Everly

Two weeks prior

Oh no, I completely lost track of time!

Tonight is the meeting I’ve both dreaded and anticipated for years now, and all I wanted was to get it over with. I grab my skirt lying next to me. When I arrived at The Ridge this afternoon, it was too nice of a day not to bask in the sun—so nice, I decided to lie out in my panties. Not only am I indecent now, but I’m also late for my meeting with the prince.

I put the uncomfortable, stiff material back on after climbing down the rocks. Once I’m back on ground level, I hobble on one foot as I slip on my shoes and then take off running. Don’t let my eagerness to be on time cause any confusion. This is not an appointment I wish to attend.

Glancing down at the outfit my mom chose—that’s now a rumpled skirt with scuffed shoes—causes me to laugh. If I show up like this, the prince will surely move on to the next bachelorette.

The Prince of Canterbury is expected to marry someone from noble family lineage based on nothing more than tradition. I believe it’s their way of keeping the high society members separate from the “normal” people, but that’s just my opinion.

As a Stone family heir, it is my birthright to meet with the Prince to determine if I’m considered marriage material for him. The tradition goes back to the beginning days of Canterbury, and the fact that this is still in place blows my mind.

I’ve never seen Prince Sage up close—or on his own in recent photos. His family has kept him out of the limelight since his fourteenth birthday. He showed up for random photo ops, but he always stood in the back, seemingly hidden on purpose. Aside from that, he is a huge mystery.

There’s speculation over why, but I can only imagine it’s because he’s turned into someone they aren’t proud of. With a high-browed, aristocratic family that’s so big on impressions, he must be a wreck if they don’t parade him around like they do his sister.

Most girls would die for the chance to be a princess, but having it forced down my throat from the time I could walk by an overly eager mother, it became a nightmare.

Every stand-up-straight, hold your chin up, place your hand in your lap while you eat, and suck in your stomach directive, was all to bring me to this moment. Even my name represents my happily ever after.

The thought causes me to stop and let out a heavy sigh. My happily ever after has nothing to do with marrying a prince. Marrying for love, yes. But for prestige—that has never appealed to me. I’m only going along with this farce to appease my mom; I’d hate to let her down.

When the king sent the invitation for us to convene at The Ridge, a resort at the top of Mount Palisade, I was surprised. My mother has worked at the resort my entire life, so it’s a second home to me.

Nestled on top a small mountain peak, The Ridge is where I run when I want to escape. The lavish mid-century style hotel is where all the upper society of Canterbury comes to flaunt their wealth with views only they can afford.

Behind the resort are massive rocks where I lay and breathe my stress away. Today it was my solace, and now, as I approach the back entrance to the resort, I am feeling dim.

Taking a deep breath, I fix my skirt, straighten my shirt over it, and pick a leaf out of my hair. Hopefully, my face isn't too red from the sun and my makeup hasn’t run.

I pull open the doors to see my frantic mother.

“Where have you been?” she whisper-shouts, guiding me to the ladies room. “I saw their car pulling up. I can't believe you’re going to keep him waiting. What kind of first impression is that? You've ruined your chances for sure.”

I want to yell, no, scream at her. I hope I did ruin my chances, but I won’t. This is her only dream for me, and I hate to shatter it after all she’s sacrificed.

“Here.” She shoves a hanger in my face, the long, flowing skirt from my closet falling from the metal. “Dress fast. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

I head into a stall, close the door, and raise the top over my head. “Surprised you thought to bring a change of clothes.”

She lets out a sarcastic huff. “I know my daughter. From the red in your cheeks, I presume you fell asleep.”

We fought over what I should wear all week. She wanted me in the dreadful ensemble that’s thankfully lying on the floor now. This outfit is me, more so than anything else in my closet.

I pull the skirt up, slip the new shirt on, and then leave the stall.

Mom rushes to fix my hair. “Everly, do you understand what it took for me to arrange this meeting? I fought for you to have this opportunity. You don’t see it now, but this is a blessing.”

Through the mirror, I stare at my mother’s reflection. We’re spitting images of each other. Everything except the worry lines and every hard days work she’s endured that’s starting to show on her face. I know she means well, but I wish she would stop treating me like a little girl.

“I’m going, but this is not the life I wish to live.”

She runs a brush through my hair. “What would you prefer? Running around with a camera on your back?”

Ever since I was in high school, I’ve dreamt of being a documentarian sharing the human-interest stories of the underprivileged. I want to travel the world, enrich my life with different cultures, and impart what I’ve learned with everyone. I’ve already started producing my own film.

Our eyes meet through the glass. “Is it wrong to want to contribute to society as a strong, independent woman with a career of my own?”

With a sigh, she places her hands on my shoulders. “You can contribute more as a princess.”

“I wouldn’t be able to make my documentary.”

“But you’d make other memories.”

I grit my teeth, upset that she would compare my dreams of making documentary films to just memories. “And what about love?”

Her determined stare wavers as she takes in my words. She had this chance when she was my age, but blinded by the love of my father, she threw it all away. Instead, she decided to marry my dad before King William chose his bride to be.

My father was a commoner in the minds of the affluent people of Canterbury. When my mom married him, her family and the community shunned her, but it didn’t matter. Only love did.

That is, until my dad passed away before I was born. From what I’ve heard about him, he was an extraordinary man who loved my mother more than life itself. I wish I’d had a chance to meet him. When my mom says I’m exactly like him, I can’t help but be filled with pride for the man who helped give me life.

Ever since his death, she’s struggled financially, but I’ve always had a roof over my head and food on the table. We may not have had everything, but we’ve had some good times together. She swears the only way I won’t have to struggle through life is if I marry Prince Sage, the next king of our small blip of an island country.

While my mother spouts this marriage is the best thing that could ever happen to me, I often wonder if she believes her own words. She ponders what her life would be like had she not married my dad. However, the way she gazes so longingly at my father’s picture every night, I know despite what she says—deep down—she would do it all over again.

That’s why I choose love. Not the prince.

I won’t settle for anything more than someone who lights my world on fire. Someone who challenges me, but allows me to be the person I am. I know that person exists somewhere. I’m willing to place my bets on him instead of throwing my dream away for a life of prestige and money.

With a small shake of her head, she moves away from me and grabs shoes from her bag. Placing them on the ground in front of me, she says, “You need mascara.”

There is no use rehashing the past or pleading for my desire to shape my own destiny, for that matter.

“Someday you’ll realize how blessed you are to be a Stone,” she says after I’ve freshened my makeup.

“We’re Stanley women, Mother. I have—and always will be—my father’s daughter.”

She tsks. “I swear, it's like you don’t want this to go well for us,” she states, pushing me toward the door.

“Us?” I tilt my head in her direction.

“You know what I mean.” She waves her hand dismissively.

Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.

I stand up straight and suppress my sigh. Looking at the reflection staring back at me, I prepare to enter the performance room that unfortunately could become my life.