Page 11 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Harriet, you—!” Jas presses her lips together when our father looks at her sharply.

“Your mother is correct,” Dad says. “You do need to get control of your emotions.”

She shrinks back even further, and Rosalyn sighs.

“And you,” he says to me. “Stop provoking your sister.”

“I’m hardly provoking her,” I reply. “Provocation implies I started it. I merely responded to something she said. You should be grateful I remember my intensive etiquette education from when I was a child. Did you not offer Jasmine the same thing?” I tilt my head to the side. “There’s no way Lady Christiansen would have allowed seven-year-old me to get away with such outbursts, never mind saying I’d tell Crown Prince Finley what to do. I was only trying to help her.”

If looks could kill, Rosalyn would be on the hook for my murder right about now.

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder with a heavy exhale. “I know. Just… apologise to your sister for upsetting her.”

I almost laugh.

Of course.

God forbid Jasmine get corrected.

“I’m sorry that you’re upset by my words,” I say, injecting as much sincerity as physically possible. “I really was only trying to help.”

With no choice other than to accept my bullshit apology, she clenches her jaw and forces a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she grinds out, hatred flowing from her.

Oh, good.

I’ve ruined her day.

Mine is now exponentially better than it would have been otherwise.

“Happy?” I say to our father and bite into my croissant.

The look on his face says he’s not, but there’s nothing he can do about it. I did apologise, after all. It wasn’t the apology he wanted, but he really should have been more specific if he wanted me to apologise exactly how he had it in his mind.

He sighs, then nods. “Do you have work today?”

“Mm. I have a couple of studio sessions in Greenwood Bay today and tomorrow, so I’ll probably just book a hotel room tonight to save getting the train back.”

Another slow nod. “Very well. Just call if that’s the case so we don’t worry.”

There’s absolutely zero chance of anyone worrying about me, but I agree all the same. After offering a shit-eatingly sweet goodbye to Rosalyn and Jasmine, I kiss my father’s cheek again and head to my room to get all my things.

A whole day’s work and I’ve gotten out of coming back to this hellhole tonight.

It really is a good day.

***

Not every photo session goes off perfectly.

Babies poop and explode it everywhere, including over props. They spit up—some even projectile vomit, sending their breakfast shooting over everything in its path.

Which has been known to include me.

It’s also the sole reason I always take a change of clothes with me to every little baby shoot. You just never know.

Still, there’s something so charming about little newborns. They’re just so… pliable. So easy to coax and manipulate into the cutest little poses, and the best part? They don’t complain. They can’t complain. They can’t speak.

They can just snuffle.