The Golden Princess (#4 in the GOLDEN series) ✔

•F O U R•

When her stomach started growling, Céleste regretted not finishing the delightful breakfast her handsome fiancé had urged her to consume the day before.

She recalled the atmosphere of gossip and the impolite glimpses from other nobles as she threw a hissy fit, refusing to take a single bite of bacon.

Now, knocking on Charlotte's bedroom door, she wished she'd eaten too much and found herself indisposed for a few days.

Offer aid with wedding preparations?

She'd only had time for a cup of tea before receiving the dire news of her upcoming activities. Why did she have to be there? Surely Charlotte had plenty of ladies-in-waiting and other poor victims to attend her. She wouldn't want Céleste there.

So why would Sébastien insist that she help? Yesterday, he'd warned her the letter would arrive; the one written in a fancy font, polite but insisting, simple yet charged with meaning. He'd told her to run to Miss Geitz whenever she beckoned.

This letter wasn't a beckoning; it was a summoning.

Céleste held in her disgust as she waited for Charlotte to open the door. When she did, Céleste gasped. The always well-composed, sharp-eyed lady was a mess. Her blonde curls puffed out like a sheep's mane, and the ruffles lining her very pink dress were so large they took up the entire doorway.

Céleste struggled not to laugh. "I am here to assist you?"

With a grunt, Charlotte waddled out of the way. "Yes, join the club." She shoved her high collar away from her chin. "I have a horde of assistants already."

Several of Charlotte's ladies-in-waiting shimmied about, exploring drawers and closets. A few were on the floor, polishing shoes, trimming dress hems, unrolling lengthy sashes. Huddled in the back of the room, stiff as statues, were Julia and Princess Cordelia.

Rushing through the crowd of girls, Céleste fought her gaping mouth. "Princess?" As she skidded to a halt in front of Cordelia, she lowered into a curtsy. "You are here?"

The Totresian Princess, fixed on the chaotic scene of Charlotte's pre-wedding arrangements, waved Céleste up. "I had no alternative," she whispered, crossing her arms. "All three of my brothers commanded it. Meaning we are forced to witness," she lifted her nose as Charlotte yelled at one of the girls, "this."

Céleste nodded at Julia, who was calmer—more used to Charlotte's outbursts, and likely not there by obligation. The raven-haired lady offered a pinched smile, then focused on her best friend's tirade about how she would not wear a pink gown to marry a Totresian Prince.

Céleste heard Sébastien's voice in her head and cringed.

"Your mission to befriend Charlotte has not yet ended, my love."