Page 44 of A Reign of Malice
“Or,” Isla says, her grin wide, “we let our mates overthrow Aeson and call it a day.”
Estee snorts. “You just want to avoid Aurora.”
“Damn right I do.”
Their banter has me smiling, reminding me of my relationship with Clara, and for a moment, I let myself miss her. She would love to be here for this, but I can’t risk her not being in her room tonight and Aeson finding out.
Estee’s gaze sharpens again, her mischievous grinreturning. “You know, this whole ‘bachelorette party’ excuse was just supposed to get you away from Aeson, but since we’re here…” She stretches, wiggling her fingers. “How much alcohol do you have, and have you ever played ‘Never Have I Ever’?” She barks out a deep laugh. “That’s a silly question. Of course you haven’t, but we’re going to teach you, and you’ll thank us later.”
Something tells me that isn’t likely to happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SLOANE
Idon’t know what time it is, but all sense of caring went out the window about ten shots ago. Estee, Isla, and I creep into the hallway. Well, we attempt to. What we’re really doing is giggling our asses off for no apparent reason, pretending we’re being super sneaky while failing miserably.
“I have to pee,” Isla whisper-yells, swaying slightly as she grips the wall for balance.
I point dramatically at a decorative vase overflowing with flowers. “Lift a leg. No one will even notice.”
Estee collapses onto the floor, gasping for air, her hands clutching her stomach. There’s barely any actual sound coming from her, which only makes it funnier. Either she’s trying to be silent, or she’s literally choking on my comedic brilliance. Both options are equally plausible.
Somehow, I end up sprawled next to her, laughing so hard my ribs ache, and tears blur my vision. It only gets better when Isla actually gathers the hem of her dress, crouching as if she’s really about to water the poor flowers.
“What the hell are the three of you doing?” Clara’s pointed voice cuts through the drunken haze, a shrill beaconof disapproval. Her footsteps echo down the hallway. “I leave you alone for one night, and you turn into feral pups. Gods, what a mess.”
“Someone’s in trouble,” Estee whisper-shouts at me, her wide eyes far too innocent to be believable.
“You’reallin trouble,” Clara corrects, marching straight to me, wrapping an arm around my waist, and hauling me upright. “You need to get back to your room before someone—anyone—sees this disaster.”
I shake my head vigorously, like a petulant child, and step away from her. “Nooo. I have to show my new besties how I spirit-walk!”
“How youwhat?” Clara’s nostrils flare. “You’re useless right now. All of you. Completely useless and drunk off your asses.” She turns to Isla, crossing her arms so tight I’m surprised her ribs don’t snap. “At least I don’t have to clean that up.”
Isla turns around and waves her hand over the puddle of pee she’s left behind then grins back at Clara. “Clean what up? There’s nothing to see here. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Estee and I snicker, the puddle behind Isla still clear as day.
“Right.” Clara reaches for me. “Let’s get you three disasters to bed before you start a war or burn the castle down.”
But I dodge her hand and do my best to run a few feet ahead. “I’m going to see my maaaate.”
The announcement echoes loudly, full of drunken conviction and zero sense of self-preservation. My ability to stay balanced, however, is nowhere to be found. My feet betray me, and the floor comes rushing up, my skirt tangling around my legs as my crown tilts sideways.
Before I can even process the impact, Estee launches herself on top of me with a wild shriek. “I’ve got you, Beastie!”
“Don’t forget me!” Isla war-cries then, as expected, lands directly on top of us, sending all three of us into a tangled pile of limbs and drunken giggles.
Clara stands over us, foot tapping with enough force to chip the stone floor. “You’re all going to regret this in the morning.”
I grin up at her, eyes heavy with mischief. “Not if I sleep until noon.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Impossible. Absolutely impossible.”
We clumsily untangle ourselves, a process that takes far longer than it should, but eventually, we manage to find our feet again. Mostly.
“Come on, Clara,” I croon, stretching her name out into a slurred song. “Come with us. Have some fun.”
