Page 19 of Scarred

Giggles burst around the table, and I smile, something warming the center of my chest when I do.

“Now...” I take advantage of the new camaraderie and lean forward. “Tell me about these rebels.”

Ophelia’s green eyes widen and Marisol shifts in her seat, fingers brushing over her blonde hair.

Interesting.

“Did I say something inappropriate?” I ask. “Apologies if I did. I overheard talk and got curious, but from your reaction, I can see it’s a sensitive subject.”

I pause, allowing my words to linger in the air before I continue. “You know… You should tell me, anyway. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of anyone, most of all the king.” I place a hand on my chest, giggling. “Can you imagine?”

Ophelia hesitates before leaning in close. “They’re the outliers.”

“Outliers?”

She nods, and Marisol purses her lips before adding, “Filth is what they are. Disgusting creatures who think they have a right to live on our level.”

My stomach tightens. “Do they not?”

Ophelia shakes her head. “They’re criminals. People say they smoke and drink until they can’t see straight, and then sneak into the upper east side and snatch people right off the streets.”

“For what purpose?” My brows draw in.

“To make a statement?” Ophelia bites on her lips.

“They’rehyenas,” Marisol cuts in. “They’ve only become a problem recently, and now that they’ve thrown themselves at King Michael’s feet?” She shrugs her shoulders, brushing her hands down her skirt. “They won’t be around much longer.”

Sheina’s fingers pause from where she’s pinning my hair. “That’s rather harsh,” she chastises.

Marisol’s gray eyes cut to hers, her features drawing tight. “They hold human sacrifices in the middle of their dirty roads! Strip a person down until there’s nothing left but their pride, and then they take that too, leaving only shame and whimpers for death in its wake.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Ophelia scolds. “No one’s seen it happen.”

I suck in a breath. “Surely not. Wouldn’t they want the people on their side if they plan to go against the king? Wouldn’t it be obvious people were missing?”

Ophelia shakes her head. “Sometimes, milady, there’s no rhyme or reason to people’s madness. And if they have someone leading them now…”

Her voice trembles and her eyes glaze over.

My heartbeat rages in the center of my chest. “They’re that organized?”

I remember the unkempt woman from the party and the way she spoke. But I had filed that away as the ramblings of a deranged woman, driven mad by the famine running rampant in the city streets. King Michael didn’t seem to be bothered, so I assumed there was no reason to take it seriously.

Marisol’s spine stiffens, and she clears her throat. “Yes, well, we shouldn’t speak of these things. It’s forbidden.”

I stare at Marisol, taking in her words and slotting them away to dissect further when I’m alone.

“Regardless,” Ophelia says. “They’re not the type of people you should consort with. Ever. It’s enough to be tried for treason.”

“Of course not.” Reaching out, I lay a hand on top of Ophelia’s, smiling. “Thank you for telling me.” My eyes flick to Marisol, then back. “Us ladies need to stick together, after all.”

* * *

It’slong after everyone has turned in for the night, but I can’t sleep. My mind fills with questions and my stomach floods with tension.

Rebels.

I’ve never heard of them before.