1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

If only I could click the heels of these hot pink rhinestone platform sandals and travel somewhere else. It’s true that there’s no place quite like home, but I’m not sure where that is anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Concordia, the small, wealthy, and relatively unknown island nation north of England. However, being back on the Southern California coast after nearly a decade has me wondering where I belong.

The fresh ocean air moves deeply through my lungs, and the soft breeze coming through the open French doors leading to the balcony overlooking the Pacific carries memories of the last time I was here.

“Diana, I’m not sure pink is your color,” my cousin Cecily says.

“Hot pink,” one of the other bridesmaids adds.

“You went so bold with the hot pink and gold theme, Cecily,” another chirps.

Flustered, Cecily fans her face while stalking toward me. “What were you thinking getting a neon green pedicure? It clashes with your shoes. I thought I could rely on you, Diana.”

The other women in the bridal party tend to her with fluttery fuss before she has a meltdown.

I’ve never been the problem child, er, woman. I follow the rules, obey royal commands, and never do things so daring as getting my toenails painted neon. However, my regular nail technician was on holiday and I told the new one to do whatever she wanted. The color is the opposite of my usual style, but I have to admit, it’s fun.

Plus, it’s summer!

And I’m in California!

In the background, Cecily whines as the clock ticks closer to her march down the aisle. Meanwhile, the fresh eyelash extensions she insisted I wear move slightly—just on my left eye. I tell myself it’s not an eye twitch.

It’s not a twitch.

It’s. Not. A. Twitch.

Aunt Helene huffs and the general conversation in the room floats back to me. “It’s too late now to change Diana’s toenail polish color. Anyway, it depends on how they catch the light. It’s summer, the pink and green pairing kind of, um, works.”

Cecily pouts. “If only you’d been able to attend the fittings, you would’ve known to go with a different color or if you’d gone with us to the spa the other day, you would’ve matched us. Everything is ruined.”

“Diana is a busy royal and has her own wedding to plan on top of a country to help run soon. It’s enough that she came all this way for your wedding,” Aunt Helene reminds my spoiled cousin.

I appreciate my aunt taking my side on this because Cecily is being rather unreasonable, but the last thing I want to think about right now is my upcoming wedding or stepping into an official role in Concordian policy-making.

My mother and her minions have full jurisdiction over what’s been dubbed “The wedding of the era.” Not only did she choose my gown, but she also picked out my husband.

To be clear, I am not in my wedding era. Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to tie the knot someday, but Antony isn’t the guy of my dreams. More like my nightmares.

As for the comment about helping to run the country, the marriage partnership is strategic because I’ll be taking command of the Concordian National Bank. Let’s say my strength does not rest in finance, but as a duchess, that’s the direction I’m supposed to go. The money management gene passed to my sister, Katherine, but she did not get the official title.

“She’s such a princess,” Cecily mutters as the rest of the bridal party does last-minute touch-ups to what they’re calling her “party pony.”

My mother would never let me get away with anything less than a chignon on my wedding day. That’s no slight to Aunt Helene. I’m merely noting the differences in our lifestyles and the expectations placed upon us—including in the hair and makeup department.

My eye twitches slightly. I mean my eyelash. It’s probably a reaction to the glue.

With a perfectly practiced smile, I say, “Technically, I’m not a princess. My formal title is Duchess Diana Daniels Barclay of Marquand.”

“Still, you’re royalty.” Cecily all but sticks out her tongue at me as if we’re eight years old again.

“You could’ve been royalty too if you’d married Lord Hindfrith Lanchaster,” Aunt Helene says.

“And be miserable? He has the personality of a pea. Plus, I can’t keep track of all the fancy princess stuff.”

“Duchess,” I correct. “Concordia has a unique monarchy and peerage system. My place is below the princess but above the marchioness,” I say to clarify.

Cecily breezes past my comment. “Speak English, would you? Anyway, I’m marrying for love.”

“And Gage’s trust fund,” murmurs one of the bridesmaids.

Once upon a time, I had true love. But we were young, maybe a little starry-eyed or star-crossed. I think Sunny feared he couldn’t be with me, so he quietly pushed me away. I was terrified of upsetting my mother, so I obediently went along with her plans.

But we had our own. We’d talked about getting married after high school and opening a surf shop. We’d live and breathe the beach and grow old together. Have a family and happy holidays and summer reunions. It would’ve been great, but that was almost ten years ago and I have to accept my fate.

Cecily is marrying her Sunny, and I’m stuck with Antony. I’d shot for the stars while Sunny stuck with the surf when we could’ve had each other.

I keep my thoughts to myself because you never know who in this room might report back to Momzilla HQ in Concordia. I’ve always felt like she has eyes everywhere, so I never step a toe out of line. Then again, I am wearing neon toenail polish, which is absolutely forbidden.

What happens in SoCal stays in SoCal, right?

My eye twitches again.

“Stop fussing. You’ll ruin your makeup,” Aunt Helene orders her daughter.

Even though her sister (my mother) is the archduchess, the Daniels women have a way of locking down order. Again, I did not receive that particular quality. I’m more of a pleaser.

Aunt Helene adds, “It’s almost showtime.”

Cecily gets to her feet, does a twirl, and says, “How do I look?”

All the women in the room clap and cheer, feeding her compliments. Cecily glows and looks gorgeous, embodying the fact that this is her big day.

Being part of this bridal party reminds me that my personal countdown is on, bringing me closer to my autumn wedding. My eye twitches. I glance over my shoulder at the exit, then tell myself it’s just a little bit longer until I can go back to ignoring that my life is going to change significantly come September.

