her mouth. Instead, crumbs fell onto the bodice of her dress, and the dry scone stuck like glue in her throat. She coughed, spraying bits of scone onto her plate and reached frantically for her cup of tea.
Guzzling it down, she spit it out when it burned her throat, coating the plate of pastries in a thin layer of regurgitated tea. The coughing fit didn’t end, and she pounded on her chest, unable to breathe in the tight dress. Once it finally subsided, she built up the courage to look at her aunt—the queen—which still seemed ridiculous to her.
The queen was too slow to cover up her look of horror, and Brea couldn’t blame her. It was the moment Regan realized she’d made a huge mistake, that her niece wasn’t fit to clean the floors of a palace, let alone live in one.
“I’m sorry, they didn’t teach etiquette at the Clarkson Institute,” Brea blurted.
Griff shook in silent laughter, the grim expression he’d worn since seeing his brother gone. She had the urge to reach out and punch him, but that would probably be frowned upon—just like spitting her food all over the queen’s impeccable table.
A brown stain spread over the white lace tablecloth where tea dripped from the corner of her plate. Brea couldn’t take her eyes from the evidence that she didn’t belong here.
A slow smile overtook the disgust on the queen’s face, and before long, she joined Griff in his laughter, the sound high and vibrant like the tinkling of a waterfall.
Brea clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap, not knowing exactly what to do. She absently picked up her scone again before staring at it in accusation and setting it down. “The scone was dry.” She cringed at her words. “I just mean… at Starbucks, they’re more like cake. I wasn’t expecting a biscuit, and I bit off too much, but then the tea was hot, and—”
Griff cut her off. “We saw it play out, Brea. We don’t need another account.”
Brea scooted her chair back and stood. “I’m so sorry, Auntie. I wanted to make a good impression, but this is all a little too much. I’ll understand if you want to send me back—not like I have much to go back to other than a murder charge for killing my best friend and parents who think I’m insane.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Please forget I told you about that. I’m not a murderer. I swear. I miss Myles, and it was my fault, but I didn’t mean to kill him. I swear.”
“Brea.” Griff raised a brow. “You’re rambling.”
“I know!” she burst out before clapping a hand over her mouth again. “I just yelled in front of a queen. It’s just, I ramble. I’m clumsy. Sometimes I even talk to myself. I’ve lived my entire life with people telling me the things I see aren’t real. This is who I am, Aunt Regan. I’m totally not calling you Auntie because I’m not a hundred. Do you want me to stay or not?”
The queen’s keen eyes didn’t stray from her face as she studied her. “Yes, dear. I knew all these things about you already.” She stood. “You will stay. But I believe you could do with some rest. I will send my own personal Lady’s maid to look after you.”
“But I already have maids.”
“The triplets are wonderful housemaids, but they can be a bit… over stimulating, and they haven’t trained as Lady’s maids yet. You will still see them from time to time, but I think Neeve will be a perfect fit for you, dear. Griff, please escort Brea back to her rooms.”
Griff stood and bowed at the waist. “Yes, your Majesty.”
The queen bustled away in a swish of skirts, her heels sounding against the floor in her retreat.
“She hates me.” Brea flopped face first onto the bed, yanking at the bottom of her dress so it stopped pulling on her.
“She doesn’t hate you.” Griff hesitated in the doorway. “She just doesn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Or overwhelm herself.” Her parents never let her forget what a burden she’d been to them with her hallucinations and outbursts. “I don’t want to be a burden anymore.” Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“Is that really what you think?” Griff stepped into the room and shut the door. His long strides brought him to the edge of the bed. “That you’re a burden?”
Brea sat up and shrugged.
Griff’s eyes met hers. “Brea, you’re wanted