Well crap, there's a king standing in front of me. More like hovering over me. He might even be taller than D'arcy. His shoulders are broad to carry the weight of the world, or at least his kingdom. He has dark eyes, eyes that are glowering down at me. I feel myself shrinking under his stare. Don't look down. Looking down is sign of weakness.

Ugh, but he's killing me with his eyes! If I don't look away I just might fall down dead. I have to say something! We can't keep up this awkward staring contest forever. But what do I say to a king? What do I call him? Your Majesty? Is that a thing? Would that be creepy? Mr. Weston? Is that too informal? Why didn't I ask Darce about this earlier? I gotta say something!

"Hi," I squeak.

That's it. I'm gonna die. Here lies Gypsy Miranda Morgan, who died from suffocating on awkwardness.

The king's menacing glare rests on me for a moment longer. He then steps over, facing his son. It's as if I have disappeared completely and it's just the two of them in the room. "If you wanted a quick marriage, D'arcy, I could have arranged something more suitable."

"I've arranged it myself, thank you" He replies quickly, decidedly.

The king heaves a sigh, "It appears so. And I'm the one who has to clean up your mess."

"This is 'cleaning up my mess' then?" D'arcy snaps, holding up his phone. "Leaking information to the press? False information."

"Everything I told them was true."

"Selective truth."

"Framing is an inevitable part of media," the king says in defense. "Better we choose the frame. How would you rather have Collis hear it, D'arcy? The Mysterious Miranda?" Then glancing at me in disgust he adds, "Or 'Prince Picks Gypsy Up Off Street'?"

"You didn't ask me about any of this," D'arcy growls. "This is my life-"

"Yes, and the choices you make reflect me. Reflect this country! You're free to make as many poor life choices as you want, D'arcy. But it's my responsibility to make the most of them."

He looks in my direction again. Not wanting to look down, I decide to look over his shoulder. Maybe it'll look like I'm staring him in the eyes. Instead my gaze lands on a stone nudist.

"Why are there so many naked people?" I whisper in defeat.

"Pardon me?" The king asks gruffly.

Crap. Well, there's no escaping the awkwardness now. I look the king right in the eyes and decide to spit it out before his glare kills me.

"I might be a poor life choice, but you don't know that!"

Unable to keep eye contact any longer, I glance away. I'm not done, so I stupidly keep on rambling. "Just... don't hate me yet! Alright? I mean... yeah, for all you know I might be just marrying your son because he's rich, and a prince, and whatever. And yeah, that's part of it. But there's more to it! And if it doesn't work out between us, then I'll pay D'arcy back every penny he loaned me for college. Even though he keeps saying he won't let me. And if he doesn't accept it I'll stick it in a jar and just let it sit on the counter because it's not my money to spend." What am I even saying? I need to shut up. Yup, there are still words tumbling out of my mouth, "But until D'arcy regrets picking me off the street, or technically out of the coffee shop, or until I do something to make you think I'm a poor life choice... just... don't..."

Feet. Yeah. I'm looking at my feet. I loose. Of course he thinks I'm a poor life choice.

I suddenly remember there are other people in the room. Not only did the king witness my awkward meltdown, but so did the assistant and the bodyguards... great.

After a moment of thick silence the king just leaves, followed by the pencil skirt and brute squad. It's just me, Darce, and the naked statues.

"I'm... sorry," D'arcy finally speaks up.

"It's fine," I sigh. "I'm fine. It's just-" I cut myself off, mainly because I'm not sure what to say. "It's... okay. I'm mean, he's not the first dad in my life who..." What am I saying? Darce doesn't care about that. Even if he did, I'm not going to dump my baggage on him. "I'm, uh, sorry I didn't impress your dad."

"No one can. Want to see the rest of the castle? I'm assuming the art is making you uncomfortable."

I blush but nod. He leads the way out of the gallery, and we begin roaming the many halls and rooms of the Col Castle.