Chapter 53

At the end of the week, Angela pings me to tell me to meet her in the dining room at the pyramid. It’s a room I haven’t been to yet, wedged between the kitchen and the service entrance to the pyramid. I walk in tentatively and I’m almost scared for what I am walking into.

The room is ornate with gold arches and jewels embedded in them. Red velvet hangs from every corner of the room. In the middle of it, there’s a massive wood table. More than a dozen chairs sit around it. On the end, Angela is perched in a massive red velvet chair that curves over her.

I give her a small wave. She laughs and returns it. I walk across the room to meet her.

“Little different than the warrior gym,” I muse, looking around.

Angela laughs again. She waves around. “No statues of my dad. Are you disappointed?”

I shrug and look down at the table in front of here. There’s like five forks and three spoons and eight knives. My eyes nearly bulge out of my head.

“Are you having a feast?” I say.

“No, no,” Angela says. “We’re working on table manners today. No food just how to consume it.”

I raise my eyebrow. “There’s a proper way to eat?”

“Oh yes,” Angela nods. “There’s a proper way to do everything. Eat. Drink. Dance. The list goes on.”

My eye twitches slightly at the idea of having to do a lesson on how to drink. It completely combats my idea of warriors, gnawing through chicken legs they hold with their hands. I swallow thickly and pull a chair out to sit down. Angela smiles at me.

“Now,” she folds her hands in her lap. “First thing to know when you sit down is your napkin goes on your lap.”

I frown. “Why would you put it in your lap if you need it for your hands?”

“Well because you wipe your hands on your lap,” Angela says. She gently plucks the napkin off of the massive piles of my plates in front of her. She shakes it once to unfold it then gingerly lays it over her thighs.

I try and do the same thing. I don’t feel nearly as graceful as Angela as I shake the napkin a hundred times to get it to unfold. Angela says nothing as I fumble through it. She simply smiles at me and motions back to the setting in front of us.

“Okay so first thing to know is the larger, more round glass is for wine. The smaller is for water,” Angela motions to each of them.

I’m confused again.

“Why can’t you put wine in the small one?” I ask. “Is it the big one so everyone can get drunk?”

Angela laughs. “No, no,” she says. “It’s to aerate the wine.”

I don’t even bother asking what that means. For the next hour, Angela rolls through every part of the mean we’re not having. She tells me which fork to use and makes me hold it so daintily it’ll fall out of my grasp. She then tells me how to scoop soup properly. I’ve about had it when she tells me the fork and knife at exactly five o’clock means I enjoyed my meal.

I rub my temples. “I feel like I’m in the 1700s,” I groan.

“It’s archaic, I’ll agree,” Angela says. “But it’s society.”

“I hate society,” I grumble. “What does this even have to do with becoming a warrior?”

“Warriors are required at all of the Alpha King’s formal events,” Angela says. “Being a good warrior is being good at combat and being a good public figure. You clearly have the combat down. Once you get the society shit down, you’ll be the best warrior ever.”

“Will she?”

The voice sends shivers down my spine. It’s Beau’s voice.

Both Angela and I whip our heads towards the door. Beau is standing at the head of the table, leaning on the chair opposite of Angela. Archer stands next to him, looking enraged as always. Wyatt stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. I almost forgot my asshole step-brother was friends with the twins. I hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“What are you doing here?” Angela says nervously. I shift my gaze back to her. She’s smiling like nothing’s wrong but her eyes are wide and afraid.

“Just coming back from the bar with the boys,” Beau drawls. He starts to walk further down the table. His hair is mused slightly and his eyes are dark. He’s drunk. “What are you up to?”

“I’m helping Chloe,” Angela says.

“To become a warrior?” Beau says. His eyes flash for a second then he turns to me. “Interesting.”

“There’s never been a female warrior,” Archer barks. “I don’t know why the Nanny thinks she’ll be the first.”

My body acts on instinct and I’m out of my chair in a second. I’m on the defensive, glaring at the twins.

“Because I’m good,” I snap.

Beau scoffs. His head rolls lazily off his shoulders. He’s drunk-drunk. “If you weren’t on Archie’s team for paintball, he would’ve had you in a second.”

“Well I wasn’t and he didn’t,” I throw back. “If I recall your team lost. Not mine. Maybe you should abandon your hopes of being a warrior and help me realize mine.”

That lights a fire under Beau. He glares at me standing up straight. His eyes dart back and forth between Angela and me. He was the one who created this little deal. I feel like he’s now pissed about it.

“I told you,” Wyatt sneers from behind the twins. “She has big dreams but no sense of reality. A child trying to become a star.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss at Wyatt. He smiles, maliciously at me. I look back at Beau. He’s watching me with lazy eyes.

“Tell me, Nanny,” he slurs. “Do you know the warrior code?”

I slam my jaw shut. My entire body feels hot. I’ve never heard of the warrior code.

“No?” Beau prods. “I think a prospective warrior would know the code, right Arch?”

“I know the code,” Archer snaps. “Better than I know my own name.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Beau sighs. He looks back at me. “Go on then, Nanny, tell us.”

“She has a name,” Angela chimes in.

“A name nobody knows,” Beau says, sharp. “Because she will never be anything other than a Nanny.”

Wyatt cackles from behind Beau. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s leave the girls to their tea party.”

Beau is still watching me as he leaves after Wyatt. At the last second he looks towards Angela and wiggles his eyebrows. Archer leaves last. He stares at me for a half second too long before shaking his head and walking out.

I have never felt so hopeless, standing in front of a pile of silverware that don’t make sense to me. I turn and look at Angela. She’s fuming.

“Don’t listen to them,” she says. “They’re assholes.”

I nod slowly. I sigh and look back at Angela.

“I better go,” I say. “Duty calls.”

“Chloe—” Angela starts.

“Thank you,” I say “For your help. For this. It was nice.”

Angela smiles sadly at me. I turn and leave the room. I feel a weight on my shoulders as I go to pick Mia up. Forever just a nanny.