Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  I couldn’t quite explain it, it was crazy. But in that moment, I’d felt a zinging sensation go through me. Something about him last night had felt different, foreign almost. He had been sweet, gentle. Gone was the sarcasm, and the smile that I hated. The smile he’d gifted me with last night had been different, now that I thought about it.

  It had been...sweeter...something I’d never associate the triplets with and I wasn’t sure what to make of it, exactly.

  I tried pushing those thoughts aside as I ate my simple breakfast of eggs, honey oat bread and warm milk. The milk was sweet as it slid down my throat, and I focused on that instead of on the memory of the prince. Last night was over and done with, and things could go back to normal.

  I startled at the sudden nudge to my side. Looking over with a glare at the servant next to me, I was about to snap before she nudged me with her elbow again. She wasn’t even looking at me, she was looking beyond me, towards the entryway of the kitchens.

  I turned, feeling like I was living in a reoccuring nightmare, only to find, yes, the prince standing there in the most arrogant of postures. And he was staring straight at me.

  Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I turned back to my meal, tearing off a piece of bread to take a nibble. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. What was he doing in the kitchens? Maybe he was just here to swindle the cook out of some early desserts, as he and his brothers usually did. I wasn’t even sure if this was Prince Adahm, but I could feel his gaze hard on my back, causing goosebumps to shiver along my covered skin. My body’s reaction made me think that this was him.

  I felt another nudge in my side and this time turned to shoot a murderous glare to her. Her eyes were wide with shock, and I barely registered the clanking stomp of heavy boots before the chair next to me was pulled out, bottom scraping along the stone floor.

  Slowly, I turned and finally acknowledged the prince. He was still staring at me with that infuriating grin of his, though, once again, I felt as though there was something off about it. It was different again. Less forced. Less sweet. More...mischievous…

  I stood and dipped into an obligatory curtsey. “Your Majesty,” I mumbled before sitting back down. He still didn’t speak, and it made me uncomfortable. “Is there something you require?” My hands threatened to tremble, so I hid them beneath the table and clutched them tightly in my lap.

  “I just wanted to see you.” His reply was slow, full of promise and hidden meaning. My face flushed and I set a cautious look around at the other servants, all who had stopped what they were doing to openly stare. He didn’t seem to mind, or even care. I personally wanted to snap at the cook that his eggs were burning.

  “May I ask for what, your Majesty?” It took all I had in me not to stammer the words out. Everyone was staring. Surely this was breaching the bounds of propriety. He was a prince, for gods’ sakes, and everything he was implying with his words and gaze was wrong and inappropriate.

  “Come on…” He scooted his chair closer to me, so close that our shoulders brushed intimately. The servant beside me let out a small gasp. Royalty were not supposed to touch servants. They weren’t supposed to gaze at them. Want them. Want them? Where had I gotten that idea? “After last night, I thought you’d want to have breakfast together.”

  My heart stopped beating in my chest. I could have died from mortification right then and there. I’d wanted to keep that a secret. Last night...I had thought something special had shifted between the two of us, that it had been a secret meant for us alone. No one had seen him go into my room and no one had seen him go out. Now, he was here and announcing it to the whole kitchen.

  Almost as if he meant to ruin me.

  “Majesty, I—”

  “It was fun,” he interrupted, reaching a hand out to trail fingers against my rounded cheek. His fingers were calloused. I jerked away but he kept them suspended where my face had been. I glared at them, looking at his fingertips… “We should do it again sometime.” He stood up then, done with the conversation. He winked at me once, before turning and leaving. Leaving me in the aftermath of a huge, problematic fuck up.

  The whisperings began as soon as he’d gone. Whisperings of what might have happened between us. Whisperings that didn’t care if I was sitting right there in the room with them. Speculations on my character, voices calling me a seductress, a tramp and even worse…

  I couldn’t reply to them. I could only listen, stare down at my plate of cold breakfast lost in thought. Lost in what had just happened, repeating the scenario over and over again, quicker each time, through my mind. That arrogant smile, as if the sweet words and moments shared the night before had meant absolutely nothing. He had to know what this would do to me. What it would to my reputation as a servant in the household. I’d be the slut who had seduced a Prince. I would be the social climbing cow, who only had her position because of a clandestine affair with a Prince.

  He’d sought to purposely ruin me.

  But I knew. The truth came easily, quickly enough in a sudden clear moment. No one, not even their mother could tell them apart. It was then that I realized, that I could, and that the prince who had just shattered my reputation to ruins, had not been the same prince who had helped me sew together the dress the night before. And if they hadn’t been the same, then had the one who tore the pearls away in the first place been a different one as well?

  Not many would have known, because not many would have looked closely. But that quick glimpse I had gotten at his calloused fingers trying to caress me, I had realized the truth. His fingers would have been bandaged, if not, they would have been covered with the slight scarring of needle marks. I’d seen them, I’d watched those long fingers poke through skin and extract blood many times the night before.

  That was how I knew that for the second time this week, I was being duped.

