.”

  “Of course I did!” I try to keep my voice low, but a note of hysteria creeps in. “I thought dinner would just be with you, not the whole royal family.”

  “I can’t say you have the best luck. We only eat together once a week, and it happened to be tonight.”

  How can he do that? His hazel eyes tease me even as his expression remains serious. I realize that his tie matches my dress.

  “May I seat you, Lady Sparrow?” Nic appears behind me to pull out a chair. He gives no indication that we’ve ever met before, and won’t meet my eyes.

  “Thank you.” If he wants to make me mad, he’ll have to try harder another time.

  The prince takes his seat.

  “Did you teach her to bow like that, Damie?”

  I see Damon’s pinky twitch at the nickname. “I didn’t. I thought it was charming, though. Grace, I’m pleased to introduce my brother, Marc.” From his tone, he doesn’t sound entirely pleased.

  “Nice to meet you, Grace. It’s been so long since we’ve met a friend of Damon’s. Who was it last week, Kayla? Or was she the week before?”

  Twitch.

  “Will your friend be arriving soon, Marc?” I ask. “I’d love to meet her.”

  His expression sours, and he turns away from us. Behind me, Nic muffles a guffaw.

  Damon’s shoulders relax. “I can teach you how ladies of our court curtsey, if you’d like.”

  “I would.” I resist the urge to lay my hand in his lap.

  “After dinner, of course,” the queen says.

  “Of course, Mother.”

  His voice is oddly stiff. From the way he spoke of her at the museum, I thought he loved her—and that she was dead. Maybe something else happened between them.

  At some silent signal, servants step forward to place bowls of water next to everyone. I know this one. I dip my fingers in as Damon does, trying to act like I’ve done this before. I’m glad I’ve seen enough movies that I know it’s not some kind of clear soup. Dabbing my fingers on a napkin, I steel myself for the dinner to come. I won’t make a fool of myself again if I can help it.

  Our bowls are ferried away, and bowls of actual soup are placed before us. I stare at the table. I know that the napkin goes in my lap, but why is there so much silverware? The soup sp
oon is obvious, but after that I’ll be lost.

  “Start on the outside,” Damon murmurs. “Work your way in with each course. It’s not too complicated.”

  The soup spoon is the one farthest out. I think I can manage that. Across from us, the king and queen sip their soup. This is happening. I’m really dining with royalty. Wait until Gabe hears about this.

  I try to keep my hands from shaking. Despite my best efforts, some soup dribbles onto my lip. I wipe it off quickly, leaving a smear of lipstick on my napkin. Shit. Didn’t Eris warn me about this? She may not have been completely trustworthy, but I trust that my lip looks horrible in this light. I’m going to have to keep my head down, and hope that the monarchs have bad eyesight.

  “So, Grace.” The king leans forward. “What brings you to our city?”

  I almost choke on my soup. I had hoped that I would be mostly ignored. What am I supposed to say, that I thought they had nice stuff to steal?

  “Well, sir, or … Your Highness…” I try not to wince, but it’s difficult. Every interaction is difficult to navigate here, but I didn’t expect that I would have to address the king. Shouldn’t I have gotten a handbook of some kind?

  Damon reaches under the table to squeeze my hand.

  “Sorry,” I continue. “I’ve been sightseeing. You have a beautiful city. Some of the nicest museums in the world.”

  The king inclines his head by a centimeter. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. Do let us know if you want to take in more sights, and we’ll lend you a driver. Many Americans aren’t used to driving on the opposite side of the road. Some of them get into terrible accidents.”

  Oh god. He knows. I barely keep my spoon from clattering into the bowl.

  Marc leans toward Damon. “Speaking of cars, where’s your Koenigsegg? I didn’t see it in the garage this morning.”

  This isn’t going anywhere good, and there’s no reason to sit through it. I push out my chair, ready to sprint for the doors if I have to.

  Nic catches my arm.

  “Let me go,” I hiss. I can already feel my face burning. No doubt it clashes horribly with my dress.

  “Not that way,” Nic whispers. Clearing his throat, he bows. “Highnesses, the Lady Sparrow has taken ill. She kindly requests your leave.”