Emma

Emery and I are standing next to each other as we watch the celebration going on in the castle—a private reception. We watch as people talk and laugh with full of grace, enjoying the cuisines that has been chosen by the queen to satisfy each of the guests.

When I turn to look at Emery, I see that his eyes are tired and a little bit droopy but he manage to stay and act like he's happy; trying to make everything seem real, ''You're tired.'' I say, causing him to look down at me.

''You can say that,'' He replies.

Seconds before I can say a word, a woman...