Amelia
“Get up.”
I avoid the werewolves’ stares as I turn toward the sound of Ava’s voice. Of course she had sat next to her mate. Even though the tension between the two of them is palpable, they at least need to keep up appearances.
Even I understand that much.
Now that the prince has left the banquet hall, only an empty seat separates me from Ava. She’s staring at me now, and she repeats herself. “Get. Up.”
My heart rate spikes with nerves. Ava isn’t my master, but in his absence, am I supposed to answer to other werewolves?
“You are a pet,” she practically spits. “You are not fit to dine with the nobles,” she adds venomously as Omegas approach the table on all sides to serve the next course. “So you will get up, and you will serve us as you are meant to.”
An Omega reaches acro
