To Steal a Prince by Cora Caraway

with this crowd, you can’t. They’ll judge you on a strand of hair that’s out of place.”
    “Isn’t that a little much?” I cringe as Eris ruthlessly sorts out a snarl.
    “Yes. But that’s the least of your worries.” The maid doesn’t elaborate, and I’m not keen to follow up when my scalp’s on fire.
    “I can do this myself, you know.”
    Eris stops. “Of course you can’t. Not perfectly. And it needs to be perfect, or His Highness wouldn’t have asked me to help you. Now sit still.”
    The girl brushes my hair as if it insulted her mother. I grit my teeth, determined not to make a sound. I don’t know who devised this torturous test, but I’m determined to pass.
    “There.” At last, the girl puts the brush down.
    I sigh with relief. “Is that all?”
    “We’ve just started.” A wicked grin spreads across her face. “Time to move into the bathroom.”
    She points me to a chair. “Sit.”
    Warily, I sink into the leather.
    “Take off your shirt.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me. Now. We’re running out of time.”
    She’s awfully authoritative for a maid. Surely Damon wouldn’t have left me with her if she were deranged or something. Though I’m reluctant, I slip off my tank top.
    Eris immediately covers me in a billowing cloth, fastening it behind my neck. She swivels the chair around. “Lay your head in the sink.”
    My throat feels very vulnerable, but I obey. She douses me with frothy shampoo, then conditioner. I’m rinsed, dried, and straightened. My hair looks sleeker than it ever has before, but I get one glimpse in the mirror before I’m forced to lie in the chair again.
    “What now?” I try to keep my annoyance out of my tone, but I don’t think I succeed.
    Eris brandishes a bottle of nail polish. “Clear gloss.”
    “Will that even have time to dry?”
    “It will, believe me.”
    As it does, she plucks my eyebrows.
    “It’s hard to shape your brows with you frowning, you know.”
    I clench my hands into fists. “It’s hard not to when you’re wrenching out my hair.”
    Eris sets the tweezers on the counter. “Would you like to do this yourself?”
    “Wouldn’t that get you in trouble too?”
    The girl glares at me. “I’m already in trouble, aren’t I? You’ve told His Highness how I was rude to you last night.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “So…” the girl twirls a strand of hair. “I’m not being punished?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “Oh.” Eris looks at the floor. “Thanks for not tattling.”
    “What are we, seven?”
    The girl still won’t meet my gaze, but she picks up the tweezers. I’m glad we got that sorted, because she’s much gentler now.
    Eris dabs me with a light layer of makeup, though she’s generous with the concealer around my lip. Despite her soft touch, my lip still throbs as she applies lipstick.
    “We’re going to go with a strong shade of red. If the lights are dim enough, maybe they’ll miss that gash. But for the love of little lions, don’t wipe it off.”
    She sweeps my hair into a bun. Her deft fingers form a braid that she threads around the base. I eye my profile in the angled mirrors. Since I never know what to do with my hair, I usually leave it down, or in a loose ponytail for jobs. But in a few deft motions, Eris has made me elegant. For a brief moment, I feel worthy of a prince.
    The girl catches my eye in the mirror, and I look into my lap. I don’t know how to properly thank her for what she’s given me.
    “Come on.” Giving me her hand, Eris pulls me up. “Back to the dressing room.” Once there, she tears the cloth from me, leaving me in my bra and shorts. I’m thankful that she doesn’t seem to judge me at all, to size me up like most of the men I meet. She just looks bored.
    “Lose the shorts.” The girl turns to the closet to pull out a slim turquoise dress.
    The material shimmers in the dying light. “I’m going to wear that?”
    “Not with shorts you aren’t.”
    I kick them off,