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Evanlyn looked in the mirror. She smiled, in the way her mother had taught her—perfect, polite—and adjusted her crown.
Today was her eighteenth birthday. Today she would either be officially named heir apparent, or she’d be cast aside to stand in the shadow of her little brother. She knew what would happen. She just didn’t want to admit it.
Her father was a cruel, horrible man. He was playing gamemaster at every waking moment. She was lucky if she was looked at and he saw his daughter instead of the bishop in F8. Evanlyn almost felt bad for her little brother. He was in C8 and he didn’t even know it.
Her smile had fallen. She pulled it back up and swept out of her room, every step measured. Until her father was off the throne, until she was no longer a piece on his chessboard, she had to be perfect.
She had to be.