Page 40 of Moon Claimed

She was desperate enough to take the risk of entering despite the cameras in the hall.

I glanced at her, and she met my gaze with the same mild expression the woman always wore.

I smiled before shifting my focus.

Pascal wanted the journals.

Which meant therehadto be something in them she didn’t want me to know.

8

I rubbed my eyes again.

“It’s easier than usual to find you unattractive,” Wade said.

“Thanks.” I sent him a withering glare. “I was up late. Not feeling so great.”

I’d finished theI’m 18journal and learned not a single thing. The start ofI’m 19had so far proven to be mostly grief from the loss of Mum’s father. I must have fallen asleep in the early morning.

“You need more sleep,” Cameron said from his other side. “I can bring you some camomile tea, if you like?”

If I chewed on an entire packet, would it solve my problems? “That’d be great.”

Wade nudged Cameron. “Where’ve you been lately, anyway?” He gasped. “You have a lover.”

Snatching her hands, he stared into her eyes. “Forbidden. More real than anything you’ve ever felt.”

Cameron wrenched her hands free. “No lover.”

“Whatever. My power is foolproof.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets, watching stewards assemble for the Tuesday night rundown. “Gotta say, he was bang on about Logan.”

“He’s wrongthistime,” Cameron muttered, walking away.

“It isn’t easy to carry so much power,” Wade said. “I better go schmooze. She’s a grudge holder.”

I watched him leave, waving at the Freys. There was a never-ending list of stewards to know—Geralds, Ryans, Trenthams, Lees. I had no idea how I’d remember them all. Pretty sure I’d offend several people tonight by not recalling their names.

“You good to go?” Rhona said, joining me.

I’d rather not.

Turned out, while I had no problem playing my saxophone for crowds, talking wasn’t the same. I forced my thoughts away from the stupid instrument. “Yeah.”

I startled at the harshness of my voice.

“Whoa.” She grinned. “Intense. You sick or something?”

I forced a laugh. “Something caught in my throat.”

“Just saying though, the name Andie works no matter your gender.”

Shoving her, I climbed the stairs.

Channelling Rhona from last week, I tapped the microphone. Things like this were so much easier if I pretended to be her. She didn’t take shit from anyone. Squaring my shoulders, I waited for the tribe to quieten.

Last week, Rhona commanded them, pretending to be me.