3. Chapter Three

"Amara," my stepmother's voice sliced through the silence of the morning air. It was the first word spoken to me every morning. Rain or shine, her shrill voice greeted me.

"Yes?" I asked, turning to face her.

She looked picture-perfect. Not that I expected any less. Her ebony hair was twisted in a tight bun, the angles of her face were sharp, and her eyeliner was drawn on thicker than my hair.

"I need you to go pick up this list of things from the market, and none of that cheap stuff like last time."

I looked at the mile-long list and mentally groaned. "Yes ma'am."

She placed her hand on her slender hip and adjusted the top of her skin-tight maxi dress with her other hand. "I need you to pick up Stasa's dry cleaning, and Zella's homework. I'm keeping her out today because she's not feeling well."

Zella didn't feel well one to two times a week. I did not know how the girl was going to graduate next year. "Yes ma'am."

My stepmother eyed my worn boyfriend jeans and dad's old college t-shirt. If she recognized it, she didn't let on. Maybe it was the stepchild in me, but I never thought she truly cared about my father.

She looked at him and saw dollar signs, which paid for her Botox injections every three months, and her trips to Europe every summer. Not to mention the lavish lifestyle she lived because of the restaurant.

She walked toward the kitchen island, grabbed a banana, and slowly peeled it. "I put you on the schedule for tonight at the restaurant. One of the girls quit. The lazy pig."

I froze in the doorway to the kitchen. I knew she was talking about Kelsie, because she'd called her that before, and I'd never wanted to strike her more than I did then. Kelsie was a good worker, and the customers liked her, too.

"Kelsie?" I asked.

She waved me off. "Whatever her name was. When you get a chance, I emailed you some applications. Give them a look and make sure they look—presentable this time."

The knife lodged in my heart twisted. She'd been worried about appearances since I'd known her, which was for far too long. I'd almost felt bad for her girls because I didn't consider myself one, and the pressure she put on them to stay pretty.

It was nauseating.

"Sure thing."

"Have you taken your medicine?" she asked, before taking a bite of her banana.

"Yes," I said. It'd been instilled in me for decades not to miss one pill. Apparently, my mother had on occasion and it caused chaos around her.

I hurried out of the house, letting out an irritated sigh once I was out of hearing distance. I'd planned to go see Sasha at the museum to tell her about what happened.

I'd been in shock since I saw Dorran—The Dragon Prince in my window. Part of me chalked it up to be a dream. Why else would he follow me? Except to get an address so the guards could arrest me for trespassing.

It wouldn't surprise me if they were waiting when I got back from the market. Normally I would walk, but since my list was giant, I got into the small rundown Honda I'd bought with my restaurant money. Which was pennies considering the work I did.

The kingdom mimicked a normal town beside the guard wall, the castle, and the dragons. It was strange. They moved at a modern speed with restaurants and markets but kept most of their traditions.

I loved the castle. It fascinated me. I'd been on a tour once in elementary school, but I didn't get to see the good parts.

Sasha stood behind the podium when I walked in ten minutes later. The museum was dragon-inspired. It had their armor from back in the day, before the war, that landed them superior beings, and it showed.

Sasha perked up when I tossed a scone onto the podium. She pushed her dark bangs from her face. "God, why didn't I go to college? I could be partying with the best of them—,"

"You would have already graduated at this age. Unless you wanted to be a doctor, and I mean, come on?"

She laughed loudly, drawing the attention of a few tourists. "You're right. What brings you by other than food to add to these thighs?"

I bit my bottom lip and fiddled with the strap of my bag.

"Spill it," she said, over a bite.

"I caught Dorron peeking into my window last night."

Sasha choked on her scone and dramatically caught her breath. Loudly, she slammed her palm down on the podium. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking. Did you give it up? What happened? Did he call the guards?"

"I was pretending to be asleep when Stepmother came to check on me, and when I looked up, I caught him watching me."

Sasha's light eyes were wide in anticipation. "And?"

"He put his finger up to his mouth and flew off."

Sasha scoffed. "Seriously, Amara? You didn't invite him inside?"

