D'arcy was waiting for me when we landed. We're being chauffeured back to the palace in his car (not a limo, but it's shiny and black... I don't really know a lot about cars). 

It's sort of awkward, but I guess it could be worse. We talked for a little bit, and when there was nothing else to say we just drove in silence. A few moments pass like this and I get lost in my thoughts.

This is happening. This is actually happening. I'm about to meet my boyfriend-thing's father/ king of my dad's country. Maybe I could just jump out of the car. If I'm spastic and quick enough I doubt he could stop me.

"For heaven's sake," He mutters under his breath.

I look over at him, but his head is fixated toward the window. His jaw is set and he looks pretty irritated. I stare at him from the corner of my eye, squinting slightly as I try to read him. Did I do something to tick him off?

No, I couldn't have. We've just been sitting in silence. Maybe it was something on his phone. No... no I bet it's me. But why would it be? Why haven't I just tucked and rolled out of this car yet? Maybe one of the tires could hit me and put me in a coma for six years. That would be so helpful.

He glances at me and lets out a sigh.

"We're already on the news," He explains, handing me his phone. "I told father-"

"Why does it say Miranda?" I interrupt, scrolling down the page.

Sure enough, Darce has a news article pulled up. In big, bold letters is the headline: D'arcy's Darling? There's a photo of me exiting the plane with the caption, 'Who is Miranda Morgan?'

I glance up at D'arcy for an answer, "Why did they use my middle name?"

"I'll get it sorted," He reassured, holding out his hand for the phone. Unconvinced, I drop it back into his palm.