Chapter Twelve
Two hours of being prodded, measured and tortured, the seamstress finally shuffles off, leaving me alone with four rather amused Guardians.
“I’m still amazed how you let yourself be treated like that,” Frost observes with a wide grin. “If she’d come close to me with those giant needles, I’d have thrown her to the other side of the room.”
I grimace. “I don’t think it would make a good impression if the heiress to the throne started throwing people around. People might actually tell my mother.” I shiver. As nice as Beira is to me in private, as cold she is in public. I’ve tried to stay in her good books and so far, it’s worked. Mostly. In fact, she approved of Arc and my plans to contact my parents.
Tomorrow’s the day. Today, I will have to endure yet another ball, thrown
