I meant everything I said to Jace when he brought it up. But I didn’t say it because I wanted to. Because I don’t want him.

I slip out of bed, glad Jace doesn’t wake up when I do. I can’t face him yet. I shower quickly and dress in a black dress and blazer for the interview later. For once, I don’t feel like running. I’m not angry or upset. I’m sapped. An emotionless void.

I head downstairs into the sitting room where I ordinarily eat breakfast. One of the maids appears immediately. “Would you like your breakfast brought in, Your Highness?”

“Yes, please,” I respond.

She curtsies and leaves.

Absentmindedly, I turn on the television. Maybe some background noise will tune out my incessant thoughts. The noise doesn’t; the topic of conversation does.

I turn to watch a pretty blonde woman discuss my love life on the morning news. “…and there’s rampant speculation around the country this morning, as the Royal Press Office released a statement late last night announcing the hotly anticipated interview featuring Princess Vivienne and Jace Dawson will not be taking place as scheduled. The statement cites scheduling complications as the reason for the last-minute change, despite the fact Dawson is rumored to have arrived in the country two days ago and there is currently nothing else on Princess Vivienne’s official calendar. She is now set to answer questions two hours after Mr. Dawson finishes his interview later this morning. Stay tuned for live coverage of both interviews. We’ll keep you posted on updates from the palace if and when we receive them. Now, we’re taking you to…” I turn the television off.

I eat breakfast and then head to Anne’s office for my preparation session before my interview. I’m distracted the entire time, which makes it easier in some ways. My voice is lacking any emotion as I repeat Anne’s suggested phrases and responses.

My apathy disappears when I leave Anne’s office and am confronted by a pair of troubled gray eyes.

“Hey,” Jace greets me.

“Hi,” I reply softly.

He’s dressed in a suit, and he wears it well. Very well. Jace glances behind me before stepping closer. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

“I thought it might be… easier,” I reply. “You’re leaving, and—”

“Mr. Dawson, wonderful. You’re right on time.” Anne’s voice sounds behind me. She greets Jace more enthusiastically than she’s ever spoken to me. Maybe he wasn’t lying about the laugh.

I summon a smile. “I’ll see you after. You’ll do great.”

Jace looks like he wants to say something in response, but Anne interrupts. “We’d better head down, Mr. Dawson. The media has already assembled.”

“Okay,” Jace replies. He walks past me, and I continue down the hallway.

I end up back in the same sitting room I watched the news in this morning. I turn on the television and watch as it broadcasts the live feed of Anne walking toward the table that’s been set up, with Jace close behind her. An audible murmur ripples through the assembled reporters as he appears, followed by the rapid clicking of cameras. Jace and Anne take seats at the table, then Anne leans forward to speak.