To Steal a Prince by Cora Caraway Page B

opposite his parents. He smiles, trying to encourage me. I feel so very on display. My palms sweat. Everyone’s staring at me, probably because I’m standing here like a weirdo. But what am I supposed to do? I feel like I’m about to keel over.
    That’s it. Eris taught me to bow. If I’m going to fall, I might as well do it with style. How did it go again? Foot forward. One hand to the side, the other to my forehead. Elbows bent. I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I complete my bow.
    I’m met with titters and muffled laughter. Straightening, I look around the hall. Many white gloves are pressed to smirking lips. The monarchs do not look amused. I might have been misinformed on exactly the kind of impression this bow would make.
    A man next to Damon starts clapping. No one joins him, but this doesn’t seem to bother him. “Excellent.” He rises from his chair. “I’ve never seen a bow like that before. Where are you from?”
    My face must be glowing red. “California.”
    The king clears his throat, and the dining staff takes that as their cue to resume their activities. I wish I could melt through the floor.
    Damon glides to my side, offering me his arm. “Sit by me.”
    “Why didn’t you warn me?” I only take his arm because my feet aren’t steady in these unfamiliar heels.
    “Warn you? A car crash barely fazed you; I didn’t think you would need a warning.”
    “Of course I did!” I try to keep my voice low, but a note of hysteria creeps in. “I thought dinner would just be with you, not the whole royal family.”
    “I can’t say you have the best luck. We only eat together once a week, and it happened to be tonight.”
    How can he do that? His hazel eyes tease me even as his expression remains serious. I realize that his tie matches my dress.
    “May I seat you, Lady Sparrow?” Nic appears behind me to pull out a chair. He gives no indication that we’ve ever met before, and won’t meet my eyes.
    “Thank you.” If he wants to make me mad, he’ll have to try harder another time.
    The prince takes his seat.
    “Did you teach her to bow like that, Damie?”
    I see Damon’s pinky twitch at the nickname. “I didn’t. I thought it was charming, though. Grace, I’m pleased to introduce my brother, Marc.” From his tone, he doesn’t sound entirely pleased.
    “Nice to meet you, Grace. It’s been so long since we’ve met a friend of Damon’s. Who was it last week, Kayla? Or was she the week before?”
    Twitch.
    “Will your friend be arriving soon, Marc?” I ask. “I’d love to meet her.”
    His expression sours, and he turns away from us. Behind me, Nic muffles a guffaw.
    Damon’s shoulders relax. “I can teach you how ladies of our court curtsey, if you’d like.”
    “I would.” I resist the urge to lay my hand in his lap.
    “After dinner, of course,” the queen says.
    “Of course, Mother.”
    His voice is oddly stiff. From the way he spoke of her at the museum, I thought he loved her—and that she was dead. Maybe something else happened between them.
    At some silent signal, servants step forward to place bowls of water next to everyone. I know this one. I dip my fingers in as Damon does, trying to act like I’ve done this before. I’m glad I’ve seen enough movies that I know it’s not some kind of clear soup. Dabbing my fingers on a napkin, I steel myself for the dinner to come. I won’t make a fool of myself again if I can help it.
    Our bowls are ferried away, and bowls of actual soup are placed before us. I stare at the table. I know that the napkin goes in my lap, but why is there so much silverware? The soup spoon is obvious, but after that I’ll be lost.
    “Start on the outside,” Damon murmurs. “Work your way in with each course. It’s not too complicated.”
    The soup spoon is the one farthest out. I think I can manage that. Across from us, the king and queen sip their soup. This is happening. I’m really dining with royalty. Wait until Gabe hears about