“Yes, that’s what I said, wasn’t it?” She flips her hair as she turns around. “Dinner is in thirty minutes. Do not make me look bad.”
Of course it’s always about her in the end, but thirty minutes is not nearly enough time to make myself presentable, especially without Sera’s help. Oh, how I miss her biting tongue and stories of other realms.
The laundry will have to wait. I dash up the servants’ stairs toward my room and barrel through the door. While I don’t have time for a bath, I can at least change my clothes and fix my hair.
I fly into the bathing chamber to take care of my needs, but as I wash my hands, I gasp. They are smooth and soft, the cracks from the harsh soaps nowhere to be seen. What in the gods’ names happened? Before I can fixate on my hands too much and find myself late to dinner, I splash water on my face and startle again. The late afternoon sun turned my skin a flushed and healthy-looking pink, so different from my normally pale hue. A few freckles spatter my nose, just like the ones from the day of the ball that disappeared after my stint in bed. Interesting. Today has been full of surprises, that’s for sure.
Closing my eyes, I take a moment to really consider how I feel. I’m not sure if the weird flips in my stomach are from the anticipation of my impending betrothal or the beginnings of a reaction to my affliction. I’ve been so careful for years and years, and now I’ve risked my health twice in the matter of a month.
I dry off and move to my closet, looking for something acceptable to wear. Unfortunately, it looks as if my sisters have stolen all of the nice dresses I own. An out-of-style day dress is all I have, so I quickly change into it. Gods willing, it won’t be the cause of more ire between myself and Stepmother. Perhaps I’ll steal my dresses back when my sisters are occupied.
It really is shocking how quickly they turned on me and decided treating me like the help was something I somehowdeserved. All because I’m unmarried. I’ll show them. Their jealousy will eat them alive when they find out that Kian chose me as his bride.
The ringing of the dinner bell has me cursing as I twist my hair into a coil on the back of my head while I run out the door and down the stairs. Dinner will not wait.
“Ratlyn,” Charlie says, sounding surprised as I enter the dining room.
“Good to see you too, brother,” I bite out. Gods, I really hate that nickname.
Erika and Chessa are chattering with each other but grow quiet when I find my seat, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. “No need to stop talking on my account,” I grumble.
Giving each other knowing looks, Chess tosses her pin-straight hair over her shoulder and continues their conversation. “I thoughtyoumight have had a chance with the prince after he danced with you,” Chess says to Erika, putting on a fake pout.
“With a princess in the mix? Unlikely,” Erika replies morosely.
My ears perk up. A princess?
“What are you two going on about?” I ask as I fiddle with the silverware in front of me.
“Erika just got back from court today,” Chessa brags. “I was supposed to join her, but Mama had me in lessons all afternoon.”
The ache in my back reminds me of how much time I spent scrubbing on my knees today, and it takes everything in my power to bite my tongue to keep from sniping at her.
“What rumors are floating around court these days?” I direct my question to Erika.
She blushes, refusing to meet my eyes. Perhaps she, out of all my siblings, actually feels a touch of guilt about how I’ve been treated. “Well, Princess Helene is in town visiting her sister . . .”
I nod. With Princess Juliana so close to giving birth to the long-awaited heir to the Rakveren throne, it makes sense.
“All of court is abuzz with word that an arrangement between Princess Helene and Prince Kian is imminent.”
A pit forms in my stomach. Why didn’t Kian say something about this earlier? Perhaps Erika is mistaken.
“Interesting,” I choke out.
“Raelyn,” Stepmother sneers as she enters the dining room. “I see you got the message.”
A thank you almost rolls off my tongue, but I stop myself. This woman deserves no thanks for inviting me to dinner in my own damn home.
With Stepmother’s appearance, the kitchen staff start placing the first course in front of us, and I say a thank you to them instead. “It smells delicious.” I smile.
“Raelyn,” Stepmother reprimands, “you will not speak to them.”
The maid almost cowers as she hurries back to the kitchen, and I turn to glare at Stepmother.
“Why not? You treat me like one of them, so why wouldn’t I speak to them?”
The daggers coming out of her eyes make me want to hide, but I refuse. I can’t wait to wipe the smug look off her face when she hears my news, assuming the rumors about Kian’s betrothal are false . . .
