Goosebumps broke out all over my arms as I waited in the wings. “This feels wrong,” I whispered to Tariq.
“Put your feelings to the side. Remember what matters most: the prince.”
I shot him a look. His pretty face was half-framed in shadow. If there was anyone I shouldn’t trust, it was Tariq. And yet, the prince was what mattered most to me. I had to protect him, even if it meant hurting him—and hurting myself—not to mention Shaye. I hadn’t really given that a lot of thought, but as I peered at her, sitting with the prince and laughing, I realized that she was going to be more than a little upset. I was about to rain on her parade. Pour on it, actually.
Mira bustled in. “It’s time. They’re just finishing their game.”
“Why are all the second dates about games?” I asked.
“It’s because of security concerns. The Black Guard doesn’t want the prince roaming too far because of the prisoner who escaped.”
I nodded, watching as Dallas and Shaye flipped up numbers on the board game they were playing. Dallas rolled the dice, and Shaye clapped, cheering him on.
Mira turned to me, smoothing my hair and adjusting my gown. “I know you don’t like that dress, but it’s becoming.”
“I don’t want to do it,” I said again.
“I know.” Mira smiled at me kindly. “Do your best. There’s a good reason for it, right?”
My gaze wandered over to Tariq, who watched Shaye and Dallas with interest. “I hope so.”
Mira leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “I’m rooting for you. I won’t make you look bad in the final cut, I promise. I’ve been doing this for a long time. This scene will be good for ratings, I promise. Everyone loves a good conflict.”
“What’s that?” Tariq asked.
“Nothing,” Mira said. “I was just giving Gwyneth a little friendly female advice.”
“Right. Is it time?” Tariq gave me another once-over. “She looks ready.”
“We can send her in now.” Mira nodded at me. “Go ahead, Gwyneth. The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be finished.”
I nodded, teetering on my heels. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as I went through the door without knocking. The cameras swung in my direction.
“Your Highness.” My voice came out hoarse. “A word.”
Dallas looked up from the game, completely taken aback, and the smile disappeared from his face. He shot to his feet. “Gwyneth? What’s the matter?”
“I need to talk to you.” I barely got the words out. My mouth had gone completely dry.
Shaye looked at me, worry plain on her face. “Are you all right? Is it your sister?”
Her kind concern just made this worse. I took a step forward, remembering my instructions. “My sister’s fine. I just wanted to see His Highness.”
They looked at each other quickly, confused.
Shaye laughed nervously. “Well, His Highness is sort of on a date right now.”
“I don’t care.” I stepped forward again, a bit recklessly.
Dallas finally noticed my dress and all the makeup. He looked concerned. “Miss West, are you quite all right? You don’t seem yourself.”
“I just—I just wanted to see you.” That, at least, was the truth.
He looked at Shaye. “Would you mind giving us a moment?” He sounded uncomfortable.
Her mouth briefly puckered in annoyance, but then she nodded, ever the peacemaker. She swiftly left the room, mercifully without giving me a backward glance.
Dallas immediately came to my side. “Gwyneth, what’s wrong?”
“I haven’t seen you all week.” My voice wobbled. This was part of the script, but I felt the words sharply. And I hated myself for it.
He reached for my hand. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’ve been busy.”
“I k-know. But I had to see you. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of you spending time with these other girls.” My eyes pricked with tears. The tears were not scripted.
He turned back to the cameraman. “Can you stop filming?”
The cameraman shook his head no then made the sign for still rolling.
Dallas turned back to me, annoyed—whether with the cameraman or me, I wasn’t sure. “Can we please talk about this later? I’ll figure out a way we can meet in private.” He kept his voice low.
“I don’t want to wait.” I wanted to get out of here, away from the cameras, away from Tariq and Mira Kinney watching me from the next room.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb.
“I saw you with Tamara again, and I know you sent her flowers.” My voice was flat, dead. “I saw you kiss her.”
He sighed deeply, shooting a quick glance back toward the cameras. “That’s complicated.”
I hoped that was code for ‘I didn’t want to do it but the network insisted,’ but of course, I didn’t dare ask. Instead, I took a step closer.
Dallas’s eyes raked over my dress, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. “What are you doing?”
“Coming closer. Like I said, I missed you.” In a move I’d cribbed from Tamara, I stuck my chest out a bit.
Dallas’s gaze darkened, and he frowned. “Gwyneth. I’m with Shaye tonight. Shaye’s your friend.” He spoke to me as if he were trying to wake me from a trance.
“I don’t care.” They’d written that for me, too—banking on the fact that the prince would be the perfect gentleman—but I would’ve said it anyway. I hated having him so close, but not being able to touch him, to show him how I truly felt, to claim him.
I hated having to politely wait in line. I felt my temper rising. I reached out and stroked his cheek, and he winced. “Please. You’re not yourself tonight.”
“You don’t want me?” I asked hoarsely.
His face crumbled. “That’s not fair. You’re putting me in an impossible situation.”
“That makes two of us,” I whispered. Those words were my own, unscripted.
Shaye poked her head back into the room. “Are you quite finished?”
Dallas and I stared at each other, and I nodded. “Yes. I believe we are.”
He stepped back, as if I’d struck him. “My lady.”
“Your Highness.” I turned on my high heel and strode out, without so much as twisting my ankle. All that twisted was my heart.