Page 18 of Three's A Crown

One of the footmen, dressed in a fancy tuxedo, opens the door to our car and announces our names toward the red carpet, which is filled with the world’s press. “Princess Magnolia, Princess Skylar, and Princess Rosalie of Aegina.” His booming voice echoes all around us.

The photographers blind us with their flashing lights as we pose for the cameras. When they are finished with us, we follow the other girls. Entering the palace, we’re greeted with champagne, which we all eagerly grab and take a sip, hoping to steady our nerves.

Wow.

This palace is opulent, with its gold and marble stretched out as far as the eye can see. The dulcet tones of conservative murmurs fill the area, as do the orchestra’s instruments playing in the corner.

We’re announced again at the entrance of the ballroom by another tuxedo-clad footman. All heads turn in our direction as the hushed tones fade to near silence. Disapproving looks fall upon the three of us, our father’s reputation following us into the ballroom. Before too long, the room dismisses us, not seeing the three of us as a threat, and goes back to their murmuring, which is more than likely about us.

“Screw them,” I tell my sisters as I bring the champagne glass to my lips.

“Behave, Rosalie,” Magnolia hisses through gritted teeth.

“Did you not see the way they all looked at us? As if we are less than them. Like we don’t even exist.”

“Of course, I noticed them but I’m not letting it worry me,” Magnolia states sharply.

“That’s because weareless than them,” Skylar grumbles, taking a sip of her champagne.

“Coming here was so stupid, these women are not going to tolerate one of us winning the prince,” I say. My anger bubbles to the surface, turning my cheeks red with rage.

“Cut it out, Rosalie. You are on a mission to snag the prince. Forget all these women. Because if we fail, I’m marrying Dante next week before we have even had a chance to challenge our father’s law of succession,” Magnolia warns me.

“Next week?” I squeak. Why so soon?

“Yes. That’s what Dante told me earlier. I’m not ready for that, you’ve inspired me to fight, Rose. I am going to fight for our kingdom, for our people, for the next generation,” Magnolia explains passionately.

“Yes, that’s the spirit,” I say enthusiastically. I’m glad she is getting ready to fight for what is her birthright. “I promise I’ll do better.” I sigh, giving her a warm smile.

“I know you will. Come on … let’s find the prince, we’ve got this.” Magnolia strides ahead into the ballroom with determination.

An hour later, and after one too many champagnes to calm my nerves, it is our turn to be introduced to Prince Augustine. He strides over confidently looking every inch the handsome prince we have seen all over the internet. He’s tall, and it’s evident he looks after himself in the way his suit hugs his muscular frame. The prince is clean-shaven, and his blond hair is slicked back in a princely style. Bright blue eyes take us in, assessing us. Honestly, his photos don’t do him justice as he’s more handsome in real life.

As much as I’ve been a brat about this entire night, seeing him standing before us is swaying me a little. It might not be that much of a struggle to be married to such a gorgeous man. But I know looks don’t always equate to a good man.

Then I notice his bodyguard standing behind him.

Oh, wow.

I thought the prince was hot, but his guard is just as hot if not a little more. Where the prince is all clean and respectable, his guard appears wild and rugged. He hasn’t bothered to shave for the event, so there’s a layer of stubble against his square jaw, and his brown hair is messily styled as though fingers have been running through it all night.

I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through it myself.

What am I thinking?The prince is the prize, not the guard.

My eyes swing between the two handsome men, and my dirty mind begins to run away with me over the scenarios featuring the three of us.Dial it back, Rosalie. Now is not the time to let my dirty thoughts run wild.You need to get the prince’s attention to save your sisters.

I turn and look at my sisters who are perfectly poised, showing grace and servitude toward the prince. If that is what he’s looking for, then he needs to pick Skylar because that isnotwhat he’s going to get with me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bodyguard’s head tilt and those molten brown eyes look me up and down as if assessing me. I should be annoyed by it, but all I can feel is the heat rising. Goosebumps break out against my skin as electricity rushes through my veins.

“Your Highness,” Magnolia greets and curtseys as does Skylar, followed by me.

“You must be the princesses from Aegina,” the prince enquires, looking between the three of us.

“Yes, we are,” Magnolia answers for us as she shakes the prince’s outstretched hand. Skylar does the same, straightening her back, making sure the prince appreciates her ample assets—which he does.

While they are buttering up the prince, I’ve been distracted again by his bodyguard and his penetrating stare.