𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | ✎

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎

"Your Highness, please!" one of the servants shouts, straightening me with firm hands on my shoulders. "Fix your posture."

But the corset makes it hard to stand perfectly straight. It's uncomfortable, so I sulk my shoulders again in an effort to relieve the tension in my body. "It's hard when I have this stupid corset on," I mutter, adjusting the straps of my dress.

The woman rolls her eyes. "You're a princess. You've been trained since birth to look and act a certain way. The least you could do is act like it."

I glare at her, resisting the urge to yell. "I'm sorry, did you want me to curtsy or something?" I retort sarcastically, showing my bitterness.

The servant—whose name I'm not aware of—doesn't seem amused by my comment. She turns back to the mirror and starts spraying an ungodly amount of perfume on me. I know she's right deep down. I was trained my entire life to be a perfect princess, and I'm failing at it. I can't even act like myself anymore.

After coughing the spray out of my system, I rise once again and head toward the door. The servants scatter behind me in a rush to clean things up so they can be on time for the wedding ceremony. Before I can exit in front of them, though, the handle turns, and the door flies open.

My mother stands in front of me, taking in the sight of me. I can hear the servants shuffling around to face the queen. "Your Majesty," they all say simultaneously, and I turn around to see them kneeling down.

She enters my bedroom with a wide smile on her face, gesturing for the servants to rise. Her emerald eyes scan over the place before they fixate on me.

My mother is truly gorgeous. Her elegant, dark-red gown falls around her, accentuating her tiny waist and wide hips. Her dark, silky hair is styled perfectly, with an elegant diamond-encrusted crown on top.

"You look beautiful, cara mia," she gushes, putting her cold, delicate hands on my shoulders.

I inhale deeply, processing everything. I'm about to get married, and my mother is here to escort me. But before answering her, I turn back to the servants and point for them to leave. They immediately pack up all of their things and walk past us, leaving the room for me and the queen.

"Thank you, mama," I sigh. I try to fake a smile, but it's no use. My mother can see right through me; she senses my sadness and bitterness over this entire situation.

"Elena, what's the matter?" she asks, concerned. "Is it the dress? Or the corset? You look as if you're in pain."

I shake my head, my expression turning to one of frustration. "No, mama. It's this whole thing... I didn't even pick out this dress. I don't even want to be here right now."

She looks at me for a long moment, and I'm sure my words only confirm her worst fears. But she keeps her emotions in check and remains calm, which is one of the reasons I love her so much—even if we've never been that close.

"It's okay to feel this way," she assures, caressing my cheek with gentle fingers. "But remember your position. You're going to become a queen, and it's important for you to set an example for Italy by being strong and confident."

I take a deep breath and look down at the ground, swallowing my emotions. My mother's words are like a knife to my heart; it's exactly what I have been taught my entire life. Except it won't be the same with Marco being the one in charge. Marco getting to make all the major decisions.