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Chapter 20

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I'd already broken so many antiques that the debt I owed the Deniauds' was skyrocketing

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I'd already broken so many antiques that the debt I owed the Deniauds' was skyrocketing. Instead, I bounced up and down on my feet. My voice was pitched loud and shrill. "MISS WYCHTHORN! MISS WYCHTHORN!"

It jarred Valarie from her attack.

Her head spun my way. Fury fogged her eyes and cleared like dissipating mist when she saw me standing there. She stood with her legs braced apart, arm pulled back, and her body trembling with lethal tension while she panted rageful breaths.

Laurena's gaze also snapped my way with such unadulterated hatred shining maliciously in her eyes it almost had me staggering backward.

I ducked my head politely. "Miss Wychthorn, your tea," I said, with a practiced smile I certainly didn't feel, and hurried toward her.

Laurena delivered a discourteous glare, tinged with confusion that I was there. Her dark blond eyebrows drew over eyes swimming with venom when she swiveled back to Valarie, giving the other girl's fist beginning to lower a taunting glance. "What are you going to do, Valarie? Hit me?" Her top lip curled into a sneer. "Go on, I dare you," she purred with a menacing edge to her voice, leaning closer, getting right into Valarie's face. "I'd love to bring you to heel. Take you to task."

Valarie flinched as if she'd been the one struck. Her resolve faltered. She briefly closed her eyes, and her arm fell to her side as her shoulders sagged, shrinking inwardly once more. She slumped against the wall and her hair fell across her face like a waterfall of midnight.

Smugness gleamed in Laurena's blue eyes. "Didn't think so."

"Miss Wychthorn," I sang out a little too bright and cheerful, as I reached her. I balanced the tray on one hand while I opened the door to her bedroom and held it for her, waiting with an expected expression, hoping she'd leave Valarie alone and retire to her room.

Laurena had one last piece of advice for Valarie before she entered her room. "If you know what's good for you and your family, Valarie Crowther, keep away from my brother."

The Wychthorn Princess sauntered into her bedroom, looking extremely pleased with herself. I shut the door, catching one last glimpse of Valarie. It felt like Laurena had stabbed a thin blade through my heart and brutally twisted it, to see Valarie's heartache and impotent rage she couldn't direct at anyone but herself. She was barely standing up, supported by the hallway wall, staring up at the ceiling as dewy teardrops slid down her pale cheeks. Her bottom lip, as well as her hands, trembled.

But I couldn't stop to comfort her, I had my own sly agenda to attend to first.

The door closed with a soft snick, and I carried the silver tea tray through the large and opulent bedroom with its four-poster bed and gold-leafed loveseat, past the regal fireplace, to the whitewashed square table with its high-backed chairs adorned in the tangled raspberry pattern that Mrs. Deniaud was currently fond of.

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