RIPPLE

{Ten}

The next morning when I woke up, the castle was bustling and loud with servants. Everything needed to be ready for the bash this evening; decorations were being delivered, food was being delivered and some guests were arriving so early that that the royals are busy and the guest suite is full.

Much to my dislike, Darcy has arrived and is doing everything in her power to try and charm Lachlan. Nothing is working, and during breakfast he keeps sneaking careful glances in my direction.

Waverly is pouting and playing with her food. She's wearing a deep red dress that compliments her eyes and all of her curves. Lucien is no longer allowed in his human form in front of the King and Queen: they want Waverly to realize that his kind is dangerous and very much unlike us. So he sits loyally behind her in wolf form; barely blinking.

Darcy glares at me whenever she gets the chance, as though she too knows our little secret.

Darcy is beautiful in an elegantly simple kind of way. Although she was slightly paler, her hair and her eyes are dark, and she has on a long-sleeved, lacey dark pink gown. I can tell why the King and Queen like her, although nobody else at the table seems to. Darcy is elegant and there's a certain charm with those around her, power coursing through her bones and evaporating through her very pores. She knows she's special. In this world, she knows I'm not.

The dream from the previous night clung to my skin and my memory, and I couldn't do anything to shake it. Tomorrow will be day number three in this world, but it already feels like a lifetime.

I wanted to excuse myself at breakfast.

But the King and Queen had other plans for us. They demand pain to be felt. They want it to destroy you. Queen Alexandra still watches me with the occasional curiosity and every so often I gaze in Mikhail's direction, hoping that he didn't tell our secret.

There seems to be some secret rivalry between Margo and Darcy. A competition; who's kingdom is better, which wears better clothing, with Margo occasionally winning bragging rights about ruling the Kingdom with the Sinclair's first born son. And I could tell that Lachlan hated being caught in the middle of it.

My new spot was next to Tate, who was slightly more quiet at breakfast and didn't eat much.

Queen Alexandra excuses herself early. Decorations are starting to be brought in, things are starting to be moved around in the meal hall and the privileged servants around the table are few and gratefully smiling. I can hear loud crashes from outside the meal hall, and their mother's voice shouting directions.

       After breakfast, dance lessons are held in the ballroom I ran off to last night. The chandelier glitters with the light from the sun, and I sit at a table by myself to watch, not really in a dancing type of mood.

         Since the King and Queen weren't around, Lucien is allowed to partake in lessons with Waverly. The two embrace instantly. For a second, its not hard to imagine that Lucien really loves her. But his sly gaze from the sanctuary still lingers at the edges of my memory.

        Classical upbeat music comes on, and I can hear Mikhail groan as I sit down on the far side of the room, trying not to be jealous when I look at Lachlan and Darcy dancing together. I know this is all a show, but I can feel it taking hold of my insides and I'm forced to watch this as the madness unfolds inside of my veins like a deflating air balloon.

        Tate joins me at the opposite end of the table, grinning boyishly. “I can smell your little green devil from across the room.”

        I raise an eyebrow, “little green devil?”