Apparently, the Castle Matron and I have differing opinions on what a “willing servant” looks like.
Maybe she can’t recognize true consent after so many years servicing the Valtieres.
After Brionna nearly drops the gilded brush for the fourth time, I turn to face her directly, and she jumps.
“You and the other castle staff have nothing to be afraid of, whatever you might have heard,” I tell her. “Until the past few months, I spent my entire life in the Eastern Quarter. My goal is to make life better for the common people.”
Brionna dips her head. “I’d heard that, Your Highness.”
Grimacing, I say, “Highness, huh? I’m not aHighness. Please, just call me Meryn.”
Her shoulders loosen. She blinks, easing up a little. “Okay… Meryn.”
I smile in relief. “That’s less awkward, isn’t it?”
Brionna nods and blushes a bit. Finally, she’s loosening up.
We chat while she works on my hair. She tells me she’s from the Central Quarter. We discover that Brionna went to the same school as Saela, about a decade earlier, which makes me happy and also leaves me with a sharp sting of grief.
Saela will never return to that school and very likely not to any other.
The crushing weight hits me again: the life I’d imagined for us both disappearing into thin air. Nothing but daydreams in the end.
Saela’s not even talking to me. It’s been only a day—a day locked in that room, not a dungeon cell but a prison all the same. Still, the ache of it is everywhere.
And I hate that I look at her and wonder… if Killian is in her head, too.
Aldrich and I spent all morning researching Siphon reversals and found nothing to show for it. Still, I can’t give up hope.
By the time my hair is done—two elegant braids wrapping together around the base of my skull, as close as we can get to an updo with my length—Brionna has relaxed. She doesn’t flinch any longer. And she places the crown of wolves on my head with something approaching reverence.
Power floods my veins, and I try not to flinch at the unfamiliar surge.
I’ll get used to it soon, I tell myself. To all of it: the magic and everything else.
A knock at the door alerts us that my friends have arrived. I told them they had to attend the dinner, too, as interim members of my Council Palast. Their first responsibility: shielding me from whatever weird power battle I’m about to engage in with the Sovereign Alpha.
Izabel’s eyes light up at the silver-blue tunic and dark suede trousers I’m wearing, an outfit Brionna picked out for me. “Ooh, pretty. Elegant but not soft. A perfect choice.”
Tomison grins toward Brionna, exposing his line of perfectly straight teeth. “Great job, new girl.”
Her entire face turns red. I try to imagine Tomison through her perspective—the rich auburn hair, the tall and toned stature, the confident look in his eye. He seduces people without even trying.
Izabel scoffs a little too hard. “Mustyou flirt with every woman you see?”
“Rude,” Tomison retorts immediately. “I’m not allowed to pay people compliments?”
Izabel crosses her arms over her chest and levels him with a snippy gaze. “If only I believed your intentions were so pure.”
Nevah groans, sidling over to me. She’s in a vivid yellow satin dress. “Can these two just fuck already? The bickering is getting tiresome.”
“Izabel loves lengthy, angry foreplay,” Venna jokes. Her twin turns toward her, sputtering in outrage, but Venna continues, “It’s time to go or we’ll be late.”
“Fine,” Izabel says tersely, sweeping past Venna and linking her arm with mine. She tugs me out the door, and I wave goodbye to Brionna. “What should we expect from this highly important royal gathering, anyway?”
We move down the echoey halls of the castle, and I wonder that myself.
The first time I met Siegrid Therion, the day she told me I was chosen as Strategos Alpha, I was a sweaty, nervous mess. She made me feel so small. Like I was a clumsy child who stumbled into something I didn’t understand.
