She was weak.
She was obedient.
She always listened.
Ava Mays was the good girl and she had the weakness of not being able to say no. She would always listen to her mother, she would do literally anything her mother asked of her.
Literally, Legitima...
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Ava’s POV
The next morning I awake in panic when I notice I'm not in my own bed. Instead, I'm in what looks like to be a very rich person's house.
Then the memories from yesterday come back to me, and I realize where I am and, more importantly, that I'm still engaged.
Feeling drowsy I get out of Thomas's bed and look around for him. Where is he?
I see a note stuck on the wall it says: Hey, Ava. I'm out right now, you can go downstairs and have breakfast. I'm sure my stepmom will make sure to give you something to do afterward.
- Thomas
I notice a light blue gown on the ground and put it on, then head downstairs. I walk into the dining room to see the royal family and my mother, who all seem to be in the middle of breakfast.
My mother gives me a tight smile and says, "Took you long enough to join us, Ava."
"Sorry," I reply.
The queen points to an empty chair and says, "Sit."
I do and silence consumes the room. I wonder if they were talking about me because when I entered everyone quickly stopped talking.
Trying to break the awkward silence, I ask, "So where did Thomas go off to?"
The king shrugs and says, "No clue. He's always off somewhere, doing who knows what."
I'm shocked. "What if something happened to him?" I ask.
The king replies, "He knows how to take care of himself."
"Oh, ok then," I say. Such a caring family, I think while shoveling eggs into my mouth.
Silence reigns again, but my mother breaks it and says, "So when is Ava going to be queen?"
I choke on my mouthful of eggs. I can't believe my mother just asked that. Though, I can't help my own curiosity, not because I want to be queen but because I don't.
The queen looks shocked and rudely says, "Once I'm dead."
My mother wrinkles her nose and through pursed lips asks, "When are you going to die?"
I drop my fork, sending it clattering against the fine china. What the fuck does my mother think she's doing? She has no manners.
I force out a tense laugh and try to cut through the tension, "Mother mind yourself, please. You seem to have forgotten your manners and who you're speaking to." I stress the last part, hoping that my mom would realize just how serious her misbehavior is.
The queen smiles at me and says, "Yes, do mind your manners. Your daughter, at least, has a sense of dignity. Thank God she's becoming queen and not someone like you."
