LAYLA'S POVThe morning starts the way it always does, with orders barked at me like I am little more than furniture.
"Layla," the head maid snaps. "You'll serve drinks to Lady Allora and her companions in the courtyard. Now."
A pit forms in my stomach instantly. My hands freeze around the stack of linens I've been folding. Of all the nobles, Allora is the one I dread most. These days, she never misses an opportunity to cut me down and to embarrass me. Yet there is nothing I can do.
I swallow hard and nod. "Yes, ma'am."
I carry a tray that has crystal goblets filled with wine. My fingers tremble as I adjust the weight. I tell myself over and over, be invisible, keep your head down, stay quiet.
I walk to the courtyard. The courtyard is bright. The sunlight brightens roses around the pergola. Allora and her circle of noblewomen sit on the couches like queens. I can hear them laughing as I walk down.
The moment I step into view, the laughter dies down. Every head turns toward me. My chest tightens.
Allora's lips curve. Her smile isn't warm. It's a weapon.
"Layla," she coos. "Come, serve us."
I bow my head. "Good day, my ladies."
I approach carefully. My grip on the tray is too tight. I set each goblet down in front of all the women. I do my best to keep my eyes down. I don't want any attention.
But Allora never lets anything slip past her unnoticed.
"My, what rough hands," she says as I pour. "Do the servants here not even bother with proper grooming? Look at the way she grips the tray, so clumsy."
The women around her chuckle. I bite the inside of my lip until the taste of blood fills my mouth. I tell myself to breathe, to stay still, to not give her the satisfaction.
"And that dress," another woman speaks, looking at me from head to toe. "Plain as dirt. I suppose it matches her status."
They laugh again. I don't say anything. I keep my head bowed.
Allora smirks as she swirls her wine, then she tilts it. The drink pours on the ground. She gasps dramatically.
"Oh, how clumsy of me." She looks straight at me with a smile. "Layla, be useful. Clean this up."
I get down on my knees and begin blotting the spill with the cloth she shoves at me. The ground is cold beneath my knees, but her words are colder.
"This is where you belong," she whispers, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Crawling on the floor."
The noblewomen laugh even louder. One leans forward, feigning pity. "Poor thing. She must be used to this. Perhaps she even enjoys it."
Another round of cruel laughter. My face burns hot. I can feel the shame twisting like a knife in my chest. My wolf whimpers inside me. We both feel so small and powerless. I bite down harder on my lip, forcing myself not to cry, not here, not in front of them.
Somehow, I finish. I place the soiled cloth aside, bow once more, and turn to leave. Only when I round the corner and their laughter fades behind me does my vision blur. Tears roll down my cheeks, blinding me.
I run.
The library is the first place I think of going to. I run inside. The silence here usually makes me feel a bit relieved, but today, even here, I can't breathe. The walls feel too high right now. It feels like they're closing in on me.
I press my back to the wall, holding my hands to my chest, and try to stop my sobs. But they come anyway. I cry hard.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps. I freeze, wiping my face quickly. But it's too late.
Lucian appears between the aisles. His dark presence fills the space. His amber eyes find me instantly.
"Layla," he says softly. "I've been looking for you."
I back a step against the wall. "Lord Lucian. I-I'm fine. You don't need to—"
He moves closer. He places one hand against the shelf beside my head. Not trapping, but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him. My pulse races wildly.
"What's wrong?" he asks softly.
"It's nothing," I whisper. My throat aches. My words sound small, weak.
Lucian's hand lifts slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my cheek. The tenderness in the gesture shatters what little control I have left. I start to cry again.
He pulls me against him. His arms are strong. I bury my face in his shirt. My sobs soak him, but he doesn't flinch.
"They will never accept you," he murmurs above my head. "Then let me. Marry me, Layla. Leave this place behind."
I freeze.
The words hit me harder than any slap. I pull back slightly, searching his face. "M… marry you?" My voice shakes.
He stares into my eyes. "Yes."
I am beyond shocked. What? Marriage? With Lucian? Does he mean it? Or is this another game of power, another trap? What is he really playing at?
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The words tangle in my throat.
Lucian cups my face with one hand. His thumb brushes the tears away from my cheeks.
And then…
BANG.
The library doors slam open. I flinch, turning my head toward the noise.
Kaiden. Killian. Kieran.
They stand in the doorway. Their eyes are filled with fury. The air vibrates with their rage.
My breath hitches. My heart stops.