I stand, then slam my fists on the table. The plates and silverware rattle, and gasps surround me. “Both of you, stop it now.”
Juliette releases Brevan, but the enforcer doesn’t loosen his grip on Nikolay’s collar.
The older man grasps Brevan’s hands. “You heard the”—he switches to Iskvalandian—"spoiled bitch”— then returns to Pendralian—"stop it.”
My face heats, and I round the table, fully intending to stop this myself when Brevan punches Nikolay in the face.
The older man cries, then presses his hand over his jaw where the punch landed. “You asshole!” He spits blood on the floor.
“Both of you, out!” Juliette screams. “This is supposed to be a party!”
“Don’t let me see you around her again,” Brevan growls. “I’m sure the prince would love to hear what you said about his future bride.”
Nikolay gives Juliette a glance, then hurries from the room, his hand still covering his face.
“You, too,” Juliette says to Brevan.
He inclines his head, then leaves the dining room. I watch him walk out and fight the desire to chase after him.
“Are you alright?” Juliette slides her arm around me. “I’m so sorry. I will never invite him to anything again.”
“What did he say?” Genevieve asks.
“He said he likes to sleep with drunk royal women,” Antonia says.
The other women gasp.
My brow furrows. “I didn’t know you speak Iskvalandian.”
“My parents insisted I learn as many languages as possible.” She shrugs.
“Well, I’m glad the enforcer punched him.” Genevieve takes a sip of her wine, then sets the cup down. “And if he comes anywhere near you, we will be sure to inform the legion so they can remove him.”
“I had no idea he was like that,” Juliette says. “He was always so kind.”
The servants are still standing in the doorway. “Juliette.” I tilt my head toward them.
“Oh, gods. I’m sorry you had to see that. I assume you understand that this doesn’t leave this room?”
They nod.
“Dinner, anyone?” Juliette says.
The servants hesitantly walk farther into the room, and when nobody stops them, they begin adding food to all the plates before hurrying away.
Conversation slowly returns, starting with safe topics like when the ladies think we’ll get snow and what everyone wants to wear to the next ball. Once they’re all eating and laughing and more relaxed, I excuse myself for a moment.
When I step outside Juliette’s room, I find Brevan waiting in the hall.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He keeps his gaze forward, looking anywhere except at me.
“Thank you.” Those stupid flutters return to my chest.
“You’re welcome.”
“I should get back,” I say.
“Probably,” he agrees.
