her body. She turned her face into a pillow. What am I thinking? Robert is a dear friend, a brother. Stepbrother, no relation. She growled at her racing thoughts, threw the covers to the side and sat up. “This is not helping, Mars.” She launched herself from the bed. Cold water on her face helped clear her thoughts. Any considerations of her dearest friend were pointless. She forced herself to think of Robert and Cinderella twirling through the ballroom. That was the threat needing to be thwarted. Threat? She groaned once more.
The door slammed against the wall. Marissa jumped, her yelp echoing through the room. Heart thumping in her chest, she glared at her mother standing in the doorway.
“I don’t like this.” The older woman glided into the room, her smooth motions at odds with the fire of her voice. “What is the meaning of this?” Her green eyes blazed as she hissed.
Marissa huffed, but her mother continued to rant. “He was meant for you. Prince Robert has always been meant for you.”
Marissa looked down at the hand gripping her arm, and then frowned. “Robert and I are friends. We consider each other brother and sister. I will never enter any other relationship with him. You know this because I’ve told you countless times.”
Lady DeGanne shook her head sadly. “But it’s supposed to be you. He cares for you, and you care for him, even if you’re afraid to admit such a thing to yourself.” She flailed her arms. “You could be queen.”
“I don’t want to be queen. It is enough to have grown up as a king’s daughter. I am the prince’s friend, nothing more.”
“You are a fool, Marissa. Yes, you are young, but if you do nothing, Robert will find the woman and he will be out of your reach forever.”
“Mother.” Marissa glared, fighting tears.
“I’m sorry.” Lady DeGanne bent her slender body onto a settee. “I am furious with you. You will do nothing, allowing this … this woman we know nothing about to lure the prince into marriage. Be honest. Can you tell me your heart will feel nothing when he weds?”
“Robert has chosen.” She crossed her arms. What right did she have to push so hard? “He will do everything he can to find Cinderella.”
“Which leaves you forty days to convince him you are the better woman.”
“I’m not.” Marissa shook her head, frustrated with herself and her determined mother. Forty days? The traditional engagement period, of course. A headache flared to life. She rubbed her forehead. Cinderella would live in the palace, chaperoned by the mothers. Her own mother, in this case. She gave her mother a hard look. “You will do nothing to interfere.”
“How could I not? I’m supposed to accept a nobody over my own daughter?”
“I will leave, I swear it. Robert with Cinderella is enough to deal with, not you as well.”
Anger melted away and her mother beamed with pleasure. “You do care.”
“I said nothing of the sort.” Marissa protested, but her mother didn’t notice. She rose, swept her skirts into order, and sailed from the room.
Marissa groaned, and fell back on the bed. Has morning changed Robert’s feelings? Marissa stared at the ceiling, but the swirls of puffy clouds painted against soft blue gave no answer. I will find him myself and gage if his senses have recovered. She rang the bell for assistance with her morning gown.
15
In the hours between dawn and noon, an army of workers had restored the castle to its traditional splendor. The one remnant remaining of the ball included a blood-red cloth covering a single table, upon which sat a glass slipper. Marissa clenched her abdomen as something inside her ached. Beside the table, in a tall, gilded chair, Prince Robert slept. One leg propped against the seat allowed his hand to reach toward the slipper. He leaned to the side. Stubble had grown into a shadow covering the lower portion of his face. There was nothing peaceful about his sleep. His body twitched, and his hand closed into a fist, as though trying to pull away from something unseen.
Marissa ran to his side, turning her back on the offensive reminder of the previous evening. She knelt beside the chair, taking his hand in her own. His struggle ceased, and he opened his eyes.
“Marissa,” he greeted her with a smile.
“Good morning. Well, afternoon.” Her eyes searched his. Encouraged by the clarity she saw in him, her smiled brightened.
His hand warmed her cheek. “It seems we have gone