Knock. Knock. Knock.

I roll over in my bed, slipping in and out of consciousnesses. I mumble something incoherent and pull the covers over my head.

There was yet more knocking on the door, followed by a muffled, "Ms. Morgan?"

"Idon'tknowyou," I yell into my pillow, too tired to turn my head.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Ms. Morgan?" The voice calls again. "It's time to get up."

I attempt to roll out of bed but get tangled in the covers. Somehow, I end up on the floor.

It hurt, but I'm too tired to really care. I settle with a disgruntled ouch and just curl up on the floor.

"Are you alright?" The voice came again, sounding slightly concerned. "I'm coming in-"

"I'm good," I mumble into the floor.

I hear the door open and it dawns on me that I should probably get up and try to look half-way presentable. But my mind makes this realization too late, seeing that a woman is already hovering over me.

"Are you alright?" She asks pointedly, squatting down beside.

I roll over, pushing myself to my knees, "No, yeah. Yeah, sorry. I'm good."

I squint up at her. She appears fully awake and ready to go. Her auburn hair is whisked back in a neat bun, and her pantsuit looks just as tidy.

"Who... who are you?" I ask.

"I'm Olivia Green," She says, straightening back up. "I'll be your Personal Secretary during your stay here."

She offers me a hand, which I take hesitantly, "My what?"

"Personal secretary," She repeats as she pulls me out of the pile of covers. "I'll manage your affairs for the next week."

"I... I have affairs?"

"Nothing too much, seeing this is your first week," She slaps something into my hand as she talks. "A few luncheons and such."

I turn the object over in my hand and glance up at her questioningly, "A phone?"

"Yes. It has my work number, as well as the Prince and his father. There are some other staff numbers on it, I doubt you'll need them."

"I have a cell phone," I say, though this one is ten times nicer than my prepaid phone. Sleek and black, I wonder if they'll let me download apps to it.

"This one has a secure line," she explains flatly.

She whips an iPad out of nowhere, her fingers gliding across the screen, "We've got a busy day ahead of us, Ms. Miranda."

I knitted my brows a this, "Mir-? Oh! No, you don't understand. My name's actually-"

"For the time being- Miranda," she replied simply, still tapping on her tablet. "Some consider 'Gypsy' a racial slur. It might not go over well with the public." She glances back at my suitcase, "Still unpacked?"

I just stand there, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. They can't just change my name. Apparently she sees nothing wrong with doing so. She casually picks up my bag, weighing it for a second, "Someone packed light."

She plops it on the bed and unzips it. One by one she starts pulling out clothes and evaluating each piece, "This won't do... this might work..." She neatly laid out the clothes on my bed as she judged my wardrobe.

"This dress will be appropriate enough for breakfast," she says, more to herself than me. "We'll need to get you something for dinner."

"Wait a second!" I snap, closing my suitcase before she can reach back in there, "We're still talking about my name."

"We can talk all you like, Ms. Morgan," She says, holding one of my dresses up, "But it won't change anything. As far as Collis is concerned, you go by Miranda."

"That's lying," I argue.

She just shrugs, "That's framing."

"No it's not."

She sighs, letting the dress drop back on the bed, "Listen, framing is-"

"I know what framing is," I snap, sounding a little more agressive than intended. I learned about it in my communication class. Made a 102 on that test (yeah, got the bonus question right too).

She looks at me doubtfully, but decides to let it go. "Miranda is part of your name, and it's the part we're allowing for the world to see. And in an hour," She holds the dress up to me, "Miranda is going to have breakfast with the King's sister."

"What?"

"Want to make a good impression on D'arcy's family, don't you? Best be getting dressed."

She puts the dress in my arms and pushes me into the bathroom. I look down at the dress then up at the mirror. I blow a strand of hair off of my face as I take everything in.

This is way more than I signed up for.

"I guess I did sign up for a country," I say under my breath.