Take the Key and Lock Her Up (Embassy Row #3)(55)

“It will be fine, Grace. Parts might even be a little fun. That’s why I’m here. To help you get ready for the party,” Ms. Chancellor says.

And this stops me.

“What party?”

“My father-in-law has been on the throne for fifty years now,” Ann says. “There will be a gala to commemorate the occasion in a few days, and this felt like the perfect time to bring you out, so to speak.”

I look at Ms. Chancellor. “It is for the best, Grace,” she tells me, and I hear what she doesn’t say.

If I’m going to do this …

If this is going to be my life …

If I’m to keep my deal with the devil, then eventually I’m going to have to live up to my part of the bargain.

“So?” Ann claps her hands together. She actually bounces a little as she says, “Let’s get started.”

It wasn’t that long ago that I stood with Noah in one of the formal rooms of the US embassy while Ms. Chancellor taught us how to dance. I remember trying on clothes with Megan, laughing in a limo with my grandpa.

It was only a few months ago, I realize, but it might as well have been another decade. I might as well have been another girl.

“No, Grace,” the princess snaps. “That curtsy is far too low for a countess. Unless she is a duchess or higher, then you mustn’t go below here.” She holds her hand at my midsection, orders me to try again.

“Now. You cannot stand in the receiving line of course—”

“Of course,” I echo, and Ms. Chancellor eyes me, a warning.

“But Thomas shall escort you in for the evening, and I assure you that as soon as you take your place on my son’s arm, everyone will notice.”

“Yay,” I say.

Ms. Chancellor steps on my foot.

“My office is spreading it around town that I’ve taken you in. The optics are very good, you know. Orphaned girl taken from homelessness to the palace.”

“I’m not homeless! I’m not an orphan. I have a father and a grandfather. I have people who love me,” I snap before it hits me. Before I realize that it’s true.

There are people who love me. But they are on the other side of these walls, and I can never go back again.

“We have to make you sympathetic,” the princess tells me. “Otherwise …”

“Why would anyone believe that a prince would choose someone like me?” I fill in.

She just shrugs. She can’t even be bothered to tell me that I’m right.

They shove me into dresses and heels. The royal seamstresses are summoned and I’m measured and poked and prodded until I bleed on something from a shop that’s so exclusive there’s a nine-month waiting list just to get in the door.

“You’re doing well,” Ms. Chancellor tells me as she unzips a gown that’s worth more than most houses.

Ann is across the room, conferring with someone on her staff. They’re always running to and fro, asking questions, getting approval. She isn’t the queen, but that doesn’t mean Ann doesn’t have her own little empire. No wonder it doesn’t matter to her that her best friend died in order for her to keep it.

“Don’t.”

I look up to see Ms. Chancellor’s big brown eyes staring into mine.

“What?”

“Don’t think about it, sweetheart.”

I should tell her that she doesn’t know what I was thinking, but that would be useless. Ms. Chancellor can read my face, my moods, my very mind. She knows me better than I know myself. And that’s why she looks terrified.

“Don’t think about your mother, Grace. It’s too late to save her.”

She doesn’t say the rest of it—that it’s not too late to save myself.

But, on this, even Eleanor Chancellor is mistaken.

I have one shot—one last mission. And I don’t dare waste it, so I ease a little closer to Ms. Chancellor. I finger a gown and lower my voice. “Do you know what my mom was looking for? Does the Society know?”

“Don’t do this, Grace.”

It’s all I can do to keep my voice down, my face placid. “Mom found something, and if I can find it, too, then—”

“Then they’ll kill you?” Ms. Chancellor guesses. “Is that what you want?”

Suicide by secret. I hadn’t really considered it, but that’s Ms. Chancellor’s deepest fear, I can tell. It’s one more thing about which I can’t help but feel guilty.

“No. It’s … If I found it, maybe I could stop it—stop this.”

“Grace, listen to me.” Ms. Chancellor turns me to her and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Like a mother. And it makes me want to cry. “Even if you find whatever it is she found, it won’t change what happened to her. It won’t change what happened to Amelia. It won’t change who you are.”

What I did.

“Grace, if I could change this for you …” Ms. Chancellor trails off. “I know this isn’t how you saw your life playing out, and if there were any other way …”

She doesn’t have to finish. She’s a smart woman. She knows how the story ends.

So I look back at the pretty dresses that fill the pretty room, the perfect accessories for my new, ugly life.