Cry or Cut, Like Kiss or Kill [XVII]

I have today off so that I can go to Lindsay's party. We're friends, naturally I would attend.

The party is formally informal. Meaning, of course, that it would be inappropriate to arrive in jeans, dressed like a hooker, or in a ball gown. This does not mean business attire is acceptable either. Of course, I'm not worried because I went shopping with Lindsay to get my dress.

My flat shoes make little noise as I walk on the marble floor to Lindsay's hall. She wants me to meet Armando before the party, so I'm happily obliging to her wishes. The castle seems so quite because everyone that's working is down in the kitchen or dining hall.

Each of the king's children has their own hall in the castle. He has a whole floor, but every one of his children has an identical hall containing two guest bedrooms, a master bedroom, a lounge, a study, and an extra room to be whatever they want it to be. All of the bedrooms have en suit bathrooms, of course. Lindsay's extra room was converted into a really big closet, and Ziven's was made into his own library. I've never seen any of the other halls, but I do know Armando will be staying in one of Ziven's extra rooms just as Aubrey has been staying in one of Lindsay's.

Trust me, I am not happy about that.

So I'm peacefully on my way, smiling to myself, but it's no wonder that I can never have a good day. Honestly, I'm still at a loss for karma's reasoning behind making my life a living hell. I've concluded it must be my past life…

"You, come here," Aubrey demands, peeking out from her door as if I'm beneath her or some shit.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise by her attitude and stop to look at her.

"Excuse me?" I ask. Yet again, this evil bitch has managed to infringe upon one of my days off. It's like there must be a flashing sign over my head that clearly states: I'm off duty, but how can I help you?

"I said," she says harshly, "come here."

"I'm sorry, did you not get the memo? I'm a guest at today's event, not a member of the staff," I tell her callously.

She scoffs and steps farther out of her room, her eyes malicious. It's like she doesn't understand---still---that I'm taller than she is because she acts like she can look down at me. I almost feel bad for her. Almost.

"Who do you think you are? You're still employed by the royal family, my future family. See?" she tells me cruelly, lifting her left hand beside her face and pointing to her ring finger---adorned with a sparkling pink diamond---with her other hand and wiggling her fingers as if to rub it in my face. All I can really think at the moment is: she totally picked that hideous thing out herself. "I could have you fired," she threatens.

"Ziven would never fire me," I retort confidently. He wouldn't, I'm sure of it.

"He'll do whatever I say," she spits. "Besides, what makes you think he cares about you? You're just a charity case, honey. Nobody here could really care any less about whether or not you eat out of a trash can," she points out cruelly, her face displaying utter disgust.

"Lindsay is my friend, regardless of whether she pities me or not," I tell her.

"Is that what you think?" she laughs, leaning against her door frame now. "Every single member of this family is nice to you because they're covering their tracks. Could you image if news got out about how they had let a criminal go and said criminal ended up with an abducted American? That would be terrible press coverage, honey," she sighs ruthlessly. I bite back my rage, and clench my fists at her calling me stupid endearments.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I growl.

Who does she think she is? Prince's fiancée or not, there are certain things that are completely inappropriate and off-limits to be spoken of. What happened to me is my business and she has no right mentioning it even if she does know about it all.

"But on the contrary, honey, I do. I know all about you. Did you think my parents would just let some pathetic little servant girl waltz in and steal my spot on the throne? I sure hope not because that would be incredibly ignorant of you. No, Eira," she spews my name like it's poison, "we checked up on you. We did our homework."

At this point, it's really only the thought of Lindsay and what she would say about a fight that holds me back. And the fact that I'm wearing a dress so it would be rather difficult to be caught in a brawl without ripping it to shreds. And then there's Ziven. He would be incredibly disappointed in me if I were to jump and shank his "future wife". I totally could though, I totally could.

"You're a worthless piece of American scum, honey. You give those people a bad name: whore. That's what you were, wasn't it? A whore? You let men touch you and have you and be with you. And you liked it, didn't you? So why would my Ziven ever want to be with something like that? Because that's exactly what you are, a thing."

Fury erupts inside of me like acid, melting my bones and turning me into an empty mold of goo and rage. My eyes burn with wrath and hatred and from the fact that I haven't blinked in over a minute. My hands are starting to bleed because my short nails are dug so deep into my flesh it broke my skin. My jaw is closed tight, teeth ready to grind against each other if I move it. I'm stuck. I could hurt her, but I'm stuck. All of those things she's said, I've felt, but to be told by someone else that you're useless is more painful than telling it to yourself.

"Come on," she chuckles, "you don't even have anything to say to me? You don't deny that you belong with the rubbish of the world? The sluts and whores and homeless? That's brilliant, then. I'm glad you know your place. Maybe you'll do your job now," she finishes.

I could scream. I could emit the most bloodcurdling and horrific scream imaginable, but I find I can't speak. There's nothing I can say because it's all true. Every last word.

Laughing, she disappears into her room and closes the door. I'm tempted to wipe the blood from my hand across it, but think better of it when I realize that I'll be the one to clean it up.

"Eira?" Lindsay's gentle voice calls from down the hall. I can't move, frozen in the inner frenzy of emotions I feel. I can sense I'm shaking in anger, but it's involuntary, like breathing. "Eira!" she gasps. "What's wrong? Are you alright? Holy shit, you're bleeding! Armando! Eira, what happened?"

All I manage to say as she and the man I assume to be Armando run up to me is, "Aubrey."