Chapter 9

Citlali's POV

As I got closer, I caught the way a few of them wrinkled their noses. It was subtle—just a tiny grimace, a slight pull of the lips, a quick turn of the head. Mara tried to hide it behind her hand, but I saw it. I always saw it.

The look was brief, barely a flicker, but it hit me like a slap across the face. My steps faltered, and I almost turned around right then. Almost grabbed my bucket and ran, dignity be damned, because at least then I'd still have my pride.

But then Elara reached out and took my hand—her skin soft and clean and warm against my rough, calloused palm—and pulled me toward the tables with a gentleness that made my throat tight.

"Come on," she said, and her voice was almost kind. Almost.

I sat where she indicated, perching on the edge of the bench like a bird ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

They gathered around me, forming a loose circle, and started asking questions. The questions were meaningless, the kind of small talk that people made when they were trying to fill silence, but they asked them like they actually cared about the answers.

I responded in monosyllables at first, each word clipped and defensive, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for the moment when they'd reveal what this really was, what they really wanted, why they were really being nice to the lizard girl who usually got rocks thrown at her.

But the moment didn't come. They just kept talking, kept asking their inane questions.

And then Elara pushed a plate toward me. "Eat," she said simply.

I stared at the plate for a long moment, my hands trembling in my lap. There was meat on it. There was cheese, soft and pale and nothing like the hard, moldy chunks we sometimes got at home. There was bread so fresh I could see steam rising from it when I tore off a piece.

My hand moved almost of its own accord, reaching out, fingers closing around a strip of dried beef. I brought it to my mouth slowly.

It was so damn good.

"Good?" Elara asked, watching me with those bright, unreadable eyes.

I nodded, too busy chewing to speak, and reached for the cheese. Then the bread. Then more meat.

"This is really good," I heard myself say, and was surprised to find I meant it. The words came out muffled around a mouthful of bread, and I swallowed quickly, suddenly self-conscious. "Thank you."

"We should get that wine from Father's cellar," Thomas said suddenly, and I looked up to find him grinning at the others with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, the good stuff he's been saving. He'll never notice if we take just one bottle."

The others laughed and nodded, clearly excited by the prospect of doing something forbidden. Thomas looked at me, and his grin widened. "Want some? It's really good."

I found myself nodding before I'd fully processed the question, my mouth too full to speak properly. Wine. I'd never had wine before.

"Sure," I managed once I'd swallowed, and they all got up together, moving toward the house in a laughing, jostling group.

I stayed at the table, reaching for another piece of bread, my guard finally starting to lower.

I took another bite of bread, closing my eyes to savor the taste.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip, and I jerked my head up so fast my neck popped.

They were all standing there—Elara and Thomas and the twins and all the others—staring at me like I'd just murdered someone right in front of them. The friendliness was gone from their faces, replaced by expressions of shock and outrage and disgust.

Elara's face had transformed completely. The gentle smile, the kind eyes, the soft voice—all of it had vanished like it had never existed at all.

"What?" The word came out muffled around the bread still in my mouth, and I forced myself to swallow, my throat suddenly tight and dry. "I'm eating. Like you said I could. What's wrong?"

"I don't remember inviting you in," Elara said, and her voice was rising now, taking on a shrill, outraged quality that made my stomach clench. "I definitely don't remember saying you could eat our food. You little thief!"

The word hit me like a physical blow. Thief. She'd called me a thief.

Fuck.

They'd planned this. All of it. The invitation, the kindness, the moment of letting my guard down—it had all been a setup, and I'd walked right into it like the desperate, stupid fool I was.

"You said—" I started, scrambling to my feet, but Thomas cut me off.

"We know what we said, thief!" His voice was loud enough to carry, loud enough that I saw curtains twitch in nearby windows, saw faces appear at doors. "You think we'd actually want someone like you eating our food? You think we'd share with a dirty beggar?"

"I'm not a beggar!" The words tore out of me, raw and furious. "You invited me! You said I could eat! You—"

"Liar!" Mara's voice joined the chorus, and then Maekar's, and then all of them were shouting at once, hurling words that hit like stones.

Thief. Liar. Beggar. Lizard girl. Dirty. Filthy. Worthless.

I was shouting back now, my voice getting louder and louder to match theirs, trying to explain, trying to defend myself.

"You're all liars!" I screamed, my voice cracking. "You're disgusting, lying pieces of shit, and I hope you all—"

The slap came out of nowhere.

Elara's palm connected with my cheek with a crack that echoed across the courtyard, and for a second, everything went silent. My head snapped to the side from the force of it, and I tasted blood where I'd bitten my tongue. My cheek burned, hot and stinging, and my eyes watered from the shock of it.

I turned back to look at her slowly, and something in my face must have scared her because she took a step back, her hand still raised, her eyes wide.

Then they were all on me.

Fists and feet and hands, coming from every direction at once.