Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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I was on edge. An irritated off-kilter feeling itched beneath my skin and made it impossible to relax. The twin-link between Valarie and I hummed in disharmony. I had a good idea as to who could have upset her—Laurena. The snippy princess had accosted us both just as we were heading out for the morning, intending to find a spot away from all the other pampered and pretentious guests, where Valarie was keen to do some sketching. But Laurena had invited Valarie to join her and Marissa, and there was nothing either of us could say to decline. Laurena was a Wychthorn Princess and she was denied nothing, even our company.
That was the reason why I was out here in the middle of the lawn, mixing with the servants and helping to set up the festivities for the evening—to burn off the anxious energy with physical labor. It also provided me with an excuse to keep an eye out for Miss Uptight. Truthfully, I was low-level stalking her.
I'd taken off my jacket and rolled my shirt sleeves up. Golden strands of prickly straw stuck to my suit's pants and shirt as I grabbed hold of another straw bale from the trailer and hauled it over to where we were continuing to line them up to edge the dance area and provide more seating. I dropped it onto the grass with a thud, jutting it into place with my shoe. I wasn't exactly dressed for this kind of work, but what the hells.
As I turned back toward the trailer, I noticed in the corner of my eye Miss Uptight arrive. She was walking across the lush green lawn with a few other servants, all of them carrying trays with stacks of glasses. Her eyes widened in surprise as she spotted me stride back to the trailer to grab another bale. I watched as she made her way to the long trestle tables and unload the glasses from her tray, arranging them into rows of neat lines near large, empty punch bowls.
She gave me another curious glance over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing and following me as I carried a new bale of straw back to the wall we were forming. I assumed she was wondering why I, a supposed hunter, was helping out, especially with the way I'd behaved last night. A moment later, her lips curved into a small smile as if she approved.
I kicked the straw bale, shifting it a little to line up better with the one beside it. Then I kind of leaned against it, patting it like I was part of the team sorting it out.
Godsdammit, I was part of the team sorting it out.
Why the fuck was I feeling guilty?
Because this was a ruse to spy on her. And she had no idea I wasn't a servant.
I brushed off the straw sticking to my pants, and when I glanced up I discovered she was gone, walking back toward the mansion in a tight cluster of black uniforms as she and her colleagues laughed and chatted.
It was too late to bolt when I realized a small group of entitled wankers were almost upon me. I mentally groaned. The Sweater Brigade was here, led as usual by Aldert Pelan. His caramel eyes were fixed on me as he approached.
