Page 4 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Can’t we send her away until I’ve married Prince Finley?”

I barely manage to choke back my laugh as I walk into the kitchen. “That’s a little extreme, Jasmine, don’t you think?”

They both turn to glare at me, but I ignore them as I head for the fridge to collect the iced matcha latte the housekeeper leaves for me every morning.

“Harriet, I swear to God—”

“You don’t need to go that far, Rosalyn dearest,” I say dryly. “I don’t want to be Crown Princess, so you can stop all your make-believe dramas, Jas.” I look at her, closing the fridge behind me. “You don’t need to send me away just because you seem to think I’m hellbent on ruining your life. I couldn’t care less what you do or who you marry.”

My sister stared at me through cold blue eyes. “You’d better not. Don’t go anywhere near the palace.”

“As if I have any business anywhere near the Royal Palace. They’d take one look at me and send me away, especially when I introduce myself as Hannah Porter. I’m a nobody.”

Rosalyn nodded. “You see, darling? Harriet isn’t interested in what you have. She knows she couldn’t deal with such a high-profile role.”

That’s not it, but sure. Whatever helps the treacherous bat sleep at night.

“I just—” Jas starts.

“Think you’re far more important to me than you actually are,” I finish for her, plucking a chocolate croissant from the basket on the kitchen table. “If I wanted to be the Crown Princess, don’t you think I’d have claimed it myself already? It was my engagement to begin with and still would be if I hadn’t gone missing twenty years ago.”

A chill runs through the room, and Jas’ shoulders tense at my reminder. There’s nothing she hates more than when I bring up the fact that I’m the eldest, the legitimate daughter, the one who should be engaged to Prince Finley right now.

That she’d be nothing but a mistress’ secret daughter if not for her mother’s machinations.

As far as I’m concerned, that’s all she is.

All she’ll ever be.

And unfortunately for her, there’s nothing I love more than reminding her of all that.

“Harriet, you’re going too far,” Rosalyn warns me.

“Am I?” I raise my eyebrows, looking down at her. “For all the shit you’ve thrown my way since Dad brought me back, I think you should be more careful in case I change my mind, especially this close to your precious daughter’s big announcement.”

“You—” Rosalyn clenches her jaw, and her hand forms a fist in front of her on the table. “Don’t push it. The only reason you’re still here is because of our deal.”

“Yes, yes.” I wave her off, stepping away from the table. “If I sit tight and don’t tell Dad about all the times you’ve forced me to do things, including taking the blame for the time Jas crashed her car, you’ll make sure I have a suitable marriage after she marries into the Royal Family.”

She nods. “Don’t forget it, either. We’ll claim you, but only once our family’s future is secured.”

‘We’ll claim you,’ she says, as if she has any right to claim or deny my parentage.

As if she’s my mother.

As if the seat she sits in now isn’t bathed with my mother’s blood.

God, she makes me want to poke my eyes out with this glass straw.

“Can’t wait,” I say snarkily, raising my matcha latte in her direction. “Make sure you throw a party that day so we can all get drunk and pretend we’re happy about it.”

“Harriet!” Jas gets to her feet, slamming her hands against the table. “Must you be so rude? Do you know how hard it was for my mother to accept you back into this family?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it was hard.”

Because she thought I was dead.

I head for the kitchen door, stop, and look back at their outraged faces. “But I think you’ve already made your feelings about me perfectly clear, and I’ve more than paid my dues for the perceived sin of my existence. If you want me to continue behaving myself, I suggest you two start doing the same.”