Some people have a personal assistant. I have Myra, a personal attendant. My mother insisted she travel with me in case “I want anything.” Archduchess Sybil cannot fathom going a mere two seconds without having all her needs met while at the same time not realizing that the Myras of the world can’t meet all our needs. At present, mine include:

To loosen this gown

To get today over with

To dip my toes in the ocean

As we gather by the door, Aunt Helene leans in and, at a stage whisper, says, “I always knew you had a little sass in you.”

Chin tucked, I balk. “What do you mean?”

“Why Sybil sent you to our mother’s villa in Palisade Shores all those years ago, thinking that would knock the delinquency out of you, is beyond me. Mom was a spicy little firecracker.”

“Aunt Helene, pardon me. I was not a delinquent.”

“Oh, come on. We all know you broke some rules. Snuck out of the palace? Fooled around with the help? Played dress up with the crown jewels. You can tell me.” She waggles her eyebrows, eager for gossip.

I shake my head slowly. My brother was the one who got into trouble. “About going to Palisade Shores during high school, Gran-mère asked if I could stay with her for the year. She thought it would be good for me to live among the normal people.” I use air quotes and a sly thought creeps in. What would my fingernails look like with matching neon polish?

“That does sound like something she would’ve said. As if she was at all normal.” Aunt Helene smiles as if remembering the unique personality of Eviana Daniels, my grandmother.

“It was quite a change from Intherness, but it was the best year of my life.” I wander down memory lane, recalling my first day at Palisade Shores High School, making friends (and a few enemies), seeing Sunny for the first time, and feeling my heart swoop in my chest...

“I’m surprised you haven’t sold the house,” Aunt Helene adds.

“What house?” My stomach drops as if it senses where this is going before my mind catches up with the reality of what I’m hearing.

“Gran-mère’s villa, silly. I figured you’d be out here long before now since the rest of us were forbidden to so much as set foot on the property.” In a whisper, she adds, “If it’s all the same, I would love the painting of the daisies. That was my favorite, and if it isn’t too much to ask for a broach, cameo, or something of hers that I can pass along to Cecily.”

I frown, not having thought about the Mediterranean-style mansion on the coast after Gran-mère passed away a few years ago. My mother makes it clear that those sorts of matters aren’t my concern—not that I asked specifically about the house.

The bridesmaids bustle around, giggling and reminding Cecily to take a deep breath.

Me too.

My voice is small when I ask, “Aunt Helene, I don’t understand.”

Oh, but I think I do by the way my throat tightens and the air is suddenly thick.

She inclines her head and then her eyes go as large as saucers. “Your mother didn’t tell you, did she? That sneak. Sybil wants it for herself, just like everything else. Well, you can’t unring a bell, now, can you? Your grandmother left the villa to you, Diana.”

“That can’t be right, and why would that be kept a secret?” Sipping the air, I regret not being at the fitting because this gold sequined mermaid-style gown that’s fitted to my knees with the dramatic flare at the bottom is rather snug.

What I’d like right now is to be able to take deep a breath, have a break, and steal a moment where I’m left unattended. Don’t get me wrong, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Myra had a magic wand because she makes things happen. Like keeping me supplied with the chewy double chocolate brownies I’ve been enjoying lately, making sure I have ample amounts of purple shampoo and conditioner so my blonde hair doesn’t go green from my long swims, and prescreening my emails are all very helpful.

But what I want is...to be normal again. Just like Gran-mère did for me all those years ago. But Myra is on my mother’s payroll and Gran-mère is gone, leaving me not alone, but not on the road to normal, either.

“Are you ready, Diana?” Aunt Helene asks.

“Of course.” I’m not. It’s like I’d been on a stage and the curtain dropped, catching me in the fabric.

“Now, go dazzle.”

I’m pretty sure that’s the bride’s role, but Aunt Helene considers it an honor that I bothered to come all this way. Not that I had much choice. With my mother deeply involved in wedding planning, I’m serving as the family emissary.

My mother, Sybil, married Archduke Rupert of Marquand, fully entering aristocracy. She will do whatever it takes to continue to maintain and advance the family position in Concordia. That means me tying the knot with Antony the Mega Doux of Gauntsham...and possibly keeping my inheritance from my grandmother a secret. But why?

As we parade down the hall, Aunt Helene smiles warmly at her daughter and then turns to me. “You’re next. My, how quickly you girls grew up.”

She waxes nostalgic about us getting married. However, she doesn’t include my younger sister, Katherine. As the eldest, I was in line for duchess, leaving my sister free to study and experience life. She’s traveled all over the world, has three degrees, and her kindness combined with her intelligence makes her legitimately accomplished.

She and our brother Daniel were able to live relatively normal lives—if you consider Danny playing video games all day normal. Meanwhile, I had to shadow our mother and learn all the rules of living in the peerage, which Concordia takes very seriously.

If only Katherine and I could switch places. She’d make a much better duchess. My left eye twitches like one of Uncle Broyle’s dance moves, which we’ll all soon have the displeasure of witnessing. No offense, Uncle Broyle.

I dab at the corners of my eyes, wishing these false eyelashes weren’t so heavy...along with the uncertainty that weighs me down.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a spoiled princess, taking this world of luxury and grandeur for granted. I love a pedicure as much as the next gal, but it comes with a price.

There is no privacy. I cannot recall the last time I was in a room alone except to sleep and even then, Myra’s room is attached to mine in case “I want anything.”

My bodyguard is like a ghost, but he’s always nearby too. Sometimes I think there’s more than one.

Decisions are not my own—not what I do with my time, who I spend it with, or what my day looks like.

As the wedding march plays and we take our positions, I glance over my shoulder through the window at the ocean—wild and free.

I wish I could say the same about my future. Well, let’s be real. I’m Diana. I’ll just take the free part. Cecily and her hot pink and gold-themed wedding can keep the wild. Let’s not get too carried away.

However, I am rather fond of these neon-green painted toenails.