They called it a small celebration, but I had never seen anything so extravagant. Candlelight sparkled against clear crystals, golden streamers hung from the ceiling, and an orchestra with ivory instruments played up-tempo music for hundreds of ornately dressed royals. Even the wait staff had been forced to wear billowing white gowns and walk around with golden leaves stuck to our faces. It was like something out of a storybook. 

I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life.

It was rather absurd really; all this fuss over Princess Evangeline’s twentieth birthday. Seeing as most of the guests were eligible bachelors, I got the feeling that the whole ordeal was for the suitors to impress the king, not for the princess to enjoy her birthday. Eva had told me that marriage was unnecessary; her kingdom had no need for an alliance, so her father hadn't sold her off, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing.

I had attempted to argue that her life was worth more than that of a simple pawn, but she had held up a dainty, glove-clad hand and shook her head. "Thus is the life of a royal," she said.

I wanted to punch the king in the face. I wanted to punch all of them in the face, every single stupid rich person who thought this was normal. Maybe it was the naive peasant in me, but I didn't see why the princess had no say in her own life, and I couldn't believe that she had resigned herself to such a fate.

I almost choked when she walked out from behind her throne and stood regally before the crowd, her chin held high and a smirk across her face, but her eyes held their familiar lifelessness, and when she held my gaze, my smile faded.

Her dress was red, the only piece of striking color in the entire room, and her lips had been painted to match. The neckline fell much lower than should have been legal, and I caught more than a few men staring unabashedly at the exposed skin. Her silver crown had been replaced with a ring of intricately-woven ivy, her eyes darkened with coal, and her cheeks adorned the same golden leaves as my own. She looked stunningly sinful.

But she didn't look pleased.

I offered her a shrug and turned to tour the room with a platter of what I sincerely hope was some kind of cheese biscuit.

All things said and done, I guess it wasn't the worst night ever. I drank at least three bottles of that fancy alcohol, but it didn't feel anything like a blood buzz so I stopped before I started tripping. Eva kept looking over at me, presumably to make sure I hadn't tried to kill anyone, and as annoying as it was to be constantly monitored, I liked that I had her attention.

Plus the music wasn't bad. Nothing like the bands at our harvest festivals back home, but it didn't hurt me to listen. I honestly wonder what the rich people would do if a bunch of hicks came and started banging on things and yelling out old campfire songs.

“My Lord, Frederick, do you hear this senseless racket?”

“Of course I do, Maragret. How could I possibly ignore this awful cacophony? Oh heavens, are they… Howling? Like wild dogs?”

“No Frederick, not like dogs. They're like gutter rats.”

“You're right, dear Margaret. They most definitely resemble those retched, dirty creatures--Oh God, they're coming over here! What do we do? Shall we make a hasty retreat, my love?”

“Hide me, Sir Frederick! Don't let them touch me! I can't imagine what horrendous diseases they must carry!”

And no, I did not choose those names at random. Lady Margaret spilled a glass of wine on my dress and yelled at me for my incompetence, and Sir Frederick got in a drunken duel with a child. And you say royals are sophisticated.

Anyway, like I said, it wasn't a bad party. The princess got an elephant for her birthday. And some other stuff too, but I stopped paying attention after an elephant barreled through the doors.