  I stormed through the castle, all the way to my room where I slammed the door loudly behind me. I paced through the small confines of space, mind whirling with a hazy swirl of anger. The bastards! The childish, reputation ruining, shitty bastards! They’d all went along with the same sick game they played and had tricked me.

  Yes, a part of it was my fault, for trusting so easily. For falling deeply for last night’s voice and expression, for the help that was offered when I was feeling so down. They’d gone and played me for a fool. They’d destroyed a dress, had made me care, and then ruined my reputation all within twenty four hours.

  With a cry, I reached for a pillow and hurled it against the wall.

  Why had I fallen into the triplets’ trap? Why had I let myself be tricked by such...such...beasts?! Why had I thought that I would be any different from anyone else in this castle? That where they had tricked everyone else, that it wouldn’t happen to me, too?

  Now, my reputation was in tatters because of my own stupidity. I should have slammed the door in the prince’s face last night. Whichever prince it had been.

  Why hadn’t I realized sooner how different they had been? How it couldn’t have been the same person before me? Looking back, I saw it clearly now. The first one to have claimed to have been Adahm, after he’d destroyed the dress, had been so quick to walk away. The other one, the prince from last night had been more stubborn, desperate for me to accept his apology—though that may have all just been an act. And then the one from this morning… He’d seemed to have one purpose in mind. My ruin.

  How did I even go about trying to figure out which prince was which? No. I halted my thoughts then and there. There would be no investigating, no trying to figure out who was who. They’d done enough damage that I’d have to fix up. I had to stay away from them, before they did anything else to ruin me.

  But...who had been the one to help me last night? Had his words and actions been genuine? They’d seemed genuine enough but...If they had been, why pretend to be someone else? Were their heads to deep into the same facade, so far up their asses, that they didn’t even know anymore?

  No, that couldn
’t be it. They’d been different. Yes, they had adopted the same arrogant smile and manner of walking. The only way I’d been able to tell them apart was because of that detail in the fingers. Once they healed, there’d be no way for me to tell them apart again.

  I sat down in my bed, heartbeat steadying into a thumping, hard rhythm. Even if I knew that they were different people, how exactly would I even figure out who was who? Who was Adahm, Aidan and who was Alastair?

  My mind whirled.

  By process of elimination, of course.

  The pieces suddenly fell into place, and my need for revenge suddenly outweighed any logic I had tried fathoming.

  Fine.

  They wanted to trick me?

  Four could play at that game.

  Chapter Seven

  Adahm

  I couldn’t concentrate on my breakfast. I couldn’t concentrate on the story our father was telling us for what felt like the billionth time. The story I knew by heart, of the day he nearly lost his life to the hybrid.

  The evidence of the encounter was prominent on his face. Half of his face was scarred in bright pink marks that ranged from the tip of his hairline, all the way down his side, to his leg. One of his eyes was a piercing, bright blue, like our eyes, like our sister’s. The other was a milky white, a ghost eye.

  Beside me, my brother muttered along with the story, amusement wry in his mannerisms. Our sister sat at the table, elbows digging into the surface. She ignored the warning glances our mother tossed her way because of her lack of propriety. Behind her, her guard, River McCoy, stood at attention. His presence here wasn’t really required, but he insisted on following her around everywhere. I figured it was more because he was in love with her, rather than for protection.

  Aidan was nowhere to be seen.

  That was not a good sign.

  His threat last night had set me on edge. All I could think about was Maudey, and what he planned on doing to her. I’d protested once again this morning, but he’d just shot me with a suspicious look and had asked me why I suddenly cared so much about our mother’s lady’s maid.

  I couldn’t bring myself to answer with the truth. How could I when I didn’t even know what the truth was, myself?

  I wanted to protect her from my brother’s mischievous streak. But in truth, if I really wanted to do that, would I have gone along with this charade in the beginning? Would I have allowed them to pretend to be me to woo her, and now to do whatever it was Aidan planned to do?

  I stabbed my fork into my breakfast bread in frustration.

  Alastair stopped his echoed mutterings long enough to look at me with curiosity. I avoided his gaze. He hadn’t seemed too keen on letting Aidan near Maudey either, and I wondered if it had anything to do with what they’d shared the night before. He had told us what happened in detail, though I still felt as though a piece of the story were missing.

  “Stop brooding,” my sister, Keanna, said from across the table. She was piercing me with eyes that were like my own, like our father’s. Her hair was just as unruly and bright as ours, though hers was long, nearly down to her waist. She blew out a breath and a curl flew away only to fall back into place. “It’s unattractive.”

  Smile falling into place, I draped an arm over the back of my chair and leaned back. “Nothing about me is ever unattractive.”

  She made a face of disgust, followed by gagging noises. From across the table, our mother, with her long brown hair and dark eyes, shot her the angriest look, which Keanna ignored.

  “Where has your brother run off to this morning?” mum asked, obviously trying to change the subject before a war of words ensued.

  If only I knew the answer to that.

  Then I wouldn’t be brooding.

  “Which one?” Alastair asked, waggling his eyebrows in her direction. We often tried getting her to guess which brother was which. I was not in the mood for this today.

  “I am your mother,” she replied indignantly, straightening her already straight posture. “I can tell you apart, Aidan.”

