I requested a simple maroon dress today as a precaution. I also wore simple gold jewelry just in case it needed to be washed after the encounter with the asholle.

We compromised on shorter heels; the maids gave me two and a half-inch stilettos instead of three-inch ones. They wouldn't compromise on the corset, though. 

Maybe I'll get lucky and pass out before I meet with Asholle.

After my injuries fully healed, I planned on teaching them that the corset was to go OVER your undergarments, not under it.  

I must resist the urge to scratch my sides and armpits.

Did a man write this trash novel? No sane woman would wear a corset under her underwear.

Breakfast today was a bowl of cucumber soup and a cup of tea. The maid's explanation? The corset did not fit right.  Liquids noisily sloshed around in my stomach as I walked to the carriage.

Last night, I stuffed myself during dinner due to involuntarily fasting for 24 hours thanks to terrorism and a creepy Duke. I questioned whether my rib injury came from the barrel roll or the potato-sack carries.

**********

I carefully exited the carriage upon arrival with help from the coachman. My body immediately started to sweat from the sweltering heat outside. My small white fan was simply not enough to cool me down. I wanted to jump back into the carriage; it had some sort of magical air conditioning that I couldn't ask about.

I don't want them to catch on that I'm not the real one by asking weird questions.

Royal guards gave me dirty looks as I passed by them. Awash with anxiety from the hostility encountered on my way to the meeting, I held up my feathered fan to cover half of my face.  They had Sheraton wait outside, so I had to face Asholle alone armed with a single feathered fan. 

The uncomfortable wooden chairs quickly became a source of back pain after I waited for 2 hours.  They did not serve any tea or snacks. 

Urgh, this world is full of Asholles.

The jerk finally waltzed into the room in his basic-bitch white prince outfit. He was so damn generic; blonde hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled face. Dressed in an over-decorated navy tunic, he swaggered over as I stood up and greeted the discount-rack Brad Pitt. 

He raised his eyebrows slightly, and a corner of his lip turned up in a smirk as he strode past me. He sat down, crossed one leg over the other, then finally motioned for me to sit down next to him. I sat down across from him and crossed my arms.

He would be cute if I could punch the Asholle-ness out of his face.

"Fellanie, I have decided on your punishment," he said as he loudly cleared his throat.

Please, please, please exile me!

"You must plan my wedding to my darling Saintess." He said as he grinned his trademark asshole grin.

"Wait, what," I blinked incredulously.

"Plan my wedding. Are you dumb AND deaf?" 

No, YOU are dumb and deaf, Your Highness. 

"What the fu..dge, Your Highness. You said that I tormented the Saintess, and now you want me to plan your stupid wedding?"

"Language!! You are speaking to the prince. And I know, I'm a genius for thinking of this." He smugly replied, his eyes closed as if he was deep in thought.

"My dearest SECOND Prince Asholle Arsch Adeliger, why not banish me? That way, I am not a threat to either of you lovebirds." I said as I glared at the human douche nozzle. 

[Who the hell would hang a huge painting of themselves in their own office? This guy, that's who.]

"Please call me Ash; it's weird when you say my whole name. You always say it wrong, but then again, you're dumb. It's Ash-Shall-Lay. Not Ass-Hole. 

"Anyway, I digress. I cannot witness your suffering if I exile you! I will also be punishing Duke Northartic; he will be immediately sent back to the war for his punishment." He added, "We are getting married in a year. The Saintess and I, not Darq. I'm not gay."

Yikes. Nobody said you are, you homophobic dickweed.

How was the Duke being sent away relevant to this conversation? I'm not following his train of thought, but that's probably because the train was empty to begin with.

"Is there room for negotiations? How about you send me North to the war and have the Duke plan the wedding? That is a much more painful punishment for both parties involved." I lived at the border of the North Duchy, where all of the active combat was happening.  

This would essentially be house arrest for me because my father would never send me out to war—I think. I haven't met the man yet. I could spend my days living as a retired rich lady.

"No, the Duke is a dangerous man, and I cannot let him near my lovely Goddess. The only reason that he's allowed here at all is because of my father's graces," he said as he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. 

Pfft, what a jealous loser. The second prince was sending the Duke away because he feared that the Duke would steal his precious Aino.  

I could see that happening. Darq was way cuter and most likely way stronger.

 Not that I like him or anything. The guy is a clumsy predator that stalks random aristocratic ladies to their bedrooms.

"You broke my engagement to the Crown Prince Sanf already. Isn't that enough? Also, did Saintess Aino consent to this? She probably never wants to see my villainous face again," I retorted.

He snorted and said, "she'll be fine. We are in love after all."

How is being in love relevant to consent? I underestimated his stupidity. How did the author write such a stupid character? 

"I'm sorry I asked, you are right, you two are very in love. However, it still does not change the fact that I've never planned a wedding before. You two deserve the grandest and most magnificent wedding in the universe!" 

"I'm glad that you finally understand the importance of my wedding to my most precious flower," he said as I watched my sarcasm fly over his last two neurons.

He reached over and grabbed my chin with his gloved hand.

"Your Highness!" I pulled back but he forcefully pulled my face until I was inches from his. His hot breath on my cheeks caused me to hold my breath and shut my eyes.