Sabrina's Rage

Sabrina's POV

I sat at the back of the classroom, barely listening as Ms. Gentle’s voice droned on about etiquette. My gaze, sharp and cold, was fixed on her. Amelia. She sat near the front, her posture all proper and perfect, like she actually belonged. Like she was the true Crown Princess.

The thought alone made me sick. Every time I looked at her, it felt like a slap in the face. How could Lucas, of all people, choose her? She’s a rejected mate—cast aside by her true mate. Someone that weak, that unwanted, had no place in the royal pack, let alone beside Lucas, the Crown Prince. It was beneath him. It was beneath me.

I couldn’t believe my plan had failed. I’d suggested to Ms. Gentle that Amelia read a paragraph in French, fully expecting her to stumble, to make a fool of herself in front of everyone. I wanted to see the look on her face when she realized she wasn’t fit for this life, when everyone saw how unworthy she was. But no. Amelia had read it flawlessly. Effortlessly, even.