Chapter 6 Chapter 006

ELORA'S POV

"Trying to run away?" I froze; my hand immediately went to my chest as the voice came from behind me. For one terrifying second, I thought it was Mrs. Harlow. I slowly turned around, only to find that annoying girl. Freya stood several steps away, her arms folded across her chest, while a smug grimace spread across her face. Of course, it had to be my bad luck, because I don't know why, from all the annoying fellows in this foster home I had to bump into, it had to be this demon. If every single girl in this foster home hated me, I could blame most of it on her. Freya and I were the same age, but that was where our similarities ended. She was everything people noticed; she was beautiful, confident, intelligent, always perfectly dressed, even in the ugly uniforms Mrs. Harlow forced us to wear, while I was the opposite of all of it. I couldn’t even read a single word. And Freya, she knew exactly how much everyone admired her. For as long as I could remember, Freya had made it her personal mission to remind me that I was beneath her, that she was better off than me, and I will admit she is. "Oops!" She hummed, "I guess you were sneaking in." I didn't answer; I pushed the door lock. "Are you sneaking in?" She asked, walking toward me. I said nothing; I just kept moving. "I asked you a question."

"And I don't; answered to you." I stepped past her and she wrinkled her nose.

"Yuck!" I stopped. "Did you bathe in dirt?" I glanced down at myself; mud covered my clothes, my boots, and probably half of my face. I had been too distracted to notice it. "You smell awful," Freya added. What do I care? Even when I just got out of the shower, she thinks I smell awful, so I didn't say a word. I ignored her and continued walking toward my room, the one I shared with three other girls. "Oh my Gosh!" Her voice echoed through the hallway; I stopped, wondering what she was up to again. "Did you actually get knocked into the mud?" I turned around slowly.

"What are you talking about?" She laughed harder.

"You really did!"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh please, I know what you did." My eyes bulged; I stopped in my tracks but didn't dare to look at her.

"I did nothing." She laughed more.

"Of course, you did something." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "I thought you were smart; now I know you are just an idiot, like your stupid face." I narrowed my eyes.

"What do you mean?" I mustered the courage to ask, and her smile became knowing.

"I can't believe you will act on what that stupid girl is blabbering about." My brows furrow

"What stupid girl?" She parted her lips, but before she could answer, the early morning bell rang through the foster home. The sound meant a whole lot of things, everyone had to get out of bed, wash, get dressed up, hurry downstairs before Mrs. Harlow came looking for us, then sit in front of a table with rows of chairs, confessing all the bad things you did, like she is the gods who washed away sins and she thinks this stuff that doesn't make sense is a morning routine. Freya clicked her tongue.

"You're lucky." I frown.

"Lucky?" Because I know that word; when she used it, it meant the opposite, not something good. She simply smiled.

"You will find out soon." Then she walked away. I didn't stop her; I just watched her disappear around the corner. Something about her words bothered me, but I didn't have time to think about it. I hurried into my room, grabbed my towel and soap, and rushed toward the bathroom. I needed to get the mud off me before Mrs. Harlow saw me. The water was cold as usual; if I wasn't a witch, I would have frozen from all the cold water these demons give me, saying there was not enough coal for a fire. I scrubbed my arms, my legs, my hair, and every other part of me until the filth finally disappeared down the drain. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on washing, my mind kept drifting back to the stranger, those eyes of his; I wished I knew his name. I remember the way he looked at me, the way he had pulled me against his chest when danger approached, the way he had tapped the bridge of my nose and told me to stop daydreaming, and then his lips against mine, his hand all over my body, and then the way he thrust himself in and out of me. "Gods!" I blushed, as those memories flooded. I lifted my head. "Why was I thinking about him again?" I ducked my head beneath the water.

"Elora?" I looked up when one of the older girls pulled the door.

"Hey!" I quickly grabbed my towel. "You know you could have just knocked instead of pulling the door!" The girl chuckled

"What is there to hide?" She looked up and down at me. "It's not like you have a great body like Freya." Laughter erupted behind the girl; anger rose in my chest. Of course, it always had to be Freya. It didn't matter what I did; someone always found a way to compare me with her. Don't they get tired of it? I already know Freya is beautiful and I am not. I didn't say anything; I simply wrapped my towel tightly around myself. I had learned a long time ago that defending myself only gave them more reason to laugh, and today I was in a good mood; I didn't want them to spoil it for me.

"Maybe one of the dragon princes will notice Freya at the feast," another girl said. Hmm! So Freya is entering the feast. I said mentally

"One of them will probably choose her; I just hope she got the third prince. Freya really loves him." Another said; I almost rolled my eyes. She even had a choice.

"Of course, he would." Another added, "Look at her; she is beautiful. No doubt she would be the first one they would pick." I tightened my grip on my towel, then one girl snorted.

"I wondered why Mr. Martin Harlow added Elora, no one would even pick her. She would never stand a chance." I finally looked at them.

"Stupid!" I shouted as I walked out, and they burst into laughter. As usual, their laughter followed me down the hallway. By the time I reached the dining room, everyone was already seated. The smell of breakfast filled the room, or should I say, whatever Mrs. Harlow considered breakfast. A watery bowl of porridge sat in front of each person. I sighed, staring at the food. Another poor meal. I sat down quietly while my stomach growled. I can't say it was anger or something else. I picked up my spoon, then the doors opened. Mrs. Harlow entered first, while Mr. Harlow followed behind her. Immediately, they entered the room; silence filled it. Mr. Harlow stood at the front of everyone.

"Attention, everyone." Nobody moved; their eyes focused on Mr. Harlow. "We have some good news." My brows furrowed; there was nothing good that ever came out of Mr. Martin Harlow's mouth. His words were always as ugly as his face. He smiled, then continued, "This year, we are grateful that our foster home will be able to participate in the Obsidian Feast." The room erupted in excited whispers, while my stomach dropped. I can't believe they were all excited about this, like they had no idea the dragons are monsters; maybe they just love the idea of being the mate of a prince. I lowered my spoon slowly, even though I heard it from the girls, I wanted to be sure that the girls at the foster home weren't lying "But this year, we have three participants," I felt sick as the words left his lips, and I knew I was one of the three people, "They are Elora, Freya..." Mr. Harlow looked toward the far end of the table. "And..." Before he could take the name of the last girl, my voice came up.

"What if I don't want to?" The words escaped me before I could stop them; every head turned toward me, and Mr. Harlow's smile disappeared.

"Elora, you will not interrupt me while I am talking." He warned, wanting to continue, "as I was saying..."

"I said what if I don't want to go?" My voice came up again; the dining room became painfully quiet. All eyes turned to me. I could already feel Freya staring at me. Mr. Harlow's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply to me; he didn't even call for my punishment. Today felt strange as well; instead, he simply continued as though I hadn't spoken.

"You will all be expected to be on your best behavior; it's not every day a girl of your age gets the opportunity to stand before the royals." My fingers curled around my spoon; how inconvenient for them to act like this was an honor, not a trap. "The obsidian feast is an honor," I scoffed inwardly; honor, that's what they call it. But I knew better, and everyone knew better, that the dragons called it a celebration when it's a nightmare for the poor. Mr. Harlow's voice became colder. "And I want to make something very clear," he looked directly at me, "anyone who is found to have violated the requirements before the feast will face the consequences." My throat tightened; even though I already heard the girls say the person would be disqualified. Again, I was curious; perhaps I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth. He paused, his eyes dragged lazily away from me. "Not being a virgin carries a penalty."

Penalty? The words echoed in my mind; my fingers tightened on the spoon. I swallowed hard, then forced my voice to sound normal. "What is the penalty?"