“And you are drop-dead gorgeous,” I said, tilting my head so I could get closer to her. “You look like a princess, but not one of those lame, helpless ones. You’re like a badass princess.” “I did pack my hip daggers,” she joked, eyes dancing. “I’d expect nothing less from the Maple Sugar Queen.” I offered my arm, and she took it, and then we strode into the ballroom. “Princess,” she corrected as we maneuvered around people. “Miss Maple Princess.” “Nope.” I shook my head. “You’ve been promoted to queen.”
