Page 31 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
Amalli must’ve noticed her observing the uniform and patted her back. “You, Red Riding Hood, are to help me serve the wolves.”
Sterling pressed her lips into a tight line as she imagined the wolves telling her to bring them this and that. But she slowly nodded. “Of course.”
“You’re more obedient than I expected,” Amalli said while handing the simple deep blue tweed dress to Sterling. “It’s because of the boy in the cellar, isn’t it?”
Sterling stilled. “You’ve seen him?”
Amalli unfolded the pleated white apron. “Sweet little thing. You, not so much. You killed my closest friend.” Her gaze turned stern but not altogether hateful.
“And you’re not treating me awfully? Calling me a cunt or a bitch?” Micah had made sure to call her a name at everyencounter, despite him being the one to scar her and deal the final blow that killed her grandmother.
Amalli stepped forward and ran her callused finger over Sterling’s marred flesh. “We all have our scars, don’t we? History in our court hasn’t ever truly been pretty. The humans had it well, then they didn’t and the wolves did… Most of us want peace with humans. Now dress.”
Sterling took a deep swallow and let her towel drop to the floor to pull the dress over her head. She slipped her arms through the apron’s sleeves and Amalli tied the back of it. The brown leather boots were a size too small when she shoved them on, but she didn’t complain about their tightness.
Amalli led her down the stairs and into the kitchen where two other male servants were pouring steaming stew into porcelain bowls. The savory smell made Sterling’s mouth water, and Amalli pointed to a plate with bread and jerky beside a drinking glass on the counter. “Eat, then we serve.”
Sterling bit into the bread, not caring that it was too stale and the jerky too chewy. She quenched her thirst by swallowing the water in only a few gulps.
Amalli cleared her throat and pointed to the bowls of stew for Sterling to pick up her pace. As Sterling collected two bowls, she wondered what meals Cyan was being served. Was he telling them that he didn’t eat meat? If that was all he was being offered, she hoped he was forcing himself to consume it.
Sterling entered the dining room where a variety of antlers hung on the walls, and an ornate wooden table took up half the space. Of the twelve seats, eleven were taken by three female wolves and eight males. Winter sat at one of the table’s heads and Micah beside him.
“There’s the cunt,” Micah sniggered when she set the bowl a little too roughly in front of him, but none of the liquid sloshed over the sides.
The prince didn’t give her the time of day as she rested the other one before him. She continued to bring out the bowls, followed by jeweled copper goblets, then finally a bottle of wine. The wolves taunted her as she filled their glasses.
“I see why she concealed her face with a hood.” One chuckled.
“I’ll add another scar to the bitch,” a woman hissed.
Sterling held her tongue and approached the prince, his goblet the last to be filled. After she finished pouring, Winter snatched her wrist. With his free hand, he dipped his thumb and two fingers into his stew, then plucked out a plump piece of meat.
“Kneel for me, Red Riding Hood,” he cooed. “Open your mouth, so you can taste one of your own. Perhaps it’s from one of your kills.”
Sterling’s eyes widened as she peered across the table from face to face, realizingwhatwas inside the stew. They were eating the meat of the dead. Horror coursed through her, and her eyes widened.
“What?” Micah purred. “Do you not eat the meat from the animals you slaughter?”
“No, I’ve never once eaten awolf, but I do recall you eating my fucking grandmother,” she spat.
The table fell silent, and Winter’s thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. “Eat if you want to play in the next game,” he drawled.
Sterling heard the threat. If she didn’t play in the next game, then that meant her brother wouldn’t be set free. Narrowing her eyes, she set the wine bottle on the table and knelt before him. Unclenching her teeth, she parted her lips for him.
“On all fours.” He smirked.
Nostrils flaring, she pressed her palms to the wooden floor and tilted her chin up, even though she was being shamed in front of everyone. Winter trailed a warm finger across her lowerlip, allowing the juice to brush her tongue. Nausea thrummed in her stomach as he placed the meat inside her mouth, and she slowly chewed. Her eyes narrowed further—she knew her meat, more than well. This wasboar.
“Now, sit in the corner and be a good girl until I need more wine.” Prince Winter grinned at her, his dimples burying themselves in his cheeks, and the table roared with laughter.
Sterling’s blood boiled, her cheeks heating as she sank down in a corner. Her loathing gaze remained on the prince. He’d beensomewhatnice the prior night by carrying her to his room and stitching her up, rather than letting her bleed out. But perhaps it was all so she wouldn’t die just yet, to continue to be his spectacle. Still, Winter watched her every time he lifted his goblet to drink, his expression unreadable.
“Come on,” Amalli said after the wolves left the table to go hunt. “It’s time to clear the table, then we have to get you back to your cage.”
Sterling wordlessly helped Amalli put the dishes in the kitchen for the other two servants to clean before accompanying her to the prince’s room. Exhaustion swept over her, her wound aching once more.
Two brown objects inside Sterling’s cage caught her eye. A brown silken pillow and a furred blanket.
