they realise I’m the blessed woman from the recent choosing ceremony. I want to shy away and hurry back to my friends, but I feel a hot set of eyes on me, and as I look up, I see the king is staring at me, his expression amused. He tips his head towards me and my mark flares again, but this time I’m filled with a sense of warning. The king means me harm, that much is true from the burning pain in my arm, so I must tread carefully.
Lifting my chin, I begin the walk back to my friends, simply nodding to those who smile or try to engage me in conversation but not stopping. The Mother chose me for some purpose—me, out of all these people—and I must trust in her wisdom.
As soon as I approach my friends, Wilson steps forward to escort me back to our group, linking my arm with his. “Are you okay?”
I don’t say anything, not trusting my voice just yet, but I nod, and it’s the truth. I am okay, I have the Goddess behind me. Reaching Aileen and Lord Bastian, I smile tightly when they give me sympathetic expressions.
“What did he want?” Wilson inquires, and I’m glad he waited to ask until we were back here. I know Aileen would have asked the same thing, so at least this way I only have to explain once.
“Slimy git,” Aileen spits, glaring towards the advisor who is now talking into the king’s ear.
“He was just warning me.” I look at Wilson as I speak, hoping he understands what I’m trying to tell him and the implications behind it.
Picking up on the tension, Aileen glances between us, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What was he warning you about?”
I’m saved from answering when a loud clatter crashes through the hall. Gasps sound around us before everyone falls silent as they watch the spectacle. One of the ladies in a bright, rich purple dress stumbled into one of the servants, knocking against the tray he was carrying and sending glasses of wine smashing to the floor.
“You fool! You walked right into me.” It’s easy to see she’s completely intoxicated, her words slurring as she struggles to stay upright. Grabbing onto the lapels of the serving boy’s jacket, she pulls him in close, and for a second I think she’s going to smack him. Anger surges inside me.
I should do something.
A hand on my arm has me turning to see Wilson shaking his head, and I realise I took an inadvertent step forward. Thankfully, no one seems to notice, and I step back, nodding my thanks at Wilson. My anger still burns, but now is not the time to cause a scene, not with so many people here just waiting for me to make a mistake.
“If you mess this up for me, I will—” The woman continues to shriek until someone hurries over to her and pulls her away, whispering furiously in her ear. The poor server backs away and tries to pick up the glasses with shaking hands.
I don’t know what comes over me, but seeing him shaking under the stares of all those people makes something within me snap. Shaking off Wilson’s hold, I walk over to the servant and kneel down next to him. I don’t say anything, I simply start picking up the large pieces of glass and placing them on his tray, which is resting on the floor next to us. He looks at me with wide eyes, and I know he wants to say something, but so many people are watching us that he doesn’t dare speak. My dress fans out around me, the edges soaking up some of the spilled wine, but I don’t care. I’m sure I will get into trouble for this later, but I’m not going to pretend like I want to fit in with these people. After a couple of seconds, a shadow appears over my shoulder, and I steel myself for the consequences of my actions, but instead, Wilson kneels beside me and helps clean up the glass.
Once we’ve finished, the server whispers a quiet thank you before hoisting the tray and hurrying away. Standing, Wilson offers me his hand and helps me get to my feet. The music has restarted, and people are standing around pretending not to watch us as they gossip. He gives me a look, and I know he’s not pleased with my little rebellion, but there’s nothing to be done about