Andrea's POV
I woke to the soft rustle of fabric and the faint scent of lavender. Luc and Ani were already in the room, quietly moving about with practiced grace. One was fluffing pillows, the other laying out a pale-blue dress on the chaise.
"You're awake," Luc said gently. "Good morning, Lady Andrea."
I sat up slowly, blinking away sleep. "You don't have to call me that. Just Andrea is fine."
Ani smiled but didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward with a warm cloth and a tray of essentials. I insisted, again, that I could handle things myself, but they didn't let me lift a finger. They were graceful but firm, guiding me through the routine until I was washed, dressed, and pulled together like someone meant to sit at a royal table.
I didn't feel like royalty.
Still the same girl Mother Theresa had carefully shaped, like she always knew something I didn't. Of course, she knew. All those lessons: table manners, how to walk properly, how to read with grace, even how to play an instrument. Only a few of us got that kind of training, just me and Cynthia, really. And I never liked Cynthia.
Mother Theresa never showed me affection. Not once. She never smiled at me, never hugged me, never said a kind word. But somehow, everyone at the orphanage believed she treated me like I was special. I never felt that. I don't miss her in the way they probably think I do.
But now, with everything that's happening… these people, the things they're saying… I find myself curious. Maybe I do want to see her again, if only for the answers she might still be holding.
Downstairs, the smell of warm bread, spices, and honey led us into a sunlit dining hall that looked like it belonged in a painting. Long oak table. Gold-trimmed china. A dozen eyes already seated.
The royal family. My steps faltered at the threshold.
The Queen Mother sat at the head of the table, regal and unreadable. Amalia gave me a small wave and an encouraging smile. And beside her—
Ashley. Perfect. Polished. Poison in lipstick form. At the far end sat James, the beta, who offered me a respectful nod and a reassuring smile. I clutched my hands together, nerves crawling under my skin.
The Queen Mother's gaze locked onto mine. Lionel, Joseph, and Matthew were already standing before I even registered their movements, their eyes sharp, their posture tense. Protective.
"I can take you out for breakfast," Lionel said smoothly, his tone lined with warning. "You don't have to eat here. If you are uncomfortable"
But the Queen Mother raised one hand, palm poised like a queen addressing her court.
"Sit," she said firmly. "As the future Luna, you must uphold tradition. Meals are taken together."
There was silence for a heartbeat.
Then Lionel stepped to my side and gently pulled out a chair. I sat, trying to breathe. His fingers brushed my shoulder, a subtle comfort, and then he took the seat beside me.
"Hello," Ashley said sweetly, leaning across the table. "We didn't get a chance to talk yesterday. I'm Ashley, a friend of the family."
Her smile was soft. Too soft. The kind of softness a snake uses before it strikes.
"I figured you'd feel a little... out of place. It's okay if you don't know how to use the cutlery." Her voice dripped sugar. "No one will judge you if you want to use your hands."
Every pair of eyes turned toward her. Except mine. I kept my gaze on the table, then slowly reached for the fork and knife. With quiet confidence, I began to cut into the eggs on my plate and took a bite with perfect form.
Then I looked at her. Just a glance. But it was enough.
The brothers smiled, Lionel with pride, Matthew with amusement, Joseph with smug satisfaction. Even Amalia let out a soft chuckle.
Ashley's smile faltered, and I went back to my food like she didn't exist. Amalia broke the silence. "We'll be going shopping today—just us girls. She needs new clothes. That wardrobe's a disaster." Lionel turned to look at James.
"She can't go out yet," Lionel said instantly. "She needs rest," Matthew added.
"Come on, brothers," Amalia said, grinning. "What are you afraid of? You can face down rogue packs and shadow beasts, but not a trip to the market?"
"She's fine," Amalia continued before they could argue. "And we'll take extra guards. You are not locking her up in that room like some hidden secret." Lionel turned to me, and his expression softened. "Are you feeling up to it?"
I nodded. "If that's okay. I could use some air. And Amalia seems... safe."
"Of course it's okay," Matthew said. "As long as you want to go and she's not dragging you." Joseph leaned across the table with a grin. "But if she annoys you, tell me. I'll deal with her myself."
"Joseph!" Amalia gasped, mock-offended. Ashley's jaw ticked.
Without another word, the three brothers reached into their jackets and each pulled out a black credit card, placing them in front of me. I stared at them, confused.
"Thank you, my generous brothers," Amalia said sweetly, collecting the cards with a wink. "We'll go all out."
"Well then!" she turned to me with a triumphant grin. "Time to go!" Before I could overthink it, she hooked her arm around mine and practically dragged me from the table.
And just like that, I was being swept into something entirely unfamiliar—again. But this time… I didn't feel like running.