(Tilly Ann)
"You look different," Electra announced, squinting at me like I was a puzzle she couldn't solve.
"True. You are not angry," Jovina agreed, nodding sagely. "You look considerably sane for someone who got married off behind her back."
"I am always sane," I insisted.
"Not always. Occasionally, maybe," Electra countered, her eyes narrowing. "You are, after all, still the girl who set fire to the barn because the keeper mistakenly sold your favorite calf."
They both folded their arms, pinning me in place. I was an anomaly they were determined to crack.
How could I explain it? They were good girls from good families. They'd probably faint if I described what Chase Dubois's mouth felt like. I barely understood it, and I'd been on the receiving end.
"Why haven't you gone scorched earth on everyone for this, Tilly Ann?" Electra demanded.
"It is my royal duty to obey my father's command—"
"I call horse shit!" she cut in.
"I don't believe you. Not for a second!" Jovina echoed. "What's the real truth?"
I sighed. The facade was too heavy to hold. "Fine. Chase Dubois… interests me. He's a good challenge."
"You like him!" they accused in unison.
I gasped with theatrical horror. "I do not! Have you met him? He's an arse!"
"He's the Lycan Prince, Tilly."
"He's a pervert!" I blurted.
Jovina's eyes went wide. "Has he kissed you?" she asked, making obnoxious kissing sounds.
"She's a princess! He would never disrespect her like that!" Electra said, genuinely scandalized.
There. I'd made the right choice. They'd never understand the hurricane that had crashed into my life, turning everything upside down. The man was two different people, and I only craved one of them.
"I'm ignoring you both," I declared, striding ahead.
The sun was obnoxiously bright as we walked. My father had summoned Kessington and me to the training arena—his not-so-subtle way of issuing a command.
We passed the palace courtyard where the children played. A tiny girl rushed toward me.
"Princess Tilly! Up! Up!"
I looked down into her wide, pleading eyes. Does she know her princess is currently a mess of confusing, illicit memories? I needed to focus. To build a wall in my mind. My parents were powerful mind-readers; my stray thoughts were as good as shouting my secrets.
I scooped her up, tossed her, and caught her, the simple motion a welcome distraction. Three more children swarmed us, all tugging at my skirts.
I was launching a giggling boy when a voice barked across the courtyard.
"TILLY ANN!"
I caught the boy and tucked him under my arm. Kessington stood at the arena entrance, his face twisted in disgust.
"Father is waiting. And you're here playing with… those things."
"You mean children, Kess?" I grinned. "Here, catch!" I fake-lobbed the boy toward him.
Kessington yelped and jumped back as if I'd hurled a live scorpion. My friends and I burst into laughter.
"It's not funny!" he hissed, shuddering. "Their tiny little hands… their beady eyes. It's unnatural. Now, come on."
Still smiling, I told Electra and Jovina to wait and followed him inside.
Mind shield up, I chanted internally. Think of boring things. Dragon feed. Saddle polish. Not Chase's hands. Definitely not his tongue.
The arena smelled of dragon and leather. My father, Adonis, was wrestling with a stubborn strap on his great dragon, Thunder.
"You called, Father?"
"I did." He grunted, giving the leather a futile yank. "Tell me. This match. Do you find it… acceptable? Has the Dubois boy been gentlemanly? Courteous?"
A snort of laughter tried to escape my nose. Gentlemanly? Courteous?
Think of the strap, Tilly. Just the strap.
Not the way he pinned you to the wall.
"Tilly Ann?" Father's voice sharpened. He took a step closer, his eyes missing nothing. "He did what?!"
Dragon poo. Think about dragon poo.
Too late.
The image flashed vividly, Chase on his knees before me, his dark head bowed in between my…
My father took another step, his easygoing demeanor hardening into the intensity of a Dragon Lord. "Did he do something to you?!"
Fuck. He's in my head.
I threw every mental brick I had at the crumbling wall in my mind. Shields up! Shields up!
I looked from my father's face to Kessington's suddenly alert stance.
Great. A full, telepathic audience.
"Father, he's…" I started, but the words dissolved. He touched me was a pathetic understatement.
"He touched you?!" Kessington yelled
"Kessington, get the fuck out of my head!" I screamed back, my voice echoing in the quiet arena.
"What do you mean, he touched you?" Kessington advanced, his fists clenched. "Speak fast. Before I find his invalid arse and bash his face in!"
Oh, poor Kessington. My mental shield faltered, and one clear, brutal truth slipped through the cracks:
If you knew what he did with you just outside the door, you would explode into tiny flames.
The air left the arena.
"He was in your room?!" The roar came from both of them.