Page 144 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Of course not.” Her smile is as sharp and insincere as her gaze. “This is your home, too, after all.”

I glance around the foyer at all the photos that don’t include me. “Allegedly.”

Dad clears his throat. “Come and sit down in the dining room. Dinner will be ready soon. We have a few things to talk about.”

I bet we do.

More like he wants to talk while I’m forced to listen to him.

Still, I follow him into the dining room. A tight, uncomfortable air settles around us as Rosalyn takes up the rear, and it’s an atmosphere that only darkens when Jasmine looks up from her phone and sees me.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” I reply, ignoring the sharp edge to her voice. “I’m here for dinner. This is my home, too, apparently.”

Dad shoots me a confused look. No wonder—I’ve never spoken to her like this in front of him. He’s used to me being demure and subservient, not snarky and biting.

Boy, is he in for a fun night.

I no longer need to hold back.

I no longer need to pretend to be the good little daughter he thinks I am.

Well, he thought I was. I’m pretty sure I wrecked that little fantasy when I walked out on Finn’s arm.

Dad sits at the head of the table, and I take the chair next to him on the opposite side of the table to Jasmine. Rosalyn sits immediately across from me, eyeing me carefully as she makes herself comfortable.

“So,” Dad says, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “How have you been? Have you settled in well at the palace?”

“Yes, I have,” I reply softly. “Everyone has been exceptionally kind to me, especially Her Majesty. I’m very grateful to everyone for making the transition as easy as possible.”

“Good. That’s good.” He pauses. “And your… relationship… with Crown Prince Finley? It’s good?”

“Very much so.” I smile, tucking some of my hair behind my ear in a shy way I know will piss Jasmine off immensely. “He’s been wonderful.”

“I’m sure. He’s an impressive young man. A real credit to our country.” He pauses again, and I’m sure he’s carefully considering his next words. “What about the wedding? Has Her Majesty discussed anything with you?”

Rosalyn clears her throat and nods towards the door. The scent of roast chicken fills the room as the plates are brought in, and I do as she wishes by keeping quiet while the food is served.

It’s an answer she doesn’t want to hear.

Everything is quietly laid out before us, but the moment we’re left alone, Rosalyn says, “Let’s eat before we talk. It’s always easier on a full stomach.”

And just like that, the conversation about the wedding is over before it’s even begun.

Exactly as I expected.

Still, I behave. I acknowledge her words with a smile and start eating, following my father’s lead. He’ll never stand up to her, and it’s long past time for me to accept that.

It’s not the only thing I need to accept.

I’m not truly a part of this family.

I never have been.

I merely share some DNA with two of the people sitting at this table, and DNA does not make a family.

In the past few weeks since the engagement was decided, I’ve been reminded of what family really is. Of the love, care, and support that should go hand in hand with it—something I’ve never been offered in this house.