I continued to find Adamantia and Sasha. I would request that my aunts begin working on improving the morale of the servants during my absence. I would be gone from Ardens until winter had passed. The winter would arrive soon—any day—and the north of the kingdom was too cold, too harsh for my pet, who embodied the warmth of spring.
After the tour, we would return to Borealis castle for the Royal Conference, which had been pushed back considerably while my father recovered from the spring and the events of thesummer’s upheaval within the kingdom. We would stay within Borealis until the first days of spring began to melt the snow and ice of Ardens. Upon my return, I wished to see improvement.
The halls were too dark, too quiet—the people, similarly. While I once associated such ambiance with peace, now I was painfully aware of how it unsettled someone like Percy. Ardens Estate required more life if it was to ever sustain my pet.
19. Flower Girls.
Persephone Flores
“It stinks in here,” Katrina said, and I looked up from the orange peel I had been absentmindedly toying with, surprised by her presence on the bus.
“I don’t smell anything,” I told her, subtly smelling the air.
Her scowl deepened. “I thought you were part shifter and vampire?” she asked me incredulously. “Do you really not smell how you’ve stunk out this whole space with your horniness, or are you being purposefully oblivious?”
I felt heat rush to my face, and I opened my mouth to speak in anger but found no coherent words. What was wrong with this girl? I thought maybe we could be friends. But no. No. I was sure we would not be. She was nasty and mean and—how did she know about my heritage? I mean, sure, she could have guest at shifter—one yellow eye kind of gives it away but—vampire? No one had ever guessed that.
“How do you know that?” I asked her.
“Because I have a nose. And you’ve clearly been sat here just stinking out the place for some time,” she replied and walked over to the side of the space with the fridges and sink and slid open a window, letting in a gust of cold wind.
“No, how do you know I’m part vampire?” I clarified. She paused momentarily before turning to me.
“Everyone knows,” she said.
“No they don’t,” I countered.
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she crossed her arms but made no move to answer me. We silently stared at each other until a shiver from the cold ran through me, and I stood up, walkingpast her in the tight space and slid the window she had opened shut.
“Answer me,” I demanded as I turned back to her.
She bristled at the demand. “You don’t have authority over me,” she replied.
“I’m pretty sure I do,” I told her, and it felt like I was puffing out my chest. I felt gross at the words that had just left my mouth. But it was true. My soul match was her Marchioness, her Princess, and would one day be her Queen. I might never hold any title, but Selene would always hold me higher than a servant.
“You’re nothing more than a glorified blood slave,” she said angrily.
“Really? You seemed to think a glorified blood slave held enough power to sway the Princess yesterday, but now you don’t think I have any authority,” I replied back, just as angrily, remembering how upset she had made me the previous day.
“Is that it then?” she asked, glaring at me. And before I could ask what she meant, she continued, “You’ve no interest in helping the common folk. You want to lord it over us too? A traitor!” I felt the accusation like a slap.
“I—I—I don’t lord it over anyone!” I protested. “Why are you being like this? I’ve done nothing to you and you’ve been nothing but rude, mean, and cryptic.”
“You’re the one making demands!” she countered.
“And you keep making claims about me,” I raised my voice and remembered what she had said to me—something like I didn’t even know myself. What was that even meant to mean? “You said I don’t even know myself, and now you know my heritage and claim everyone knows—but they don’t know. Tell me what you think you know about me,” I continued to demand.
“I know that they’re all wrong about you,” she seethed angrily and turned to walk away.
“What does that mean?” I asked and followed her down the narrow corridor of the bus as she tried to leave, reaching out to grab her arm and stop her from exiting.
“Let me go, witch,” she spat.
“Or what?” I asked frustrated. “Just answer me for once,” I pleaded. Her scowl relaxed fractionally, before she pulled her arm from grasp and left the bus.
“I don’t want to be your friend,” I called after her and immediately felt so immature and embarrassed.
“We could never be friends,” she answered, without turning back to me. Some other servants and one of Selene’s royal guards saw the awkward interaction, and I cringe from the embarrassment, turning away from the open door of the bus and quickly returning to the table and orange peel to hide.
