Vivian’s Point of View
Rule five:It’s okay to appreciate your bully’s bully (even if she’s an elitist bitch).
I’m not sure why I thought a private dinner with Need would involve a small, candlelit dungeon where she could privately blackmail me. At the very least, I expected a dim corridor and distant screams to round out the ambiance.
I never expected to be led into a massive hall, housing a table that could easily seat a hundred people. The space is open, with an arched cathedral ceiling trimmed in gold. The room radiates opulence.
Most importantly, the table is set with a vast assortment of food, including a chocolate fountain. There are also trays of pastries, cookies, fruit, and every delicious treat I could dream of craving. My mouth waters, which feels rude considering my life is on fire.
Apparently, we’re early, since Leon and I are the only ones here. He takes a seat next to the head of the table and nods at the chair beside him. I try to be discreet as I pull my chair over, leaving as much space between us as possible. But of course, he manspreads, and suddenly I’m grateful for the monumental number of layers on my dress. Otherwise, his thigh would be pressed against mine.
I avoid looking at him, already getting the creepy crawly sensation from being alone together.
The feeling doesn’t last long, however, when a small army of servants dashes into the room. One rushes to fill our cups, while others carry over more dishes. The majority look panicked as they stand against the wall, just in case they’re needed.
They’re all human, just like Kenzie mentioned.
Leon’s gaze burns into me, and I decide that focusing on dessert is better for my mental health. Chocolate might not solve all my problems, but I feel like I owe it to myself to at least try.
“I thought we could have some alone time before our private dinner with Need,” he begins, but pauses when he notices where my attention is centered. “Of course,” he adds with a slight laugh. “You must be famished. Don’t worry, it’s my duty to care for you, pet.”
Not needing to be told twice, I reach for a pastry but freeze when Leon’s hand lands on my shoulder. Amused, he softly pushes me back onto my chair, before snapping his fingers in the air, repeatedly, until yet another servant dashes into the room. She’s carrying a small plate, and he takes it without a word, placing it before me.
I give her a thankful smile, but she rushes away without noticing. Blinking down at the small plate, I take in the hummus, nuts, raw celery, cauliflower, and cherry tomatoes.
The mixed nuts aren’t salted.
Leon takes a donut for himself and laughs at my forlorn expression. “Now, now, no need to pout. The nutritionist said sugar is not on the list of acceptable foods for someone in your position. We need to ensure you get your vitamins.”
Am I sick or something? Why would I need a nutritionist? Did the Creator power not fully take? I open my mouth to ask, but no sound comes out. Right – I don’t have permission to speak. Lovely.
Leon swallows his donut in two bites before launching into what I guess he considers to be ‘quality time.’ Namely, he speaks, and I listen.
“Once we are wed, we’ll be staying here, while we continue to establish ourselves as figureheads of the new era. We are the face of this movement. So, moving back home won’t be possible for quite some time.” His pompous undertone is grating. “Of course, your public appearances will need to be kept short. You’ll need your rest.”
That last comment has my attention snapping back to his face, hoping his expression will give me a clue as to why he keeps hinting that I’m unwell.
Does he think feminine rage is an illness?
His eyes are hooded as he stares at me and slowly licks sugar off his bottom lip. The look is meant to be carnal, and there is no doubt that he’s picturing exactly what he plans on doing to me during my ‘rest’ time.
Thankfully, I’m saved from hearing what’s on his mind when a servant opens the main door. I almost fall out of my chair when I see who glides inside. She’s a carbon copy of Rosie. My jaw drops, and it takes me a second to remember Rosie mentioning her sister is a Creator, and that their mother, the Fae Queen, is her sister’s Keeper.
She’s wearing a beautiful rose-gold gown that trails at least a foot behind her, and her three-inch nails are perfectly manicured with matching polish.
Her expression is soft and innocent until the door shuts behind her. Then her face morphs into a pinched, unimpressed expression as she eyes Leon. Her disdain only amplifies when she looks at me, and she narrows her eyes before taking a seat across from Leon.
Okay, cool. She must be the evil twin – and she thinks we have cooties. Honestly, I’m not mad about it.
Leon straightens out in his seat, and the look he gives her is no less filled with animosity.
Fight! Fight! Fight!
Sadly, he only grinds his teeth. “Lilanthara, I’m surprised to see you here. This is meant to be aprivatedinner between me, my betrothed, and Need. Need has important matters to discuss with our newest Creator.”
Lilanthara (evil twin) rolls her eyes. “Need invited the inner circle, since she clearly has no use for private time with you. And do try not to confuse the facts. I am theonlyCreator. We all know this filth will never see a drop of power.” She stares down at her nails, seemingly disinterested. “Also, in the future, do refrain from addressing me, Destroyer. Don’t presume that justbecause Need has use for you, you suddenly get to rise above your station and speak to your betters.”
Ever feel completely conflicted about whether you want to slap or high-five someone? Lilanthara is clearly an elitist bitch, but also, I love the furious expression she just dragged out of Leon. She cut him down with only a few well-placed words.
