Chapter 24

“What are you doing here?” Susan demanded.

“Signing up for the contest, same as you,” I said.

“I meant,” she snapped, “why are you signing up? You don’t belong here.”

She was keeping her voice quiet enough that the judges weren’t paying us much notice, but the other students in line had all turned to watch our argument.

“I belong here as much as you do, Susan. You, or anyone else in the school,” I said.

“Seriously?” she asked. “You’re really going to do this, Yena? You’re going to fit yourself into a winning design and model on a catwalk?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Susan shook her head.

“I’m warning you,” she said, “you compete against me and I will destroy you. I will humiliate you. The way you humiliated me in front of the prince.”

Susan stormed off, red-faced and looking like she might be about to cry.

I should have been mad at her, but I wasn’t. It was hard to take her insults seriously when it looked like she was hurting so much.

Caryn finished up her interview with the judges and passed me on her way out of the auditorium. For once she didn’t call out some passing taunt. She just grinned at me and pranced on by, looking smug as ever.

Finally I took my turn at the judges’ table.

There were five of them. Two were current teachers of mine, and two were other professors I vaguely recognized. One, a skinny and wrinkled woman who looked as though she might be about a hundred years old, was a total stranger to me.

I stood in front of the table.

None of them introduced themselves.

“Hello,” I said, “my name is Yena. I’m prepared to enter the contest and have all my drawings and samples ready.”

I held my portfolio out to the man seated at the center of the table. It was Professor Waylon, my History of Fashion teacher. He peered down at it through little half-moon glasses perched at the tip of his long nose.

I stood in awkward silence, waiting for the judges’ questions.

They exchanged some odd looks amongst themselves.

Finally, the wrinkly old woman, seated at the far end of the table, said, “Miss Yena. You are, in fact, a member of the Lycan royal family, correct?”

“That’s correct, yes,” I responded. “But I’m also a student here, and I’d prefer you all treat me just the same as any other student. And I’m fully prepared to give all my attention to this competition, believe me, my other responsibilities— ”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” the old woman said, cutting me off. “I only wonder if you have considered that the show will be open to the public. And you do know that each competing designer has to participate in the show, modeling one of his or her own designs, do you not?”

Internally I laughed a little. I almost wanted to thank Susan for prepping me for this question.

“Yes, I’m quite aware,” I said. “That will be no problem.”

The woman took her glasses off and put one of the earpieces in her mouth, and started chewing on it absently. She squinted at me, making her eyes all but disappear into the crinkly folds of her face.

“Alright,” she said slowly. “And are you also aware that in the world of fashion, models are expected to be tall and thin?”

I nodded.

“There are also plus-size models now,” I said, “and that’s the body type I design for. If you take a look at my portfolio, you’ll see what I plan to create for the show.”

“And are you prepared,” the woman continued, unfazed by my response, “to receive the judges’ public critique of your designs after your performance as well? Sometimes, the feedback can be quite scathing.”

“I am prepared,” I said. “More than prepared.”

The woman pursed her thin lips, then whispered to the professor seated beside her. All five of them took turns glancing at my portfolio, eyeing me suspiciously, and shrugging at each other.

Then, finally, they gave me the form to sign. And I was officially in the game.

NOLAN

The glass elevator door rolled open and Nolan stepped out into his mother’s parlor.

She was nowhere to be seen. He wandered over to a gold and marble bar cart, took a bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket, grabbed a glass and went to sit at the white couch beside the queen’s chair.

The queen appeared from behind him just as he was just pulling the cork out of the bottle with a loud POP!

“You cannot be trusted alone with my wine for one minute, can you?” she asked.

“Mother,” Nolan said, standing to offer her a small, polite bow.

“How are you, my son?” she asked, her tone a little bored already.

“I’m worried, Mother,” he said. “About Adan.”

Luna sat comfortably into her chair, which was draped with white furs. She snapped her fingers, and suddenly a servant appeared with a champagne flute. The girl filled the queen’s glass, passed it to her while bowing, then disappeared.

Luna watched the champagne bubbles as they fizzled up to the rim of the glass then receded.

“I have been worrying about Adan for the past ten years,” she said.

She sniffed the wine and said, “Mmm,” then took a sip.

“Is there something in particular that is troubling you, my son?” she asked, finally looking Nolan in the eye. “Something you have learned about Adan’s plans or movements?”

He nodded in the affirmative.

But then he paused, thinking. He was tempted to tell his mother about the photo of Adan in the human tavern. The rumor that Adan had been murdered.

But he did not know the significance of that strange bit of evidence yet. He needed to figure out what it meant first, before he could tell her or anyone else about it.

“He is teaching,” the prince said, “at the Noble Academy, where Yena goes to school.”

The queen raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Teaching,” she said, gazing out the window with a contemplative expression. “Sounds like an good occupation for an arrogant egomaniac who loves listening to his own voice.”

Nolan could not help but chuckle. “True,” he said with a smile. “But my concern is that he may be using this position to try to get close to the princess.”

Luna drained her wine glass and shifted in her hair. She held the empty flute out to her side and a servant appeared, silently, with a fresh bottle.

“Well,” the queen said, once again watching closely as her glass was filled and the champagne bubbles ran their course up and down the sides of the vessel. “It sounds to me like you have nothing to worry about. As long as you trust your wife.”

Something about this response was unsettling to Nolan.

“You’re right,” he said. “I am sure there is nothing to worry about. I just wanted to let you know what I had learned about his activity.”

The queen nodded, looking disinterested.

“Our people have their ears to the ground,” she said. “You will be the first to know if there are any whispers of an active uprising. For now, just focus your attention on keeping that new bride of yours happy.”

Nolan helped himself to one last glass of champagne, then made an excuse and took his leave. He rode the elevator down from the queen’s quarters, feeling a little queasy.

And wondering if there was something his mother was hiding.