Chapter 115: Taylor Swift - Blank Space
Luna shrugged, gesturing vaguely with her fingers as if Seliora’s entire existence was an unfortunate background noise. "I mean, the screaming, the entitlement, the rod up your ass—it’s just... a lot for an early morning. Perhaps you should lie down."
"How dare you!" Seliora hissed.
Luna tilted her head, her voice honeyed and lethal. "Dear, you’re barely the concubine. You’re an accessory. If you want to be respected, you might try acting like you were raised around actual nobility and not in a treehouse made of spite."
"I’ll report this," she snapped.
"Do," Luna said brightly, leaning back as the pedicurist resumed work on her toes.
The attendant shuffled toward Luna. Her steps were small. Her hands were nervously clasped before her, voice quivering as she said, "Princess... I—I’m afraid you must leave."
The pampered serenity of the salon vanished in an instant. "Why," she asked, "do I have to leave?"
The poor attendant swallowed. "W-Well," she began, wringing her fingers, "She... um... she carries the heir to the throne, and by royal protocol, we are bound by law to ensure she is... properly taken care of."
What heir to the throne? If there truly was an heir, wouldn’t it have been announced formally at court?
"You have got to be kidding me." She snapped her feet from the water bowl, splashing droplets across the floor, and slipped on her sandals.
She rose to her full height, spine straight, chin high. Her eyes locked onto Seliora, who was already preening in the corner, and smirking.
Luna marched right up to her, stopping just inches away. "Hope you enjoyed your time with the prince," she said, every word carved from molten fire, "because that is the last you have had of him."