SAMANTHA
I stood by the window, watching the chaos unfold below.
Two women were fighting in the garden. Their dresses were torn. Their hair was flying. Their nails were scratching at each other's faces. One of them had a bloody lip. The other had a chunk of hair missing.
I could not hear what they were saying. But I could see their mouths moving. Screaming. Cursing. Accusing.
The sex-slave selecting ball had not even started and they were already fighting.
"Unbelievable," I muttered.
Joanne walked to the window. She looked down at the scene. She shook her head.
"That is Clara and Mara," she said. "They have been rivals since the day they arrived."
"Rivals over what?"
"Over the princes. Over who will be chosen. Over who will bear the first heir."
I laughed. "They are fighting over something that has not even happened yet."
"That is what happens when you are desperate, Miss Samuels. Desperation makes people do foolish things."