  Alastair chuckled. “Wrong. I’m Alastair.”

  There was always some truth thrown in there.

  The doors to the dining hall opened and we turned to see Aidan strut in, an arrogant skip to his step. That was not a good sign. “There he is.” I forced a too-tight smile to my face. “The man of the hour. Aidan, where have you been? Mother’s been worried.”

  “Oh, you know…” He kicked out a chair from beside Alastair and plopped himself leisurely into it. “Here, there...everywhere.” He pulled a plate towards himself and began piling food on top of it. I tried not to look at him. He’d probably read the hurt on my features, the questioning, the desperation at not knowing what he had done to Maudey.

  “Brooding,” Keanna mumbled. I shot her a glare and she averted her eyes, picking up a goblet and sipping her morning juice from it. Brat.

  To avoid looking murderous, I picked up a bit of bread and bit into it. The stuff was rather dry, and I wasn’t too fond of bread, but Aidan was, and that meant we all had to be. I wondered if I had been fond of spinach, would he scarf that shit down his throat for appearances sake as well?

  Damn it. I was brooding again.

  Schooling my face into something that kind of resembled relaxation, I kept eating, attention snapping up when the doors to the dining hall opened. I watched as Maudey stepped through, carrying a tray of correspondence for our parents.

  My gaze, as well as Alastair’s and Aidan’s followed her every move. She wore the same boring cotton she always did. Drab colors of brown and cream, an apron tied securely around her waist, and a head scarf, covering the hair I so desperately wanted to see loose.

  She avoided our gaze as she walked around the table towards our mother. I wanted her to look. I wanted to see her expression. I wanted to smile at her. “Your correspondence, your Majesty.” She gave a brief curtsey to mum and held the tray out to her.

  “Oh, thank you Maude.” She reached out for the letters on the tray and placed them in front of her to begin opening them. “Is this all of it?”

  Maudey gave a curtsey. “It is, Majesty.”

  Mum nodded. “You are excused.”

  “Thank you, Majesty.” She gave another quick curtsey and tucked the tray beneath her arm. As she turned, she finally looked over at me, and her eyes narrowed.

  Damn it.

  What had Aidan done?

  Her gaze drifted over us all, on me, Alastair, and Aidan, then lower, to the table top, then back to me, where it finally stayed. I started to smile, but she started walking around the table. She walked in the opposite direction in which she had originally come from, straight towards me. Her walk was slow and quiet. And when she got close to me, close enough that I could smell the scent on her clothes, she slowed. Close. She was so close to me.

  And then I felt her hand graze me ever so slightly.

  I almost jumped from the surprise of it. I looked up at her discreetly, noticed her eyes darting up and down again. I looked down and found her clutching something tightly in her small fist. Almost instinctively, I reached for it, and she let it go to me and walked away.

  I loosed a breath and held the slip of paper she’d given me close, sneaking it into my pocket without my brothers noticing. My heart thumped in my chest like a wild thing. Anticipation made my hands tremble. What had she given me?

  I didn’t want to wait too long to find out.

  I stood up from the table quickly. “Excuse me,” I apologized to mother. “I have to take a leak.”

  Before she could chastise me about my poor choice of words, I rushed from the dining hall, out into the hallways, until I found an empty broom closet. Making sure there was no one to spy on me, I yanked the door open and clamoured inside. The space was too tight for my body, but I didn’t care.

  I pulled the slip of paper from my pocket and opened it with trembling fingers. A note, written in neat, cursive handwriting.

  I’ve thought about what you sa
id. You’re right. Let’s meet in my room tonight.

  My breath hitched as I read over the words once, twice, fifteen times. What in gods’ names… What was she talking about? I crumpled the paper up and shoved it back into my pocket.

  What the fuck had Aidan done?

  Chapter Eight

  Maude

  Perhaps I should have felt guilty about the treachery I was going to commit, about the malevolent idea that had come to my mind in an instant, the plan I had concocted to get back at the triplets. But if they didn’t feel guilty for their lies and deceit, then why in the Broken World should I?

  I was going to have my harmless bit of revenge in the only way I could possibly think of..

  I was going to get them to turn on each other.

  It had come to me, the answer, in a flash. What did the triplets share, above all else? A closeness, a closeness no one could ever fathom. After all, it took a lot of secret sharing and synchronization to go about a charade for most of their lives. They had to be well coordinated if they wanted to trick those around them. And that meant no secrets.

  And what would happen to their little facade if they thought that one was keeping secrets from the other?

  They would fall.

  All it took was a little observation. A little observing of their hands, so exposed on the table tops. The triplet who had helped me sew the dress had been in the middle. I could tell because he still sported the scars of needles. The one who had ruined my reputation sat on the right side of him, for his hands were as immaculate and calloused as they had been when he’d gone to visit me moments before in the kitchens. And the third, who I was convinced was the real Adahm, the one who had started it all with the pearls, had had the slightest coverings of ink on his nails.

  It was him who I had slipped the note to.

  And now all I had to do was wait for my plan to fall into place.

  Chapter Nine