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“Not a clue,” I answer truthfully.

“You have to have some inkling,” Kira says. It’s the first time she’s spoken to me all afternoon. “When Colby and I conceived, I knew right away. I could just feel it.”

I hold back a statement about how getting railed 24/7 by three different men makes it hard to discern any special difference, and offer her a sympathetic smile instead. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to Colby. The guys were devastated. Particularly Lex. I know they were friends.”

She gently strokes her stomach. “It’s okay. I mean, I miss him, and I hate that this is the route he took, but I come from a long line of East Enders. If I carry to term, King Ashby will set the baby up with a trust fund, and I’ll get an allowance. The Princes always take care of their own.”

Of course, Kira understands what Frida apparently doesn’t: that babies here are a business, not a declaration of love. Even so, Kira sounds naïve. Ashby doesn’t have an altruistic bone in his body. Not unless it gives him what he wants, and I guess that’s the catch. He just wants purebred babies to churn through this system. Boys to train for roles in PNZ. Girls to control. But I also can imagine this girl needs to know he’ll support her and the baby when it comes. They all want the fairytale.

“I’m sure they will,” I say, humoring her, even if uncomfortably.

An attendant moves behind my chair and unwraps my wet hair. “Carol,” Gina says, looking at the woman behind me, “You should give Verity one of your amazing scalp massages. It feelssogood.”

The woman bends and asks, “Would you like that?”

I blink up at her, taken aback. “Uh, sure. That sounds nice.”

Fuck.

Nice doesn’t begin to describe it. She kneads and works my scalp from my forehead to my neck. It also has the advantage of doubling as an excuse to end my discussion with the other girls. Cutsluts wouldn’t posture like this. They’d hound me until I told them all the dirty, gritty details, and they’d know when I was lying or holding something back. These East Enders are pros at artifice, however. They’re happier with the illusion than the truth, and that makes honesty a tightrope walk.

I keep my eyes closed and drift off, barely aware of Carol’s movements. At some point, the massage stops, and she begins applying something heavy and thick to my hair. The comfortable weight of it drags me beneath the surface of awareness, my late-night wandering the palace with Lex catching up to me.

My doze turns into a hard, dreamless sleep.

“Rise and shine, Princess,” I hear, followed by a giggle and snort of laughter. My eyes flutter open to the sight of the rest of the party already dressed, hair and makeup flawless.

My jaw cracks with a wide, embarrassing yawn. “Ugh, I must have fallen asleep.” I rub my eyes and sit up, feeling a heavy tug on my scalp. Frowning, I reach up to touch my hair, confused by the texture. “What the—” Jolting upright, I realize my hair is hard, caked in something thick and unmoving.

“Something wrong?” Heather asks snidely.

“What did you do?” I try to dig my freshly painted nails into my scalp. “What is this?”

Leaning back in her chair, she crosses her perfectly waxed legs. “What you deserve. You thought you were so smart going to the masquerade, pretending like you were some innocent little gutter virgin from West End. With your shiny red hair and perfect little womb. You knew all along he was your father, didn’t you? This was your way of forcing him to claim you, by getting knocked up by one of his sons. Adoubleheir. You just weren’t happy with what you had—you wanted all of it, didn’t you?”

“The gifts.” Gina steps forward, snarling. “The boys—ourboys—down on their knees, honoring you for being such a perfect Princess.”

“Are you fucking with me?” I ask, trying to get out of the chair without tripping over the foot tub. The only ones in the room are me and the girls. Where Adeline and her assistants went, God knows. “I don’t want any of that bullshit!”

“Jesus, you’re such a spoiled, self-righteous bitch,” Lakshmi adds. “You come here whining about this being a job? You can’t even be grateful for what you have.” She looks over her shoulder. “You know Chloe had two miscarriages? She’s got one more shot before her boyfriend moves on to someone new.” Behind her stands Chloe, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “So while you’re flaunting your pregnancy, maybe you could show some tact by remembering that some people aren’t as lucky.”

“Lucky?” I gape at them, rage filling my chest. “How fucking dare you call me lucky. You think it’s lucky to find out my father made no attempt to contact me until I could give him the only thing he wants? Or the fact that I signed a contract with the Princes using blood from tearing through my hymen? Or that my vagina was the target of a battering ram day in and day out?” To Chloe, I say, “I didn’t know that about you, and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t feel pressured to conceive a baby if it’s dangerous for your health.” I’m sure as shit going to talk to Lex about that. “But if you think being in that palace makes me lucky, then you’ve been lied to.”

“Oh boo-fucking-hoo,” Kira says, her quiet tone from before replaced with a bitter growl. “It’s not even like your uterus is special. I got knocked up faster than you did, but my mother didn’tcreateme with King Ashby, so it makes my child less worthy.”

These girls are fucking nuts.

“You want to know how spoiled I am? How privileged my life is? What happens when I don’t toe the line?” I turn my gaze at Heather, who’s still staring at me like I’m the enemy. “You want to know why Tommy suddenly has this new kink?”

I grab my phone out of my pocket and search for the last text I got from the ‘Court.’ I’ve been saving this video file for my next stay in West End, trying to gather the courage I’ll need to take away all of King Ashby’s leverage against me. Who knows if I’ll have what it takes to sit my mother down and reveal what happened that night with the frat.

I suppose this—uploading it to my Court’s group chat—is a good start.

A series of notification alerts ping around the room. My heart pounds as they, one by one, pull out their phones.

“Go ahead and see!” I roar, a flood of rage unleashing. “Then you’ll realize your sweet Tommy is reliving the best moment of his pathetic fucking life.” Not all of the PNZ members seemed to take as perverse enjoyment in the act as others.

Tommy had his dick out before any of them.