I gasped as the corset top tightened, glaring at my sister in the mirror.

“You did that on purpose.”

Ilana grinned at me, her big blue eyes twinkling mischievously as she finished pulling at the back of the dress.

“A little.”

I stuck my tongue out at my oldest sister as she finished lacing up the back and stood back, appraising her handiwork.

“Well, you can thank me now, because you look hot.”

I made a face in the mirror, glancing at the pile of dark blonde hair balanced on top of my head, the perfectly applied makeup around my dark eyes and full lips, and the — admittedly — gorgeous gown that now flowed down from my exposed shoulders like a yellow and gold chiffon waterfall.

Okay, yes, I looked fantastic. I looked beautiful. I looked poised. I looked put together, and regal, and like a perfect porcelain doll ready to be placed on a shelf. I looked exactly how a princess should look.

Which is exactly why I frowned at what I saw in that mirror.

I hated having to “look the part,” and I definitely hated having to go to things like the ball tonight.

Our father, the reigning King of Avlion, finally acquiescing to our mother’s complaints, had finally agreed that it was high time for Ilana, Imogen, and I to start finding suitable matches for marriage.

High time indeed.

I was eighteen already, Ilana was three years my senior, Imogen two, and we’d never even been on a normal date. Because no, chaperoned, forty-person dinners, lawn parties, and balls don’t count as dates.

But that was changing. King Lucian, our father and lord of our kingdom, was finally looking for eligible men of the right means and pedigree to marry his daughters, and tonight’s ball was our grand unveiling. And not just us, either. There were a number of eligible princesses that were now at marrying age who’d be joining us in this ridiculously antiquated function. It was silly. I mean, we did live in a kingdom, in a castle and all of that, but that didn’t mean we had to pretend we were in King Arthur’s time or something.

Well, tonight we did, apparently. Tonight, we’d pretend we didn’t live in the age of the internet, and dating apps, and Facebook, and instead we’d spend the evening dancing with eligible princes, to a string quartet, in gowns.

Welcome to the 21st century, right?

And the other thing of it was, this whole princess thing was all lost on me. On Ilana though? Well on my older sister, it fit like a freaking glove. She had the long blonde tangles, the big blue eyes, the perfect waist-to-hips ratio, the dainty demeanor — all of it. She knew when to curtsey, when to “demure” her eyes, when to use the right titles, or the right serving forks.

In short, she was the ideal princess. I mean, honestly, the fact that I’d never walked in on her having a singalong with woodland creatures actually shocked me.

But me? Well, let’s just say I’d never mastered the curtsey and I had no idea which fork to use, for anything. Ilana fit the part — she played the role perfectly. But I’d known young the whole “princess” thing was going to be a sticking point with me. I preferred the library to the ballroom. I preferred bare feet to heels, jeans to gowns, and a quiet night curled up with a book to one spent twirling around with handsy, rich, pompous windbags trying to marry their way into my father’s titles. Not to mention my bed.

Yeah, no thanks.

“You two ready to go yet?”

Imogen stuck her head into my room. God, that dress looked amazing on her. Chartreuse green with gold trim which played off her fire-red hair perfectly and made her emerald green eyes pop.

“Oh, c’mon, Isla, maybe try smiling tonight?”

I rolled my eyes at both of my sisters, doing my best to hide the grin. In spite of both of them being “perfect” princesses, I knew neither of them was thrilled about all this either. It wasn’t Ilana’s fault that she’d been born blonde, and and blue eyed, and knowing when to say the right things. Just like it wasn’t Imogen’s for being born taller than either of us, with crazy long legs, perfect cheekbones, and killer wavy hair. They just both fell into the role we all had to play a little more naturally than I did.

“Can’t we just skip this, go lock ourselves in the media room, and watch movies and stuff our faces with ice cream all night?”

“I am so down for that,” Imogen groaned, sinking onto the corner of my bed. “Tonight is going to blow.”

Ilana groaned. “Don’t tempt me, cause I would totally blow this off if I didn’t think mom and dad would kill us if we did.”

I giggled. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Isla, I think dad would notice if we weren’t there tonight.”

I made a pouty face in the mirror.

“Besides,” Imogen sighed. “On the bright side, this is dad actually letting us date.”

“As if it’s the seventeen hundreds, sure.”

Ilana laughed. “Oh calm down. It could actually be fun, you know. Yeah, there are some douchey princes out there—”

“Some?”

She grinned, rolling her eyes at me. “Okay, there are a lot of douchebag princes out there. But there are some hot, nice ones too.” She sighed. “And like it to not, Iz, we are of marrying age. We can’t hang out in mom and dad’s castle forever.”

“Watch me.”

They both giggled, and Ilana shook her head.

“Well, that’s happening, because that’s our role to play. And it’s not like you have any prospects.”

“I do too.”

Ilana’s brow cocked as she glanced at Imogen. “Oh, really?”

I held my head high, avoiding both of their smirking eyes as I turned back to feign fixing my hair in the mirror. “Yep.”

Imogen snorted. “Like?”

“What?”

She finally caught my gaze in the mirror and gave me a look. “You’re dodging the question.”

“No I’m not.”

“Fine.” Ilana shrugged. “So who’s the lucky man then?”

I glanced down. “Prince Aaron,” I mumbled.

“Speak up.”

I signed. “Prince Aaron, if you really must know.”

My older sisters exploded in laughter. “Prince Aaron of Londaria?” Ilana’s grin was huge across her face. “Isla, that’s four kingdoms over, and you’ve met once.”

“And he was very nice,” I snapped back.

“He smiled at you and held a door for you, and that was once, a year ago.”

“Well that’s nice isn’t it?” I muttered.

“Have you spoken since?”

I didn’t answer Imogen.

“I didn’t think so.” Ilana sighed. “Look, I know it’s not our ideal Saturday night, but tonight’s going be good for you, you know. For all of us.”

“No it's not.”

“You do look great.”

“Well…”

“And there’ll be lots of princes tonight.”

“Maybe I don’t want a prince.”

“Tell that to our father,” Imogen muttered as she stood and checked her hair in the mirror.

I snorted. Yeah, right.

“Hey,” Ilana elbowed me in the ribs and winked. “You might even get lucky.”

Now that was a joke. Under King Lucian’s castle roof, you could be damn sure all three of his daughters were virgins. I had a hard time imagining that changing tonight.

Ilana took one more look in the mirror, smoothing down her gorgeous blue sequined gown and smoothing her perfectly plaited and bobby-pinned blonde hair.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I sighed.

She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, dear sisters. Let’s go find ourselves some husbands.”

Imogen rolled her eye at me over Ilana’s shoulder. “Oh my God, what year is—”

“And if I hear either of you moaning about ‘what year it is’ or if I hear the word ‘antiquated,’ I swear I’m pushing you into the punch bowl.”

I grinned and stuck my tongue out at her. “Fine. Let’s go get this over with."