Royally Unexpected Book 4: Broken Prince

There’s a special place in hell for people who are jealous of their sisters. My spot has been reserved since I was just a little girl. I’m pretty sure Lucifer himself has a party planned for my arrival, complete with a thousand emerald balloons and a banner that says, ‘WELCOME HOME, IVY.’

Whenever I’m near my sister Margot, I bleed green. Envy curls in the pit of my stomach and sends roots into my heart, squeezing my insides until I can hardly breathe.

It’s happening right now, as Margot twirls in front of the mirror in yet another perfect, figure-hugging gown—which, by the way, she got for free. Yes, my sister is so beautiful that all she has to do is post pictures of herself online, and brands send her boxes and boxes of free things.

“Which one do you like better?” Margot asks, tilting her head. “I think the blue one might be more appropriate for a royal event, but this pink one would make a statement. Prince Luca seems like the kind of guy who would appreciate a statement.” She bites the inside of her cheek. “My stylist asked me to make a decision tonight so that she can put together my shoes and accessories before the event.”

Her long, false nails slide down her abdomen as she sucks in her flatter-than-flat stomach. My older sister is tall and willowy, with waist-length blonde hair and blue, come-hither eyes. All she has to do is bat her eyelashes at a man and he falls to his knees in front of her.

Why would Prince Luca be any different? I honestly don’t think it matters which dress she chooses. She could show up in flannel pajamas if she wanted to. People would call it fashion, darling and put her on the ‘Farcliff’s Best Dressed’ list.

Margot’s eyes move to my reflection in the mirror, and her eyebrows jump up in question.

I shrug. “Yeah, either one is nice.”

Margot’s shoulders fall, and a pang passes through my chest. I know she needs my support right now, and I’m not giving it to her. She’s meeting one of the Princes of Argyle tomorrow. The entire royal family of Argyle—the King and Queen, and two of the three Princes—have been invited to our Kingdom of Farcliff following the coronation of Prince Luca’s older brother, King Theo.

The Kingdoms of Argyle and Farcliff haven’t always had the best relations, but with King Theo in Argyle, and King Charlie here in Farcliff, there are high hopes of reconciliation. The formal dinner tomorrow night is an opening ceremony, of sorts, which will kick off the Argyle family’s month-long visit in Farcliff.

My sister—being one of the most famous celebrities in Farcliff—is invited to the ball. Me?

Not so much.

I guess the slightly shorter, slightly chubbier, black-haired version of Margot isn’t exactly in high demand.

Did I mention I’m most likely spending eternity in a fiery abyss?

I don’t even know why I’m so jealous. That dinner sounds like my idea of death by a thousand boring conversations. I’d rather pluck my leg hairs out one by one than spend time with the guests at tomorrow’s event.

Still, I envy her.

Margot’s management team has arranged to hook her up with Prince Luca, as he’s apparently the hottest thing since sliced bread. They think it’ll be good for her ‘image’ to have her dating a high-profile celebrity like the Prince. The Prince’s management team agrees, wanting to bring Argyle and Farcliff closer together. It’s a match made in royal Instagram heaven.

For a month, at least. All bets are off once Prince Luca leaves Farcliff again.

I swing my legs off the bed and stand up, throwing my jet-black hair into a messy bun. “Go with whatever dress you think is best, Margie. You know I’m no good at these things.”

Margot throws me a look when I say her name. Her real name. She changed it to Margot when she started acting, because her agent told her ‘Marguerite’ isn’t fame material. At least our mother died before that happened.

“I just want to make sure the Prince likes me.” Her eyes return to her reflection in the mirror.

Taking a deep breath, I put my hands on my sister’s shoulders. She swings her gaze back to me, and I force an encouraging smile. “He’s going to love you. Everyone does. Literally everyone—even me.”

Margot cracks a grin and shakes her head. With a sigh, she makes a decision. “I’m going to go with the blue one.”

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