Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
The dining room in the Olympus palace looked like someone had taken the Mediterranean sun and folded it into the walls.
All white marble and cream silk and glass that went from floor to ceiling so the blue of the ocean below the cliffs was basically another guest at the table. You could hear the waves if the room got quiet enough, which it never did when my family was in it.
I hated breakfast here. Too bright, too much history, too many people who remembered me at twelve with braces and a worse attitude.
And I hated it even more that I had to walk into it on Campbell's arm like we were something real.
His hand was a brand on the small of my back, warm through the thin fabric of my dress, and it was unfair. It was deeply, personally unfair that he'd gone surfing before breakfast and now smelled like salt and sun and eucalyptus, like every summer I'd ever tried to forget.
