Chapter 7: Chapter 7

The hallway is enormous and forbidding. The Gothic craftsmanship looks like it would be impossible to construct, but I also don’t know what kind of technology is available in this place.

A thrill shoots through me, and even though I am a servant, I will admit that this is still awesome. Seriously, as we go into room after room, I must make sure my mouth is not hanging open.

I feel like I’m starring in my own movie, and all this scenery should be bright green in a large green room, with the complex special effects added later.

The walls look like they’re made from a dark, organic material that reminds me of granite or marble. I don’t think a bomb could take out this place.

I have so many questions. My curiosity is firing on all cylinders now. But I’m not dumb enough to ask the headmaster, ~“These walls are fabulous, what are they made out of?”~

Yeah, right.

And then, ~“What’s your favorite color? I’m a purple person, myself.”~

The headmaster does not strike me as a chatty sort.

With heads lowered, nobody talks—ever. We all follow the headmaster to our next duties. We have already beaten the carpets in some of the spare bedrooms and replaced all the linens.

Apparently, kingdoms from all over are coming for the Garthorn festivities.

Rumor has it that grand balls will be held because Prince Apollo needs to find a dearly betrothed. King Augustus’s last dying wish is to see his eldest son married.

Mort confirmed earlier that she thinks the king’s sudden health decline is being caused by foul play, and Apollo could be next.

Someone wants the throne, and I would assume they do not want to see Apollo be king. Perhaps a younger brother? An uncle? Hard to say.

I can’t find out much being a slave, so maybe the other girls are having better luck. Ivy is the spy, and I wonder what dirt she is uncovering, being next to the Queen.

The footman caught up with us on our cleaning spree and ran up to the headmaster. After a few words, the headmaster claps her hands.

“Attention! The House of Galleon has just arrived. Split up into pairs and see to their needs right away!” She points at two girls to my left. “You two go to the queen and the princess immediately.”

~Galleon.~

Apparently, I’m their lost princess.

“Mort,” I whisper as we scurry off to help the royal family.

“Yes?”

“I am assuming Pierce put memories of me in the family of Galleon?”

“Yes, and it’s complicated.”

We pass a couple of guards, and I lower my head, not wanting to draw attention. “How is Laura the princess?”

“She does not have royal blood. The second queen of Galleon had an affair without the king knowing.”

We turn a sharp corner and stop, waiting till the coast is clear. If we are caught talking, I’m assuming there will be hell to pay.

“Go on,” I whisper, impatient.

“Your mother Alexandria had you with the king, Bel De Monte, then she was murdered. She fell off a cliff and it was declared that she committed suicide.

“I do not think that’s what happened, and you can probably guess the same. The king remarried Laura’s mother, Irena. Irena then had an affair with one of the king’s advisers, and I’m not sure which one.

“But Laura does not have royal blood, and I believe whoever disposed of your mother also got rid of you,” Mort whispers quickly, then glances around.

Oh wow.

Is it weird that I feel pain at not knowing my fake mother? Probably because I never had parents of my own.

“I’m placing a bet on Queen Irena, and if I’m right, I am going to bring that bitch down.” How dare that woman kill my fake mother?! And then sell me to the highest bidder, no doubt.

“What did they say happened to me? How old?”

“You were four. Your family picture is still hanging in the Galleon castle.”

“How will they know it’s me?”

I’m so confused at this point.

“Your eye color,” Mort continues, “among other proof, like a DNA test. But you are the only other person to possess snake eyes besides the lost princess of Galleon. Your real name, if it gets to that, is Ursula.”

“Ursula?”

“I picked it out. Pierce let me.”

“That’s the name you picked out?” I ask in horror.

She looks genuinely offended. “It’s a beautiful name!”

“Shhh!” I place my hand over her mouth. “You want people to hear us? Fine, it’s a lovely name.”

We hear voices, then they fade again.

“Is this what happened? Or is this all made up by Fairy Godmother Inc.?”

Mort nods. “Mostly. The real princess of Galleon also possessed snake eyes, weirdly enough, but we cannot use her name because she ended up dying. So, you can avenge her death.

“Irena’s affair led to Laura. Fate works it out somehow to where it does not upset the shift in the universe but benefits it. But everything is pretty dead on.”

“I’m starting to see, sort of.”

No wonder Pierce and Fairy Godmother were giving me weird looks—my ~eye color~.

Mort is typing and blinking now. “The plan of action I came up with is to get Laura’s DNA. Not sure how, maybe off a glass or napkin.”

“They have DNA tests?”

