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I tip my chin up. “Ladies.”
Lara scoffs and rolls her eyes. The centaur dips into a bow and excuses herself, but Lara simply turns her back on me and sashays toward the great hall. The blue dress she’s wearing hits mid-thigh, showcasing a smooth expanse of green skin. She’d be pretty if not for her shitty attitude.
“She should have bowed,” Orana says, squinting at the older ogre’s back.
I lift a shoulder. “It’s okay.”
She frowns at me. “No it’s not, Daisy. You’re the queen. Mom says people should respect their queen.”
“Well, I doubt Lara will ever respect me. She likes your brother.” But there’s no way Orcus would be attracted to an ogre like Lara. She’s everything he didn’t want—ambitious.
Orana makes a face. “Gross.”
I try not to laugh. “You realizeIlike your brother.”
Her face scrunches in even more disgust. “Don’t remind me.”
The littlest of the sisters is taller than me and yet there’s no denying that those are the words of a child.
“It’s okay,” I tell her again. “She won’t ruin my night.”
“No,” Orana says, glancing at me. “She won’t. I heard we were having cake tonight.” And with that, she hurries toward the great hall.
I stare after her and shake my head. It’s nice that she was offended for me. I do want respect, but after sacrificing the king, I knew some monsters would begin to question my motivations.
Wait a second. Why aren’t I running toward the cake?
You’re being a chicken shit.
The voice in my head isn’t wrong. Steeling myself, I roll my shoulders back and tip my chin ever so slightly and glide toward the sounds of a hundred monsters. How many more will look at me the way Lara did? How many people has she turned against me already?
Anxiety swims in my gut and the Daisy who is used to pleasing everyone is trying to find an excuse to find Lara and charm her into being friends, but the more recent version of myself says fuck that ogre. She’s a cunt. I narrow my eyes and clench my fists at my side as I turn into the great hall. Every head swings in my direction.
I don’t falter. I don’t cower. My gaze searches for Orcus’, finding him smack in the center of the royal table. I hold those navy eyes and let my hips sway a little more than necessary as I head up the navy velvet rug. Monsters bow as I walk by. A smirk works over Orcus face and he leans forward, slowly lowering his gaze down my body and dragging it back up. The heat flashing across his face is born from a desire I know all too well thanks to the bond.
A whisper reaches my ears, a snake full of jealous hate. I simply walk straight to my seat. A minotaur servant pulls it out, but Orcus grabs me and yanks me into his lap. My hand finds his left tusk on instinct and our lips crash together. The room could be full of deadly vipers and I wouldn’t care, not with the way he professes his devotion in one single, mind-altering kiss.
When we break apart, I grin up at him. “Hey, grumpy.”
“Sunshine,” he rumbles, brushing his nose against mine.
“As much as I love your lap, I don’t think I can eat like this.”
He arches his eyebrow, like he’s tempted to make me try, but eventually the hold on my hips loosens and I slide into my seat. For the first time since handing over the king, I face the court. Most are still bowed, but a brave few are standing, perhaps never having bowed at all.
Standing at the center of a small group, Lara glares at me. The centaur from earlier casts her eyes down, but the two harpies with webbed wings don the same scowl as Lara.
“Keep looking at my mate like that, Lara, and I’ll ask the trulls to bring me your eyes,” Orcus says before taking an unbothered sip from his goblet.
The ogre startles. “Forgive me, your majesty, but you can’t expect me, or any of us, to bow to the one who gave up our king. Your father.” She squints at me. “She’s a traitor.”
I clench my fists in my lap. Lara wasn’t there that day with the furies, but everyone knows by now. That’s the way gossip works and there’s no way that something as monumental as that would stay a secret.
Orcus starts to rise, but his mother beats him to it. Lara and her minions drop into a bow for Orshana.
“The ceremony may not have happened yet, but make no mistake, my son and his mate are your new king and queen.” She pauses and lets those words sink in. “Come here, Lara. Bring your friends.”
The ogre shares a concerned look with her posse, but she can’t deny Orshana. They find their way in front of the royal table, standing before the queen as she was asked. In this light, it’s easy to see the series of veins that run through the harpies’ wings, streaks of lightning cutting across a dark night. The tension is so thick and their hate is so tangible, my throat constricts. I hate confrontation.
