Beatrice clutched the edge of her seat as the carriage bounced slightly along the palace road. Her gloves were damp from the nervous clenching of her hands. Her mind was spinning, a panicked litany rolling through her head like a cursed chant.
Palace arrival, ceremony, the dance, the garden, the prince and princess, the duel, the assassination attempt. The Lockharts....
Every scene, every chapter. They were all going to happen again.
Her body may have been wrapped in silk and powdered to nobility, but her soul was raw. She wasn't the clumsy, hopeful girl from months ago. That girl had died, literally...
The carriage slowed as the grand gates of the palace came into view. Beatrice swallowed hard. Her throat felt tighter than ever.
The doors opened. Beatrice stepped down slowly, and immediately, all eyes fell on her. The noble girls were already clustered in neat pastel lines, whispering and smirking.
