Chapter 13 Little thief
SOMA
Maeve. My stomach drops as she charges toward me, heels clicking furiously against the floor. Fury twists her face, and her hand raises, most likely to slap some sense into me. I squeeze my eyes shut, steeling my face for the sting.
But it never comes. Slowly, my eyes open, and I see Maeve struggling to free herself from Brynne’s hold.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks calmly.
Even his whispers send chills down my spine. I’m not stupid enough to think he will defend me, but my heart gallops. He releases her wrist, and she stumbles back, eyes wide with shock.
“Your Highness,” Maeve protests. “She’s wearing my dress.”
“Is there a problem with the one you’re wearing? Do you wish to wear this too?” he asks. She shakes her head slowly. I watch the scene unfold in front of me like an outsider. What’s happening? He barely glances at me as he adds, “The pink looks better on her. If you don’t intend to wear it now, then you should get out of here.”
Maeve sucks in a sharp breath. “Your Highness.”
He cocks his head, and she shoots me a glare. With a huff, she storms off, leaving me alone to deal with him. His gaze drifts back to me, dropping to the tray that now holds the evidence of my clumsiness. The corner of his mouth lifts, and the hairs across my arms rise.
“This will be fun,” he says. “Very fun.”
Fear lodges in my chest. My foot inches back, and I brace myself for a breakaway, but he clicks his tongue.
“Don’t you dare, little thief,” he warns. He snaps his fingers, and a butler appears almost immediately. “Have her serve our table. She’ll serve me all day.”
The butler hesitates. “Your Highness—”
“Now,” Brynne cuts in. Once more, he glances at me, his amusement rising, and I know my day is about to get worse. “Let’s see how good your manners really are, thief.”
Brynne walks away before I can protest, and the butler snaps his fingers, letting me know to follow him. We slip into the main hall where many people are gathered, and he slides into the seat at the head of the table.
I don’t know what I expect, but as I settle into the role, I realize being a server at his table isn’t so bad. It gives me a front-row view of the main event. I stand behind Brynne’s seat at the long, polished table with a wine tray in hand. My ears are attuned to everyone’s needs, while my heart pounds like a drum in my chest.
Everywhere I look, there are screens and reels. Old portraits of past Lunas, video displays: ribbons of light showing their coronations, their speeches, and vows.
When Brynne lifts his glass, I shuffle toward him, careful not to let the wine spill on his new outfit. Surprisingly, he hasn’t made any crude remarks or attempted to harass me. Even his brothers, Kade and Tristan, are on their best behavior. But I catch the occasional smile on Kade’s lips.
Kade might be charming, but his friends are far from that. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to refill their glasses or fetch ice from a bucket that’s right before them. My feet ache, but I keep moving because that’s the only option I have right now.
Tristan sits to his elder brother’s left, his expression one of boredom, like he was forced to be here. Kade seems happier after finishing a pitcher of wine. The table brims with food I’ve only ever dreamed of, but none of them are eating.
Once the first set of videos stops, a couple takes the stage in a sensually captivating dance. I don’t know if it’s part of the ceremony, but it attracts everyone’s attention. A few guests clap while others watch in awe.
Another video comes on after their dance. It’s a short film documentary about the ceremony that ends with a speech and encouragement from our late Luna, Queen Raine. She must have taken it before her death.
Someone clears their throat, and I tear my eyes away from the screen. It’s one of Kade’s friends. He motions to his empty glass, but something in his gaze makes my heart race. I edge toward his table, bending to fill his glass. As I straighten up to leave, a hand snakes up my inner thigh and squeezes the underside of my butt.
A startled gasp shoots out of my lips, and I stumble back. Eyes snap in my direction, and the jerk who groped me lifts a brow, silently daring me to speak. My throat tightens, and my chest heaves with each angry breath. I want to kill him. I want to hurt him. But Tristan clears his throat, and I’m snapped out of my haze.
For Mason. For our escape.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble and rush behind Brynne’s chair with the serving tray clenched in my grip.
Kade frowns at his friend, and Tristan’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t talk, but Kade’s friend rises and walks out without a backward glance. Murmurs ripple through the table, fading into silence as the next event unfolds.
The rest of the day passes in the same manner, with food, reels, music, and other forms of entertainment. They take brief breaks between the events before returning.
At quarter to midnight, the contestants gather on the stage at the far end.