Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix

I’d even give him credit for the dull ones, like, I think I’ll wear my blue waistcoat instead of the green one today. But no, he even had people to pick out his clothes for him.
    Now that I no longer made an effort to talk, we mostly sat in silence.
    â€œGood evening, Princess,” he’d say.
    â€œGood evening, Your Highness,” I’d say.
    And then there was a half hour filled with nothing but an occasional “You’re so beautiful” from the prince.
    I came to hate those words.
    Now? I’d think. Do I tell him now?
    The sentences ran through my head: “Your Highness, I—”
    â€œPrince, I—”
    â€œLook, unCharming, I can’t stand you, and there’s no way I’m going to marry you!”
    I held my tongue and kept practicing in my head. I wasn’t ready yet. I vowed that even if I did only one thing with grace and dignity my whole time in the castle, this would be it.

17
    The clock struck eight. The candles flickered. The prince opened the door and came to sit next to me. He kissed my hand, and I had to concentrate on not recoiling.
    But after tonight, I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. It was time to tell.
    â€œYour Majesty,” I began. “I have been thinking—”
    He chuckled.
    â€œAlways a dangerous thing for a woman to do,” he said. “Especially one as beautiful as you.”
    I reconsidered my desire to break the news gently. He deserved to be slugged. I raised my chin and decided to be nice anyway.
    â€œI—I know you won’t like hearing this, but I must tell you. I can’t marry you.”
    I held my breath and watched the prince carefully. His expression didn’t change. My words didn’t seem to register.
    â€œWhat?” he asked.
    â€œI want to call off the wedding. I can’t marry you. I, well, I’m very sorry, but I just don’t love you. I thought I did, but it was just infatuation, I guess. I honestly don’t even know you—”
    The prince clapped his hand over my mouth. He made no effort to be gentle. It hurt. Then he turned and spoke over my shoulder.
    â€œJeedens,” he hollered at the chaperon behind us.
    â€œWha-what? What do you wish, Your Majesty?” The ancient servant jerked to attention. From his flustered demeanor, I could tell he hadn’t heard what I’d said. Perhaps even he had found the conversations between the prince and me too boring to listen to. I saw his eyes take in the sight of the prince holding his hand over my mouth and then, as if a curtain fell across his vision, I could practically see him making the decision not to notice. No wonder he’d managed to stay in service to the royal family for so long.
    â€œYou may leave now,” the prince commanded.
    â€œYes, Your Highness. Yes, Your Majesty.” Jeedens gathered up his robes, but stood for a moment looking confused.
    â€œGo back to your room,” the prince said. “You are dismissed.”
    Only when Jeedens had scrambled out the door did the prince release his grip on my face.
    â€œYou can do that?” I asked in amazement. “Dismiss the chaperon—just like that?”
    â€œI’m the prince,” Charming said.
    â€œBut aren’t we breaking some rule, being together alone?” I persisted.
    Prince Charming shrugged.
    â€œI’m the prince,” he repeated. “My family makes the rules. We don’t have to follow them if we don’t want to.”
    I wished I’d known weeks ago that we didn’t have to be chaperoned. I remembered my old daydreams: The prince and I, alone together, cuddling and whispering. Intimate. Maybe if we’d had that from the beginning, I wouldn’t be breaking the engagement now. Maybe . . . I looked at the prince carefully. His stunning blue eyes looked only cold and empty to me now. If we’d had intimate conversations from the beginning, I probably would have wised up