“Of course. Garthorn is very advanced. Just no one ever thought Queen Irena would cheat, leading to an illegitimate child. Or if someone knew, I’m sure they were silenced.”

Mort is still typing. “Update. Pierce just said all players are at Garthorn Castle.”

A wave of panic hits me. “We better leave and go to our duties. That means the House of Mont Gallow just arrived, and the headmaster is probably having a cow!”

***

Another day passes.

I don’t think I have worked so hard in my life.

On my only hour break, I sleep hardcore. My body aches, and my feet are still throbbing from going up flights of stairs for hours. I have not seen Apollo since our time on the ship, just like I feared.

I spotted Cherie from a distance, but I could not say hi, being a slave in all. Must keep our heads down and eyes averted from our betters.

Slaves know our place.

Envy washes through me upon seeing what gown Pierce made for her. It is a dazzling emerald-green with cream lace—a vision.

But she is also on the arm of her soon-to-be-husband. He is a handsome fellow but doesn’t hold a candle to Apollo Augustus Garthorn, the third.

Still, though, she is better off than I am. I feel like all she must do is tell Apollo she dislikes her betrothed and wants out.

Eye roll.

My plight is quite dismal.

“Get up!” Mort yells in my ear.

“No.”

I have no enthusiasm. All hope is lost for me. I just pray someone else gets Apollo over entitled Laura. ~Barf~.

Mort smiles. “We have to go wash up a mess that was made by the royal hounds, mud, and water.”

I barely look at her, wondering if she’s lost her mind as well.

“The mess is right next to the drawing room where Laura is, and I believe Apollo is there with his brothers.”

I jump out of bed so fast I’ve think I upset the gravitational pull of the planet. I must see them out of curiosity, in my defense.

We both power walk toward the main wing of the castle like it’s an Olympic race. It takes us fifteen minutes, but we finally arrive in the main hall.

The hall is gigantic with ceilings so high I can barely see their splendor. People are everywhere, servants and royalty in the massive mix. We keep our heads down as I follow Mort toward the dog mess.

The grand hall thins out and breaks off into two large rooms, the drawing room and the Grand Library.

There are not very many people down this far, and I immediately spot the muddy mess by a back entrance to the royal kitchen. My heart starts to pound when I hear laughter coming from the drawing room.

“Look from over here,” Mort whispers, and jerks her head. “You can see inside.”

I get down on my hands and knees and pretend I’m cleaning along with Mort. ~Don’t mind us, just poor little servants~. I inch forward and slightly turn my long brim bonnet to the left.

That’s when I see Apollo Augustus Garthorn.

I have to say his full name because I don’t know him.

Cue pity party.

But goodness, that man is handsome. He’s finely dressed in an all-black dress coat and tight black pants, showcasing the thick muscle of his thighs. I keep my mouth shut so I don’t drool.

The style is very eighteenth-century Europe but with its own futuristic twist.

Apollo’s sleek boots go up to his knees, and the crisp white shirt is tied together at the neck. The necktie looks like it’s woven from pure gold, matching the undertones of his hair.

He smiles at something, and I realize he is leaning up against a large black piano. The color drains from my face as I hear a lovely opera voice drift out of the room.

“I guess we know what talent Laura requested,” Mort whispers next to me, rolling her eyes.

A beautiful voice.

Her blonde hair is piled up high on her head, and she is wearing a lovely lilac gown. ~Thanks a lot, Pierce,~ ~way to make my life miserable~.

Apollo is watching her, and I can’t see his expression. But I can see that Laura is closing her eyes as she hits a high note, making me want to vomit.

“Her breasts are bigger too,” Mort confirms, to my dismay.

I’m sunk.

“We need a diversion.”

My head whips to look at her. “What?”

Mort looks pissed. “~Ohhhh~. I hate her agent, Leenie.”

I glance back and see the plain maid standing by Laura’s side with a smile on her face.

“At this rate, they both will win.” She gets up and leaves me, disappearing through to the kitchen.

“Mort!” I hiss.

Great.

I start scrubbing the floor in case anyone glances over, my nerves in a jumble.

Minutes later, Mort reappears and throws a piece of meat at me, bits of steak littering my basic gray gown. “What in the hell?!” I stare up at her and frown at her wicked smile.

“Trust me.”

Panic hits me. “No, Mort! Whatever you’re thinking—don’t!”

I suddenly hear dogs. Lots of them.

~Oh, for the love of everything that’s holy.~

It happens so fast I don’t have time to run. Three large and slobbery bloodhounds are trampling me. I scream.