"To do what?" I asked, digging my vibrating cell phone from my pocket. "For some tea in my attic? Right." I glanced down at my text. "The step-monster is adding to my list for the store. Blonde hair dye, seriously. Those girls need to stick with a color."

Sasha took another bite. "What did he want? Do you think he was curious about you?"

I scoffed at the thought. "What would The Dragon Prince want with me? Maybe he was curious about who he was going to send to jail. Perhaps?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I don't buy that. He could have snatched you up himself and taken you in. You intrigued him, Amara."

A hot rush of embarrassment flooded me. There was nothing to be curious about. "I have to go. Stepmother has a list of things for me to do, and she put me on the night shift. Kelsie quit."

Sasha frowned. "I liked her."

"I'm sure she was tired of her not-to-subtle cues about her weight."

Sasha flipped her hair over her shoulder. "She should embrace it like me. Boys like thick thighs. Well, some of ‘em, the good ones don't care what you look like."

I smiled at her. "See you later. Text me—,"

"You need to be ready in case he comes back, Amara. Wear something sexy to bed. No, close your blinds and make him tap on your window—,"

I glanced over my shoulder. "Stop. He was just making sure we went back home and wasn't sneaking back onto the bridge."

Sasha finished her scone and held her chin up with her palm. "You are one delusional woman."

It took me three hours to gather everything on the list, grab the dry cleaning, and make it back to the house. Which was in chaos when I stepped inside.

My stepmother was on the phone, gabbing and scribbling something down on a notepad. Zella was recording some video on her phone for her delusional social media influencer career. She must have begun to feel better all of a sudden.

Stasa was measuring herself with a soft measuring tape and screaming things at her mother. I stopped in the doorway and watched in shock at the circus unfolding in front of me.

Purposely, I kicked the door closed loudly and drew their attention. Zella scoffed and tossed her hands into the air. "Now I have to edit that loud sound out, Amara. Thanks a lot, you freaking reject." She tucked a piece of her naturally red hair behind her ear and smiled at her phone.

Sometimes I had dreams about a giant phone swallowing her alive.

"Did you get my dry cleaning?" Stasa, who was a college sophomore, asked. She raced over, snatched the bag off my shoulder, and began rifling through it. "I need a dress, Mother. I have no clothes."

"A dress for what?" I asked, placing the groceries down on the island. "Where is the fire?"

My stepmother hung up the phone and braced her palm on her forehead. "Dear God. Why didn't they give us more notice? A ball? Friday. Geesh, that's hardly enough time to get clothing together."

"What ball?" I asked, putting the groceries into the fridge.

My stepmother sighed deeply, a worry wrinkle forming on her forehead.

"Keep up, Amara," she said, picking up a white envelope on the island and handing it to me.

Looking down at the formal print, I knew it was from the Dragon family. The royals. Nerves skidded down my body at the thought of Dorran. Carefully, I flipped open the envelope and went to pull out the invitation.

Zella snatched it from my hands. "Why are you even looking at this? The Dragon Prince won't give you a second glance."

Why would he give any human a second glance?Dragons had human mates, but most of the time they stuck with their kind.

I snatched the invitation from her, and turned my back, ignoring her laughter and taunting behind me. I was used to blocking her out.

The invitation was fancy.

Reallyfancy.

Not that I expected anything less.

I skimmed the cursive writing.

A Dragon Ball was being hosted with the East Kingdom and the members of our kingdom on Friday at seven in honor of The Dragon Prince's search for a mate.

Warmth settled over my skin. The thought of his touch, those emerald green eyes, everything about the man called to me. And to every other woman in the kingdom.

Zella was right.

Every woman, dragon, and human, were to attend. It was mandatory.

I had to be there by law.

I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, and my fingers tightened around the invitation. What if I showed up, and he sent me to the dungeon for the bridge incident? Or he told the stepmother?

Crap. Crap. Crap—

There was a P.S. at the bottom of the invitation. It looked out of place as if it was written there without anyone knowing.

The Dragon Prince prefers blondes.