“No one is replacing Mother,” Claus whispers from the doorway.
“Christ! Not you too,” I groan.
“Not to worry, brother, I’m just here to peruse the rejects.” He reaches between our sisters and grabs the whiskey bottle from the table, taking a heavy gulp straight from the bottle.
“Uh, excuse you,” Miles demands, taking the bottle from him and refilling our glasses.
“Relax. The alcohol kills the germs on contact.”
“Actually, the concern is no one invited any of you to partake in our indulgences.” I shield the plate of pilfered hors d’oeuvres from Lorelei’s reach.
Claus stretches over the top of my arm and snatches a few snacks. “For someone who is about to be drowning in pussy, you sure are a grouch.”
I choke, and Lorelei breathes a quietew.
“Really, Claus?” I chide. “In front of our sisters?”
He shrugs. “I’m sure it’s nothing they haven’t heard before. Don’t think they’re sheltered just because Mother and Father send them to that all-girls school.”
“It’s true,” Liesel confirms. “Some of those girls have filthier minds than him.”
“Anneliese, please,” I beg. “For the love of Christ, allow me to believe my baby sisters are innocent. Just for a little while longer.”
“Hate to be a bubble burster, big bro,” Claus cuts in. “But no one around here seems to think to disconnect from the Wi-Fi before certain nighttime browsings. And sometimes daytime.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh, for fucks sake.” I rub at my beard.
“Appears our darling Lorelei was trying to find information on blowjobs just the other day.”
She shrugs. “What? I was curious.”
I gape at her, and Miles coughs into his drink.
“Wait,” Anneliese pipes up. “You monitor our search history?”
“Simple enough to see what websites are being accessed and then trace them back to each IP address.”
She pales.
“It’s alright, Liesel. Your smutty fan fiction secret is safe with me. Oops!” He slips on that false apologetic expression he mastered in early childhood.
“You’re a dick, Claus!” Anneliese hisses as she sweeps from the balcony, escaping her embarrassment.
He slides casually into her vacated chair and steals another swig of whiskey. “Finally, my legs were getting tired.”
“You really are a dick, you know?” Lorelei slugs him on the shoulder.
“Shh.” I glare at them.
Betsy has taken to the platform at the head of the ballroom.
“Good evening, ladies.” Her voice projects across the room, even up to us in the mezzanine. All conversation ends abruptly, and the focus is on her alone. “Welcome to Vertmure Palace. On behalf of the royal family, I’d like to thank you all for your presence here tonight as His Royal Highness Prince Friedrich begins his search for a wife.”
I scan the crowd of women as she speaks. Mysiblings’ antics have distracted me, and the ballroom is now full of the women ready to compete for my attention. Ready to compete to be the future queen.
“I know you all came here tonight hoping to mingle with the royal family, most especially Prince Friedrich. However, tonight the palace representatives and confidants of the family will be evaluating all of you in order to decide who is fitting for tea with the queen next Sunday.”
There is a low, embittered murmur at that announcement.
