The Prince's Fake Fiancée. Leah Ashton
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all laughed. ‘No,’ Marko said. ‘I should’ve explained. When no one’s watching, there’s no need for any pomp and ceremony.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Petra. ‘We’re all really normal, actually.’
‘Hmm...’ was all Jasmine could manage. She was standing in a turret or a tower, with oversized lancet windows, walls full with oil paintings of previous monarchs, and there was a full suit of knight’s armour standing beside one of the armchairs. ‘Normal’ didn’t really explain any of this.
Lukas laughed. ‘Come on, you’ve been with Marko for six months, you must know by now there isn’t anything special about him.’
Marko grinned. ‘No, she’s already pointed out that I don’t have any of your kingliness.’
‘Kingliness?’ Lukas laughed out loud. ‘I like it. I do try my best to be suitably kingly at all times.’
Jasmine silently waited for the floor to open up and swallow her.
Petra saved her. ‘Ignore them,’ she said. ‘Walk with me to the ballroom and tell me all about yourself—I need to know all about the woman who has captured my brother-in-law’s heart.’
Petra headed out of the room, obviously expecting Jas to follow. Jas looked to Marko—but he nodded that she should go.
His smile had fallen away, Jas noticed—as had Lukas’s.
For the first time, Jas remembered how sick the King was.
‘Jasmine?’ Petra prompted, and Jas hurried to catch up.
‘Can you tell me when I’m supposed to curtsey and stuff tonight?’ she asked as they traversed the hallway, skirts rustling in tandem. ‘Marko said it didn’t matter, but it does to me.’
A white lie, but this level of detail hadn’t occurred to her when she’d agreed to this charade.
‘Of course,’ Petra said. ‘I had to learn all this too. It does get easier, I promise. One day it’ll be second nature for you.’
‘I can’t imagine it,’ Jas replied, honestly.
Petra paused when they reached the end of the corridor, standing in the palace’s huge entry foyer. Behind her twin staircases swept upwards to meet at the first-floor landing and the biggest chandelier Jas had ever seen glittered above them, making the marble floor shimmer and sparkle. Around them palace staff bustled busily, with guests due to arrive any moment.
‘Really,’ Petra said. ‘One day I woke up and the palace felt like home.’
Home?
Jas smiled, relieved she could finally be completely honest. ‘I’m sure this place will never feel like home to me.’
After all, in three months’ time she’d be back in her real home, and this palace—and this night—would feel like no more than a dream.
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