I hear fabric ripping from somewhere on my person, and I make out distant shouts to my left. I cover my head as I’m crushed by hyper and hungry canines.

I feel a sharp pain on my leg, and I gasp in agony.

~Make it stop!~

Mort will pay.

Vengeance will be mine.

I scream again as I suddenly feel myself being lifted and my whole body being thrown off-kilter. Panic rises in my chest as I realize I’m being carried like a sack of potatoes!

I hear a loud male voice yelling something, causing me to tense.

My hair is tangled around my head, preventing me from seeing straight, but I know that voice. My heart leaps to life, and fright sets in.

Seconds later, I’m dumped on something hard, and it’s not until I can get the hair out of my face that my world comes into focus.

Apollo’s face is right in front of mine, and his dark eyes widen when we make contact. The impact of his stare feels like someone took a bat to my head.

I slowly glance around to see that he carried me into the back entrance of the kitchen. I’m sitting on a table, Apollo’s face in line with my chest.

“You,” he accuses. He glances past me to all the kitchen staff, which is frozen in shock by the incident. “Everyone leave, now. Tell someone to fetch the healer.”

Then Apollo leaves!

He leaves me sitting here on the table, and I hear voices talking outside the door. I don’t think my pulse has slowed down even a hint from ramming speed. What am I to do?

My cheeks stain red in embarrassment. I wince, and I try to move off the table right when Apollo returns.

He points at me. “Don’t move.”

I freeze.

He comes to stand right in front of me for several seconds, and then his arms brace on either side of me.

Oh. My. Goodness. He. Is. ~Close.~

I swallow and try to breathe. “Thanks for saving me,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.

His dark gaze glitters as the light catches his eyes. He says nothing as his stare travels down my neck and lowers to my ripped gown. “You’re hurt.”

“Not bad,” I get out, still scared to move.

Apollo’s hands move to my torn dress and yank it open, making me gasp.

My thighs are exposed, and my ugly nylons are ripped. I have a gash on the side of my leg, but I am too focused on my exposed thighs.

I take steady breaths as I watch Apollo stare down at me, his chest rising with a deep breath.

His hand feathers across my knee, then higher to my exposed thigh, causing an army of butterflies to take flight in the pit of my stomach.

“Your skin is soft, perfect,” he says, almost to himself.

~Thank you, Fairy Godmother Inc, for that one.~ I’m very grateful for that at this moment, because my legs do look killer.

He raises his black gaze, and a shiver runs down my spine. “Amnesia, you say? I had my people investigate your situation further, and I can’t find anything. Why is that?”

I shrug and glance away, not being able to hold his stare. “That’s the thing with amnesia. You can’t remember.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, and nods. He looks back down to my legs, and I can see his jaw flex. Then he grabs both of my thighs, making me yelp.

I’m helpless as he spreads my legs and steps in between them, bringing us very close. I can’t breathe. I feel his heat. I can smell the intoxicating scent of him, and it makes me dizzy.

The position is scandalous.

Even for my standards.

But I don’t move. I look up at Apollo and narrow my eyes. “You think you can manhandle me because I am a slave?”

~Atta girl.~

His face mere inches from mine, he says, “Absolutely. But you should already know that from being a slave,” he murmurs back, and shifts his weight, hands tightening on my thighs.

I bite my lip as he leans closer. I feel his breath on my jawline. “Maybe I was not a slave beforehand.”

Apollo laughs. “I think that’s a safe bet.”

“You’re so sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I must ease into this lost princess thing. It’s time to stop acting like a slave and find some courage.

“Then help me find out who I am,” I offer, and force a grin, making Apollo raise a brow. “And you should let go of me. Seeing how we both know what I’m not.”

I jerk my legs and kick him hard in the stomach.

That shocks him, but I can see something in his black gaze as a dark grin spreads over his lips. There is excitement in his eyes, or possibly something equally as alarming.

My heart pounds as he grabs my thighs again, his hands firm.

“Try that again, and I will have you restrained,” he whispers, and leans into me, his mouth right next to my ear. A part of me cannot comprehend that this has turned sexual, the tension crackling.

I feel him grab my hair and pull it back, making my head fall back, exposing my neck. A thrill shoots through me as I feel him pull my hair harder.

His breath is hot, and the slight feel of his lips on my skin unleashes an army of butterflies to take flight.

“I would watch yourself, Angel, because I have the power to make your life a living hell.”

He lifts back from me and walks to the door without a second glance. I’m left here, breathing hard, and a smile spreads over my face.

Mort deserves a medal for this one.

I still have a silly smile on my face as the medical help arrives.

Game changer.