Chapter 77 Crashing The Royal Dinner
Kira’s POV
Well…it’s not like anyone could scold me, right?
I mean…who would even try?
Regardless, heat crept up my neck…awkwardness, embarrassment, the whole human cocktail. For one second, I actually considered turning around, throwing on one of those stiff gowns, playing the part.
Then I remembered the courtyard. Adrian dragging me off like property. Declaring I belong to him in front of everyone. Parading me afterward like a trophy while the whole pack smirked, knowing exactly what we’d done.
No.
Screw that.
I wanted him to squirm. I wanted him to lose face in front of his precious allies, his stupid cousin’s future wife, everyone who thought he had me under control.
Payback tasted sweet.
I reached up, pulled the hair tie from my ponytail, and shook my head. Brown waves tumbled down over my shoulders, wild and messy from the shower…nothing polished or princess-like about it.
Victoria stared at me, eyes wide. “You’re…you’re really going in like that?”
“Why not?” I said, lifting my chin. “I’m the king’s bride, right? I can do whatever the hell I want.”
I turned to the maid, who looked like she might faint. “Lead the way. Now.”
She hesitated for half a second, then bowed stiffly and started walking…fast…like she could outrun the disaster she knew was coming.
Victoria fell into step beside me, whispering under her breath, “You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever met…or the most suicidal.”
I smirked, heartbeat racing with a mix of nerves and pure, electric defiance.
“Maybe both.”
The grand dining hall doors loomed ahead, tall and carved with wolf motifs, guarded by two stone-faced guards who straightened the second they saw me.
Too late to turn back now. I’m really doing this.
Let’s see how the king likes his mate showing up to his fancy dinner dressed like she couldn’t care less about his rules.
The massive double doors groaned open like they were announcing the end of the world. One of the guards…tall, scarred, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else…stepped forward and cleared his throat so loud it echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
“His Majesty’s bride,” he boomed, voice cracking just a little at the end. “Princess Arabella has arrived.”
The entire hall went dead silent.
No clinking silverware. No murmured politics. No rustle of expensive silk. Just the crackle of the huge fireplace and the sudden, collective inhale of about twenty very important people who’d all just realized the night was about to get interesting.
I took one deep breath. Then another. My heart was doing that stupid thing where it felt like it wanted to punch its way out of my chest.
Victoria hovered beside me, looking like she might disappear rather than being here at this moment. “Should I…come in with you?”
I turned my head just enough to give her a look. “Of course you should. What if I embarrass myself so bad I have to sprint out of here? I need someone to follow me and make sure I don’t trip over my own dignity on the way out.”
She blinked. Then…against all odds…she actually laughed under her breath. A tiny, nervous sound, but real.
I faced forward again. And strutted.
I didn’t walk. I strutted.
Hair flip every five steps. Chin up. Shoulders back. The crop top slightly slipping off one shoulder because who cares. Sneakers squeaking against the polished marble like they were personally insulting the room. Every single eye tracked me like I was a bomb with a lit fuse.
The long table stretched forever. Gold-rimmed plates. Crystal goblets. Candles tall enough to be weapons. Werewolves on one side, vampires on the other, and Adrian at the head like a king who’d already won.
Except his eyes were locked on me.
Not angry like I had anticipated. Not embarrassed. Just…intense. Hungry. Like he was seeing something he’d been starving for.
I refused to look away first.
Victoria led me straight down the center aisle like she was escorting royalty instead of a walking disaster. At the head of the table two chairs waited. Not one beside the other. Side by side. Equal. Both at the very top. Both screaming power.
Adrian’s chair was carved dark wood and black leather. Mine was the twin…except someone had rushed to add a thick velvet cushion so I wouldn’t look ridiculous in my sweatpants next to all that carved menace.
Lady Margaret spoke first.
Her voice came out polite as poison, but I caught every inch of the insult. “My dear…what a bold choice of attire for such an occasion. Everyone here has dressed in their finest because this dinner represents the future of the kingdom. Yet the supposed soon-to-be queen arrives looking…” She paused for dramatic effect. “…like she raided the commoners’ laundry.”
A few heads nodded. Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table. Even some of the vampires looked faintly amused in that superior, thousand-year-old way.
I looked down at myself. Then slowly looked around the table at the sea of embroidered velvet, gem-encrusted collars, silk gloves, and enough gold thread to fund a small war.
Then I shrugged.
“Ohhh,” I said, dragging the word out. “I thought this was just a fun little get-together. I didn’t realize I had to show up looking like a stuffed hamburger like you, Lady Margaret.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. Like her jaw had forgotten how hinges worked.
I kept going, voice sweet as sugar and sharp as broken glass. I kept going because I’ve been told how she in particular treated Abby in the past.
“You told me I wasn’t suitable to eat with the nobles when I wore the only royal gowns I had. Called me a worthless placeholder. Said I looked like a child playing dress-up with dresses that I’m not worthy of wearing. So I figured…why bother? I put on something I actually like. And now I’m still not suitable?” I tilted my head. “Make it make sense, auntie.”
Silence.
Thick, choking silence. And then Margaret’s shocked unbelievable gasp echoed throughout the hall.
I ignored her and turned to Victoria. “Lead the way out. I’m not hungry anymore. I’d rather eat off the floor than sit with a bunch of hypocrites.”
I spun on my heel.
And that’s when Adrian moved.
His palm slammed down on the table.
Not hard enough to break anything. Just hard enough to make every goblet jump and every head snap toward him.
Everyone gasped. Robes rustled. Someone actually whimpered.
He got up slowly from his seat. Towering over everyone in a way that screamed ‘I’m the fucking King!’
“Come,” he said. One word. And then, held out his hand towards me.