Chapter 19: Princess, Move.

The slam of the palace gates behind her echoes like thunder rolling through the courtyard. Dozens of heads turn at once, voices quiet and reducing to whispers, eyes sharpen.

The air shifts, heavy with curiosity and judgment of everything she looks like. Amaris feels every gaze sweep over her.

Her dress is plain, her boots are worn and her cloak is patched in three places.

And in a sea of satin, lace, jewels, and perfume, she stands out like a burn mark on white silk. A ripple of laughter rises from a cluster of girls near the fountain. Soft at first, then sharper, then petty. One covers her mouth and whispers something that makes another snicker loudly.

Heat creeps up Amaris’s neck.

She tries to keep walking, tries to keep her spine straight, but their stares scrape across her skin like thorns.

She would have kept going, would have blended into the back if not for the moment her gaze locks with a pair of icy blue eyes near the center of the yard.

Rhea.

The world narrows to one cruelly familiar face.

Rhea’s lips curl into a smirk before the smirk breaks into laughter. Loud, shrill, delighted. It cuts across the courtyard, easily the loudest sound there.

Something twists sharply in Amaris’s chest.

Of course, her wolf mutters, dripping venom. Of all the snakes in the world, this one slithered her way into the palace too.

Amaris tries to step aside, to lose herself in the crowd, but the girls move, parting as Rhea approaches like she’s some kind of royal envoy. Heads tilt. Brows lift. Whispering spreads like wildfire. No one stops her. They make way for her as if she owns the place.

Rhea stops a few feet away, her chin lifted arrogantly. She pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, dramatically recoiling as if Amaris’s presence physically wounds her.

“What is that smell?” Rhea demands loudly, fanning the air in front of her face.

The surrounding girls laugh on cue.

Amaris’s cheeks burn. She keeps her gaze down, fighting the sting behind her eyes.

Rhea steps closer, voice raised so everyone hears. “Oh, never mind. I know exactly what it is.”

She pauses just long enough for the tension to tighten.

“You smell like poverty.”

More laughter rises, cruel and bright.

Amaris’s fingers curl into fists at her sides. Her pulse hammers. Shame burns through her like a fever, but beneath it… something sharper roils, something her wolf pushes to the surface.

Do NOT cry in front of her, the wolf growls. She doesn’t deserve your tears.

Rhea circles her like a vulture, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Honestly, why even bother coming here? You look like you should be scrubbing the stables, not competing for the King’s attention.” She tilts her head mockingly. “Maybe you should try finding a job instead. Priorities, Amaris.” The way she says the name makes Amaris flinch in an all too familiar and too knowing way.

Rhea notices instantly.

She moves in close, too close, leaning down until her lips hover near Amaris’s ear.

Her voice drops to a cold whisper. “Listen carefully, little slave.”

Amaris freezes.

“If you so much as hint to anyone here that we know each other,” Rhea murmurs, “or worse, that we lived under the same roof, I will make sure your miserable existence ends with a stake through your heart.”

Amaris’s wolf surges upward, teeth bared. Say the word and I will rip her throat out!

No, Amaris snaps inwardly, forcing the wolf back down.

But Rhea isn’t done.

She pulls back just enough to meet Amaris’s eyes, her smile wide and bright as if she were congratulating a friend.

“Smile,” she whispers sweetly. “Unless you want everyone to know your place as the slave you are.”

The crowd watches eagerly, waiting for Amaris to crumble.

Waiting for tears.

Waiting for fear.

Amaris’s fists tighten harder.

Her wolf is trembling with restrained violence.

And for the first time in her life, Amaris realizes something important.

They cannot kill what she refuses to let them break.

Her breath steadies.

Her spine straightens.

And she lifts her head, slowly, deliberately, to look Rhea straight in the eyes. “Will you back off? Your breath stinks.” She does not wait for her response before she walks away.