Nia’s bouncing and waggling come to an abrupt stop. “I had to sit across from Ivee—Ivee, Kerris. The least you could do is have some sort of scandalous love affair with Ronan’s rival.”

If she wants scandal, perhaps I should tell her about meeting Everett, after all. Instead, I shrug. She has made her feelings on the Unseelie quite plain. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Kerris, dear!” my aunt calls from downstairs. “The prince is here to collect you!”

Collect me for what?

Oh, no…

I completely forgot that I agreed to accompany him to the castle today.

Nia launches off the bed, tripping over my discarded slippers on her way to the wardrobe. She flings open the doors and starts combing through my gowns. “What about this one?” She holds out the yellow one with the daisy corset.

How about none of them? “I don’t really want to go.”

“Tell me you’re joking. Kerris, you have been given an audience with the King and Queen of Willowhaven. That is not something you cancel at the last minute unless you’re dying.”

It’s not the king and queen I have an issue with. It’s their deceitful son. Not that I can tell Nia that because then she will ask who gave me the flowers and that would lead to a conversation about Everett and then an argument.

I’m too bloody tired to argue.

So I roll out of bed, prepared to bite my tongue until the day is through.

She withdraws a deep violet gown from the back. “What about this one? It looks very regal.”

It does look regal, but there’s only one problem. “Madame Ella made the skirt too long.”

Nia’s lips purse as she holds the dress up to her willowy frame. Sure enough, the dress is too long for my cousin as well. “That’s not like her. All the dresses Madame Ella has made for me have been perfect.”

“The last few gowns she sent have been the same.” There were a few in the mix that fit, but the others must’ve been meant for someone else.

“We can bring them back to her next week. Until then, you go brush your teeth and hair, and I’ll get my needle and thread.”

* * *

Ronan waits outside the cottage in a gilded carriage more opulent than any I’ve ever seen—even the wheels are golden. Once I’m settled, the driver cracks the whip and we’re off, rolling down the cobbled streets while passersby stop to gawk and point.

I hate every second of it.

Who needs a golden carriage? It’s utterly ridiculous, if you ask me. Surely there are better uses for one’s wealth than this.

Ronan’s hand falls to my knee with a reassuring squeeze, his smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I missed you yesterday.”