Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
Breakfast ended exactly twelve minutes after Papa decided we were getting married, having children, and probably ruling the world by Tuesday.
"Come on," Mario said, clapping Papa on the shoulder as he stood. His coffee was already cold and he looked like he hadn't slept because he'd been up watching videos of me falling off stages. "We have that thing."
"The thing," Papa repeated, and I knew 'the thing' meant they were going to go sit in a room with other men in suits and dissect every mistake I'd made since birth. "Try not to burn the palace down," Papa told me on his way out, eyes sharp over the rim of his glasses. Then to Campbell: "Try not to be the reason she burns it down."
And then they were gone, the doors closing with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a slam.
