Chapter 257

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” I ask Windsor as we stand inside a bridal shop in Lujo, and I watch the tenth in line to the English throne get a pink bridesmaid dress fitted to his lithe, muscular body. He glances over his shoulder at me, red hair sticking up, hazel eyes twinkling.

“Go right ahead, my darling,” he says as the attendant stands up and excuses herself to grab some more pins. She looked at us like we were crazy when we wandered in here looking to get a dress fitted to a teenage boy as a Halloween costume, even more so when she recognized Windsor and then started frantically texting her friend behind the counter.

Word of this will be all over the Internet by dinnertime. Wind says he doesn’t care, but maybe he does, just not in the way others might think. He might not be ashamed, but he certainly does care: he wants everyone to know just how irreverent he is.

“Why didn’t your mother come to Parents’ Week?” I ask as Windsor examines his d