I wonder if that’s the same person who made the skirt comment before. Seems like they may be fixating on my ass.
I turn my head to look at where the comment came from. At one of the middle tables, there are two girls with delicate forms, almond-shaped eyes, and long, glossy dark hair staring at me with some serious hatred.
“Did you hear that, Prince Gryffin?” I ask the man who is sitting on the far side of Layla, who is directly next to me. I’m not sure how they worked out the seating arrangement, but I think Gryffin is strategically placed for my protection, while the rest of Watch Team One is seated next to him. Mia and Evelyn are on the other side of Lucas, followed by general Bryson and his family with Violet on the end. “Someone seems to have an obsession with my skirt. Do you think we can figure out who it is and give them the name of the designer?” I ask him, sounding unbothered, and he snickers while Layla hides her laugh by taking a sip of her wine.
“As you wish, my queen. I will listen carefully to the crowd to figure it out,” he says just as loudly as I had. Dropping his voice, he mutters, “Naughty cookie, but well played.”
“Indeed,” Layla agrees. “That was masterfully handled.”
No more whispers reach my ears, though I’m sure they haven’t stopped completely, just not in hearing range of a tiger, which I’m assuming is fairly far.
Dinner is cleared away, and I have to mingle. It’s excruciating, and I lose track of all the people I meet who kiss my ass. It’s all fake and nauseating, and I’m reaching my limit when I am approached by a familiar face.
“Dad, will you allow me the pleasure of a dance with Colbie please? I’m sure she would like a break from all of this.” He smiles charmingly, and his mothers twitter at him as his dad practically shoves me into his arms. My hand is hot in his as he leads me onto the floor. He spins me around before drawing me into his arms. Gryff wraps one arm around my waist and holds my hand up as he twirls me, waltzing in time to the orchestra.Dancing with him is like dancing on a cloud. He moves effortlessly and doesn’t strike up a conversation, somehow sensing that I need a break to decompress.
I wonder what his animal is. I remember his mothers explaining how it works, and if I remember correctly, both of his parents are tigers, so that would make him a tiger… I freeze on the spot, and he frowns quizzically. “Are you okay?”
“What color is your tiger?” I ask him, unable to hide my suspicion, especially when I take into account the funny reactions when I told them all about my tiger cuddle experience at breakfast.
He winces and shrugs. “White,” he admits, and I pull away from him.
“It was you last night, wasn’t it?” I ask, feeling hurt, before spinning and moving away from him. I feel like a fool.
“Cookie, wait.” He grabs my arm. “It was my tiger, I swear. He took over, and I was strictly in the passenger seat. He wanted a belly rub, and there was nothing I could do. I didn’t know that you were the queen or that none of your mates had appeared. I wasn’t trying to give you false hope. I swear,” he pleads, but I shake off his hand and hurry away from him, pulling my phone out and typing “pineapple” to Gretchin. She won’t let me down.
I’m done with all of this today. I’m sick of this bullshit. Why can’t I do this queen thing on my own? The reminder that I can’t take my full duties until my six mates appear is a kick in the teeth. Gryffin’s actions, while not malicious, were still hurtful, and the whispers around me all night have been speculating about the lack of possible mates, and if it’s because I have no power. At one stage, I gripped the pendant around my neck so hard I thought it was going to shatter, but Lucas reminded me that without control, I could easily hurt or kill someone, so I dropped my hand. Gryffin’s deceit was just the nail in the coffin.
I’m intercepted on my way off the dance floor, and I barely contain the growl that bubbles up out of my chest.
“Your Majesty, allow me to introduce myself since Lord Lucas hasn’t deigned to do so.” The man uses the title Lucas will hold once I am crowned. Technically, they should still be referring to him as King Lucas. I turn and find a handsome, gray-haired man beaming at me. He is accompanied by his wife and two children. I know exactly who this man is because I had Violet point him out earlier.
“No need, Councilor Tideman. Your reputation proceeds you,” I say, pasting on a barely there smile.
He guffaws with laughter, and I take note that none of his family curtsies or bows to me as protocol dictates. “Wonderful, I look forward to getting to know you and helping you with your new position.”
“Now then, no business talk at a party.” Gretchin slides between us and herds me away. Tideman protests, but she ignores him. “Sorry, Colbie is needed for a moment. No rest for the wicked.” We lose them in the crowd, and I sigh with relief. I was not ready to deal with that, though I most certainly will.
“You done?” Gretchin mutters, and I sag.
“Absolutely,” I tell her, and she discretely ushers us out a side door and takes a different route back to my room.
“We ran interference with Dad, so we are in the clear.” Gracelin and Violet are waiting there when we arrive, and I heave out a sigh of relief at the bottles of champagne they each hold in their hands.
“Yes, yes, yes.” I snatch one from Violet, and the four of us kick off our shoes and jump onto my bed, making ourselves comfortable. I don’t even bother with a glass and just pop the top and guzzle it down. The bubbles tickle my nose, and it’s a little tart for my sweet tooth, but if it does the trick of blurring my mind, then I am here for it.
“Ugh, I need to get out of this dress,” Gretchin grumbles, climbing off the bed, and I wave at my wardrobe.
“Help yourself,” I tell her, and it takes barely a second for all three of them to strip off their ballgowns and replace them some of the mountain of loungewear I have.
“That sucked,” I say, flopping back on my bed, careful not to spill my champagne. “Did you hear them all talking about the mate thing?”
“Almost as much as I heard your lack of power mentioned,” Violet grumbles and takes the bottle of champagne out of my hand. “Come on, get out of your dress. You will feel better.”
“It wasn’t all of them. Some of the people there tonight were lovely, but it’s the assholes who are always the loudest,” Gracelin says, and I see her sending a message on her phone. “Snacks are on their way.” She jumps back on the bed with her own bottle of champagne in hand.
I put mine to the side and let Violet yank me up. I struggle with the little black buttons down the front, holding my dress together. “This was much easier at the beginning of the night,” I mutter as the champagne takes effect.
“Here, let me.” Violet pushes my hands out of the way and makes quick work of them. She shoves the dress off my shoulders, leaving me in only my bra. I shimmy out of the rest of the dress and toss it off to the side before spinning and going in search of my own loungewear.
