Page 118 of Royally In Trouble
“You know, some might say a crouton is already dried up.” I take a sip of my drink, the vodka stronger than I was expecting.
Holy crap that . . . burns.
I try to hold back my cough in front of this stranger, but it’s no use. I let out a wallop as my mouth hangs open, searching for anything to eradicate this toxic liquid from my throat.
“No one warned you about the Marsdale vodka, did they?” he asks as he gently pats my back.
“Not so much,” I say in a strangled voice.
“Don’t worry, you burn your esophagus with your first sip, so the rest of the drink will go down like a breeze.”
Chuckling, I say, “Good to know.” When my coughing ceases, I look up at him and hold my hand out. “I’m Lilly, and I’m embarrassed to say I can’t handle this liquor.”
He takes my hand in his. “I’m Evan, my parents forced me to come here.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Evan, even though your parents forced you to be here.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says with a cheeky grin that’s actually quite adorable.
“Are you from Marsdale?” I ask.
He clutches his chest. “Your Majesty, you wound me with your lack of knowledge. I’m the future Lord of Sotherby, after all.”
“First of all, theYour Majestystuff can be dropped right now. Hearing too much of that might break me out in hives, especially when I’m supposed to have a relaxed and fun evening. Second of all . . .” I lean closer and say, “I have no idea who the Sotherbys are, so help a girl out.”
Laughing softly, he replies, “We live to the east of the capital.”
“The capital? Wait, as in . . . Torskethorpe?” He nods. “Huh, so that means you have a general understanding of who I am.”
“Perhaps,” he answers as he lifts his drink to his lips.
“Let me ask you this . . . were you invited to the wedding that never happened?”
He rocks on his heels. “I was.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod. “And were you massively disappointed to know that you wouldn’t be served a wedding vinarterta that night?”
“Cried myself to sleep.”
“That would make two of us,” I say as I take another sip of the toxic drink. And Evan was right, the second sip does go down easier.
Evan grows serious and says, “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out. I won’t ask you about it, so don’t feel you need to go into details. I’m sure you’re trying to forget it ever happened.”
“I am, hence why I’m here.”
“Well then, can I offer you some conversation to help you enjoy the evening?”
“I don’t know.” I look him up and down. “Are you a master conversationalist?”
“Master? Probably not. Interesting? Most definitely.”
“Well then, show me the food so I can grab a bite before diving into this riveting conversation.”
* * *
Isabella and Marittwirl around the dance floor, reminding me so much of Ana and Elsa fromFrozen, enjoying the night under the twinkle lights. It makes me chuckle. And how they so willingly go from dance partner to dance partner. Poor Clinton, he has his hands full for sure. They are both boy hungry. From what I’ve learned, they’re very inexperienced, pretty sheltered when it comes to dates—not knowledge—and all they want is to find someone to fall in love with. They don’t get many opportunities, so they must be living out their dreams tonight.
“Tell me exactly why your parents found it necessary to fly here for a party?”
