𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 - 𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧

(thirty-seven)

Wedding planning is absolutely excruciating. If I have to look at one more fabric sample for the tablecloths, I think I'll throw up.

Beneath the table, Siyeon and I have our hands laced together. Her warm skin and gentle touch is the only solace I have to escape from the hell that is planning an extravagant wedding.

I know it's wrong, but I let my mind wander. What if this were our wedding, rather than hers and Prince Jaebeom's? I fantasise about the idea of being the one to call her mine. Being the one who gets to kiss her in front of all those royal snobs and prove that what we have is real. I have to remind myself again that I'm being unreasonable.

There's no way that would ever work, not if she wanted to stay part of the royal family. I'm sure the Queen would disown Siyeon and kill me if there was even a suggestion of her being with me instead of Prince Jaebeom. This wedding promises her too many assets for her to lose on some lower-class province girl. I know that's not how Siyeon sees me, but I also know that's what I am. She tries to tell me that she doesn't care where I come from and that my background could never change her view of me. But I'm sure deep down she knows that it matters to everyone else.

"Bora, what do you think of this one for the tablecloths?" I'm pulled back to reality by Siyeon showing me another boring fabric sample.

"No, not that one," I answer, "It's too rigid and too textured and wouldn't support food and drinks well. Pick something simpler and choose napkins in interesting fabrics as an accent."

The wedding planner gawks at me, probably surprised that I know any of these words. It's amazing, the assumptions these people make about the people from the provinces. Some of them are surprised I'm even literate. What a privileged life they all must live to assume that anyone doing honest work must be uncivilised.

I feel Siyeon's hand underneath the table squeeze softly, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. I wonder if she could sense my frustration at the wedding planner. Or maybe she just wants to hold my hand as much as I want to hold hers. I think I prefer that option.

"Your highness, we also have to create a menu for the wedding."

Siyeon nonchalantly flips through a booklet of food options. She whispers to me about dishes she thinks are tacky or never prepared properly and how this menu must be as old as she is.

The wedding planner sits up straight and her eyes nearly pop out of her head when Siyeon asks, "Can we get rice with hot dogs and cheese?"

I lose my composure completely and explode with laughter. I can't believe Siyeon would ask for something that would definitely be seen as trashy. Is this part of her plan for sabotage, or did she really just like the food that much when we first visited my family together? I apologise for my outburst and tell the wedding planner that I think the Princess' idea is amazing and that she should have her favourite food on her special day.

Obviously bothered, the wedding planner writes it down anyway, and they begin discussing appetiser options, which I try to tune out as I let myself fantasise again: dancing with Siyeon in her wedding dress, seeing the shocked faces of spectators both at the food choice and also Siyeon's choice of dance partner. We haven't even gone to a dress fitting yet and already I want to see the Princess all dressed up to be married. I can picture her perfectly in my head, and my heart melts at the vision of happy wedding Siyeon.

But it's not our wedding.

After another agonising hour, we're finally done with the wedding planner and on our way to Siyeon's dress fitting. She leads the way, instructing me to be brutally honest with her, even if I think she looks terrible. I'm not sure if that's possible, but I promise her anyway.

The tailor has chosen three dresses for Siyeon to choose from, and I'm supposed to help her pick once she's tried them all. The first dress has a mermaid style skirt and a halter neckline.

"You wanted honesty, right?" Siyeon nods, so I tell her, "That is not the shape for you."

She thanks me and returns behind the curtain to switch to the next dress. It has puff sleeves and a long, loose silk skirt. "Better than the last one, but I hate the sleeves."

Once more, she disappears to change. She comes back out in the last dress: strapless with a sweetheart neckline, a cinched waist, and an enormous, puffy tulle skirt.

I'm speechless. How am I supposed to tell her how beautiful she looks without accidentally proclaiming my affection for her?

Siyeon slouches and shifts awkwardly. "You hate it, don't you?" She asks. "You can tell me if it looks bad, but please say something."

"Holy shit, Siyeon."

Nice going, Bora! Real smooth. In my head I was calling her a goddess, telling her she's the angel I hope to see when I die, screaming about just how perfect she looks. But out loud, none of it came together. I choked and said something stupid. She laughs and covers her mouth.

"Is that good, then?" Siyeon asks.

I finally force out, "Yes, that's good! Ma'am, please kick me in the face, holy–" I catch myself before I swear again. "I might have to steal you from your husband if you keep that dress on." Shit, I've been rambling. In a show of false professionalism, I add, "It shows off your best assets, Princess."

She asks the tailor to go find her veil, saying she thinks she left it in the dining hall during the last planning meeting.

Her veil is in my room.

Once the tailor leaves, I can't help but spit out the words I've been thinking this whole time, spewing compliment after compliment. Every time I look at her, I have something new to say.

She laughs and grabs my hand, pulling me up from my seat. She slams her lips against mine with no warning, and I respond desperately, having been craving her all day. This is my motivation every day, and my reward for doing well. I consider every moment with Siyeon a treat, and I want to properly earn my rewards from her. When she pulls away, I ask her if I did okay today. I hated sitting in on wedding planning, but I hope it didn't show.

"You were great. You're such a good girl, Bora," she whispers. "And I'm glad you're jealous."

I'm almost embarrassed by the fact she can tell how envious I am of Prince Jaebeom, but any shame dissipates as she once again whispers to me what a good girl I've been today. I quietly respond, "I can't stop wishing it was me instead of him. I try to be good, but I keep thinking about if it were us rather than you and Prince Jaebeom."

Siyeon sighs and grabs me by the shoulders. "I'm happy to hear that," she tells me, "Because I wish it were you instead of him, too."