The carriage was too quiet.
Which was impressive, considering it was rattling over cobblestones at a pace that suggested the driver had somewhere very important to be, which he did to be honest. But inside, in this plush velvet prison on wheels, the silence was overwhelming, and not in a good way.
And Duke Lucien Asterion would not. Stop. Staring.
I could feel his eyes on me. Had been feeling them for the past twenty minutes, burning into the side of my face like twin laser beams.
My hair was completely blonde now, gold, really, shimmering in the morning light that streamed through the carriage windows. The servants had scrubbed every trace of black dye away last night, leaving me looking like some kind of fairy tale princess.
A fairy tale princess in a borrowed dress that's too tight in the chest.
I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the window, watching the city roll past. Grand buildings. Manicured gardens. People in fine clothes going about their business, completely unaware that I was about to walk into the palace and probably get murdered.
Don't think about that. Think about literally anything else.
The staring continued.
Oh my GOD.
I whipped my head around. "What are you looking at?"
The Duke blinked, staring at me like I had just grown a second head.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I crossed my arms. "What. Are. You. Looking. At?"
For a moment, he just stared at me, and not in the intense, brooding way from before. This was pure shock. Like I had slapped him. With a fish.
"I—" He straightened in his seat, composure sliding back into place like armor. "I was merely observing."
"Well, stop observing. It's creepy and making me uncomfortable."
His jaw tightened. "You dare—"
"Yes, I dare." The words came out rather harsh and cold, but I didn't care. This man, this duke, was the same person who had executed Roxanne without a second thought in the original story. Who'd believed every lie Arabella fed him. Who'd looked at an innocent woman and seen only a criminal.
Despite my….tough wannabe personality, I had cried over Roxanne's death scene about twice. While eating ice cream at 2 AM and cursing this man's name.
Did he deserve my respect?
Absolutely not. And I was not going to give him any of it.
His gray eyes narrowed. "You are a mere slave. How dare you speak to me this way?"
I rolled my eyes right in his stupidly handsome face.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did my enslavement not humble me enough for Your Grace's delicate sensibilities?"
"That's not—"
"Should I bow? Grovel? Kiss your boots?" I leaned forward, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I have never been around a noble such as you, Duke. So forgive me if I'm not performing the appropriate amount of simpering gratitude."
The silence that followed was glacial.
Duke Lucien stared at me like he had never been spoken to this way in his entire privileged life. Which, let's be real, he probably hadn't.
His ears were turning red.
His ears.
Oh my god, that's actually kind of—NO. Stop it, Emily. He's your future executioner. Do NOT think about how cute—
"You..." He seemed to be searching for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "You are the most insolent, disrespectful, ungrateful—"
The carriage lurched to a stop.
"We have arrived, Your Grace," the driver called from outside.
Saved by the bell. Or, well, the palace.
The door opened, and a white-gloved hand appeared to help me down.
I took it, stepping out onto marble steps that gleamed in the sunlight.
And froze.
Holy shit.
The Imperial Palace was... I didn't have words. It was everything. White marble columns that stretched toward the sky. Gold accents that caught the light and blazed like fire. Gardens that looked like they required a full-time staff of fifty just to maintain. Fountains. Multiple fountains, each one more elaborate than the last.
And people. So many people.
Nobles in silk and jewels, servants in crisp uniforms, guards in gleaming armor, all of them stopping to stare as I descended from the Duke's carriage.
"Is that golden hair?"
"Another royal?"
"But how—the Emperor only has one daughter—"
"Wait, is that Duke Asterion? Oh my god, he's even more handsome in person—"
My hands were shaking. I clasped them together, trying to project confidence I absolutely did not feel.
You can do this, Emily. You've read this story a hundred times. You know these people. You know how this works.
You can survive this.
You WILL survive this.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I looked up to find the Duke beside me, his grip firm but not painful. "You should respect me," he said quietly, low enough that only I could hear. "Or this will go very badly for you."
I yanked my hand away. "And you should learn that respect is earned, not demanded. Maybe try being less of a condescending ice sculpture and more of an actual human being."
His face flushed. Bright red, spreading from his neck to his cheeks to the tips of those stupid perfect ears.
He turned his face away sharply. "Insufferable," he muttered.
"Right back at you," I said sweetly.