A begrudging murmur was all Brielle would give her, but it would have to do.
The walk to the dining hall was punctuated by a silence that was abnormal for them. There was always something to say, even when there wasn’t. Luci couldn’t stop thinking about all the cryptic things Brielle said, and when she pressed her on it, Brielle would insist that she needed to speak with Prince Ira.
By the time they reached the closed doors of the hall, a small party was already gathered. Luci groaned and cursed her misfortune when she saw Lord Treveon speaking to Annabeth’s father. As if that weren’t bad enough, the moment he glanced at Luci, his smile fell as he’d just witnessed her slap a puppy. It was a comical mix of horror and fury that filled his cheeks with red.
Despite his reaction, he politely excused himself and made for Luci and Brielle.
“This is not going to go well,” Luci grumbled.
To her credit, Brielle tilted her nose into the air and threaded her arm through Luci’s. At least no one could deny her courage.
“Brielle, what is the meaning of this?” he whispered, his mustache fluttering with the venom in the words that were too quiet for anyone else to hear.
“We came to dinner as we were invited,” Brielle said.
“Youwere invited.Shewas not,” he said.
Brielle lifted a single eyebrow at him. Gone was the doting daughter who fought to maintain the fragile peace between friend and father. Instead, Brielle met his gaze unflinching.
“Why don’t you go inside and ask Ira if Luci was invited?” she challenged.
Lord Treveon stepped back, seeing his daughter for the first time. This was no frail of health maiden, but a queen, and Luciwas never so proud as she was in that moment. Even if she was inclined to agree with Lord Treveon, it was magnificent to see Brielle using her voice.
“He is only indulging you, but you will find his patience only runs so deep,” he said.
“I cannot save you from your own prejudices, Father, but I suggest you correct them before it is too late. Lucinda is and has always been our equal,” she said.
Luci inwardly coiled, trying to dodge the damning words. While she appreciated Brielle’s defense of her, to say they were equals was a stretch too far. At the end of the day, Luci was a servant who was lucky enough to serve a woman too generous for her own good.
“You go too far.” Lord Treveon’s body shook with anger.
Luci always wondered what kind of woman Brielle’s mother was that she could love such a man, but still produce a kind and generous daughter. It was a conundrum lost to the past.
“Excellent, everyone is here. Please, join us.” Prince Ira’s voice cut through the tension.
Luci was fairly certain she’d never been happier to hear his deep, but easy tone.
Like a moth to the flame, she found him easily and sucked in a breath, her chest aching. He was dressed in a black tunic, and it suited him far too well. Hugging his body and emphasizing his lean, yet strong form. His eyes caught hers, and the smile he’d been wearing fell while his eyes ran over her. She watched the prince take in a long, steadying breath and place his hand over his heart.
Next to her, Brielle hummed happily.
Her gentle voice collapsed the spell weaving around them all, and Prince Ira shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. The scent of cinnamon curled beneath them as the servants openedthe doors, revealing the rest of the royal family already seated at the long table.
“What is that smell?” Brielle asked, breathless.
It was like rolls tossed in butter and spread with a healthy dusting of cinnamon. Something Luci could easily fall into. Her stomach grumbled in answer, and she pressed a hand to it, willing it to stop and praying no one else heard it.
The reality of living in the castle was that Luci was starving most of the day. She couldn’t sneak down into the kitchens for snacks and was forced to rely on meal times. Nighttime dessert finds were a dream of the past. Her dresses fit looser lately, and while she was grateful for that, she would far rather have dessert instead. When she was twenty, and Brielle was being fitted for a gown that used more than half the fabric Luci needed for her own, Luci made peace with the fact that her destiny was not a slim waist.
“Brielle, Lucinda, Lord Treveon.” Prince Ira said, bowing his head.
“Prince Ira, I wanted to apologize for Lucinda; it was an oversight.” Lord Treveon said.
“Father!” Snapped Brielle.
Maybe Luci could ask Max if there were any magic spells for disappearing. If she could be granted one wish, it would be to escape the horror of this moment and forget it had ever happened.
“It’s all right, Brielle. Lord Treveon is right, I’ll-” Luci tried.