Twisted-Games

few inches shorter than me, and I had a direct view of his balding spot. I tried
not to let it deter me. I didn’t want to be one of those shallow people who
only cared about looks, but it would be easier not to focus on his looks if he
gave me something else to work with. He hadn’t looked me in the eye once
since we started dancing. “I hear you’re quite the, er, bird connoisseur.”
Alfred had built an aviary on his estate, and according to Mikaela, one of
his birds famously pooped on Lord Ashworth’s head during the Earl’s annual
spring ball.
Alfred mumbled a reply.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” I said politely.
Another mumble, accompanied by a crimson flush that spread all the way
to his bald spot.
I did us both a favor and stopped talking. I wondered who’d forced him to
attend tonight and who was having a worse time—him or me.
I stifled a yawn and looked around the ballroom, searching for something
interesting to hold my attention. My grandfather held court with a few
ministers in the corner. Mikaela hovered near the dessert table, flirting with a
guest I didn’t recognize, and Andreas snaked through the crowd, looking like,
well, a snake.
I wished my friends were here. I’d video chatted with Ava, Jules, and
Stella earlier that day, and I missed them so much it hurt. I would much
rather spend my birthday eating ice cream and watching cheesy rom coms
than dancing my feet off with people I didn’t even like.
I need a break. Just a small one. Just so I could breathe.
“Apologies,” I said so abruptly a surprised Alfred stumbled and nearly
knocked the tray out of a passing server’s hand. “I’m…not feeling well.
Would you mind if I cut our dance short? I’m terribly sorry.”
“Oh, not at all, Your Highness,” he said, his words finally audible and
filled with relief. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“Thank you.” I snuck a peek at Elin. She had her back turned as she
chatted with the society columnist covering the party, and I slipped out of the
ballroom before she saw me.
I hurried down the hall until I reached the restroom tucked into a quiet
alcove, half-shielded by a giant bronze bust of King Frederick I.
I locked the door, sat on the toilet seat, and kicked off my shoes with a
sigh of relief. My dress poufed around me in a cloud of pale blue silk and
tulle. It was a gorgeous creation, as were my strappy silver heels and the