SAMANTHA
The whole trouble at my table drew the attention of everyone.
Their eyes shifted toward me from every corner of the dining hall. Some looked curious. Some looked amused but most of them—most of them looked at me with something darker. Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction, as if they anticipated watching me squirm.
They really wanted to see me flustered. They wanted tears. They wanted a breakdown. They wanted proof that I was weak, that I would break, that I did not belong here.
I refused to give them the pleasure.
I could feel my heart pounding. I could feel my hands shaking beneath the table. But I kept my face calm.
"I can see everyone is on their high horse," I replied with a smile and a casual tone. I looked around the room, meeting as many eyes as I could. "Well, good luck to you."
My calmness made Leslie angry.
I saw it happen. Her face flushed and her jaw tightened. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She had wanted a reaction. She had wanted me to cry or beg or run....and I had given her nothing.
So she snapped.
"You evil tramp!" Her voice rose high and sharp. "What do you think you are feeling like? Some kind of queen? You are nothing but an idiot who keeps throwing herself at the triplets. You are just a weak she-wolf. A pathetic, scentless, useless—"
I did not let her finish.
I picked up my plate. The one with the remaining food—the gravy, the scraps, the cold meat and Istood up. I dumped everything on her head.
Leslie shrieked.
The sound was satisfying. High-pitched. The kind of scream that came from real shock, not performance.
Grease dripped down her perfect blonde hair. A piece of meat slid down her cheek. Soup soaked into her tight red dress. She looked like a nightmare. She smelled like leftovers.
"What are you doing to me?" she screamed. "Witch! You crazy witch!"
"Fair play." I tossed the plate aside. It clattered on the floor. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at her with no emotion. "Do you not like it? It seemed like you wanted to share your food with me earlier. I am just returning the favor."
Leslie's mouth opened and closed. No words came out.
I leaned in slightly. My voice dropped low enough that only she could hear.
"I do not care what is going on in your head. Make me angry again, and I swear to the Moon Goddess, you will regret it. That is a promise."
"You crazy idiot!" Leslie spat. Her anger was very serious now. Her whole body trembled. Soup and leftovers continued to drop from her hair down her clothes. She smelled like grease and looked utterly pitiful. "I will make sure I throw you out like a rogue. You hear me? You will be nothing. Less than nothing."
"We will see about that," I sneered. My voice became harsh. Cold. I did not recognize myself. "We will see who gets thrown out first."
I had to be a monster to live amongst monsters. That was the lesson this place kept teaching me. Kindness was weakness. Softness was death. The only language these women understood was force.
Refusing to give Leslie any more attention, I turned on my heel and left the dining table. I did not want to hear her rant again. I did not want to see her ugly face.
As I walked away, I noticed the faces of the other women.
Some of them smiled--Ecited smiles. Expectant smiles. Those were the ones Leslie had bullied before. She had been a thorn in their flesh too. And watching her get humiliated was like watching justice served.
But other women looked at me differently. Their eyes were cold and calculating. They looked at me like I was competition.
I thought we were all slaves in the eyes of the triplets. I thought we were all here for the same purpose—to bear children, to earn money, to serve. There was no need for them to be angry about the princes or pregnancy. We would all have our turns eventually.
But these women did not see it that way.
Stupid idiots.
I became their target whether I wanted to be or not. But I was not naive anymore. I had prepared myself for the dangers that lay ahead. I had learned from Daisy, Molly and Jayce.
I would not break.
After lunch, I entered my room. I lay down on the hard bed. I closed my eyes. I gathered my strength. I knew that I had to be ready for whatever trouble would find me next.
And trouble always found me.
*****
The next day came and we were gathered again in the early morning. The sun had barely risen. I changed into workout clothes—leggings, a loose tank top, good sneakers. Practical clothes. Clothes that would let me move.
I went to the training room.
The moment I walked in, laughter erupted.
Girls mocked me from all aroun.
"Look at her," someone muttered. "What is she wearing? Does she think she is going to war?"
"Those clothes are so ugly," another whispered loudly. "Does she own a mirror?"
"She looks like a man. A homeless man."
"Maybe she does not own anything else. Poor thing."
"Poor and stupid. A dangerous combination."
I kept my face neutral.
I was confused. How was I supposed to dress? No one had told me anything. No one had given me instructions. I had simply worn what I had. And we were training. Right?
It was not until I entered the inner room that I understood.
My feet stopped and my mouth dropped open.
The room was filled with sex toys.
They were everywhere. On shelves, on tables and on the floor in organized rows. Things I did not have names for. Things I did not want to have names for. Leather straps. Silicone shapes. Butt plus, Vibrators and even pladtic men with 16-inch penises.
My vagina tightened at the sight of that. Who was going to hop on that?
And every other woman in the room was dressed in provocative wear.
From bikinis, two-pieces, lingerie, lace and silk and straps that revealed more skin than they covered. Their bodies were on display--painted, polished and perfumed.
In my sportswear, I stood out like a vampire amongst humans.
I felt shame. Hot and prickly, crawling up my neck to my cheeks. I felt embarrassment so deep I wanted to disappear. I tried to hide in the crowd. I moved toward the back. Toward the shadows. Toward anywhere that was not the center of attention.
But Leslie saw me.
Of course she saw me.
She strode over. Her hips swaying. Her body was barely covered by a crimson bikini that left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was perfect again. Her makeup was flawless. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover.
I looked like I belonged in a gym.
Leslie stopped in front of me. Her eyes were filled with disdain. She thrust out her chest and sneered.
"Look at you," she said loudly. "You look so stupid. So ridiculous. Do you think we came here to fight kung fu?"