THE FIGT AT THE DINNING TABLE

MAYA

She passed the night in the house. Even after the public humiliation at her ruined birthday party, Maria had managed to keep her puppet inside our walls. Clara had not been thrown out into the dark woods as she deserved. Instead, she had been given a guest chamber on the second floor, right near the main wing.

During breakfast the next day, I came out late, though. My head was still heavy from a restless night spent watching over Edward, and my heart was battered from the memory of that terrible kiss.

When I finally walked into the grand dining room, the sun was streaming through the high windows, illuminating the long mahogany table. My steps froze on the cold marble floor.

Clara was already seated in my seat, the very one given to me by Alpha Edward as his second wife and Luna.

She sat there with her shoulders back, holding a silver fork, sipping tea from a fine china cup as if she had owned that chair her entire life. And right at the head of the table sat Edward.

Now, Edward was right there even when she sat on the seat, but he said nothing. He was staring down at his plate, picking at his food with a blank, hollow expression in his eyes. The dark poison Maria had given him the night before still lingered in his system, making his movements sluggish and his mind distant.

Maria was sitting to his left, wearing a high-collared velvet robe to cover the pale, sick color of her skin. The moment I stepped into the room, her lips curled into a nasty, triumphant grin.

"Good morning, Maya," Maria said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness that quickly turned to ice. "You are late."

I kept my chin held high, stepping toward my chair. "Clara is in my seat, Luna Maria. Tell her to move."

Maria set her cup down with a sharp clatter against the saucer.

"Maya, you got that seat as a breeder," Maria said, her dark eyes flashing with pure malice. "Edward got you pregnant, but you lost your baby and are now useless in this house. We have another breeder, and so she will start using that spot during family mealtime."

My breath hitched in my throat. Every word she spoke was a cruel dagger meant to open up old, bleeding wounds.

Maria swallowed her last bite and continued, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. "You can use the other seat, or even leave the palace, or take back your place as a maid."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the dining hall.

I turned my head slowly, looking at Edward, expecting him to say something. I waited for him to slam his fist on the table, to use his Alpha voice, to defend his marked wife like he had done on the staircase the night before. But he said nothing, not even yelling at her like he did last time. He just sat there, staring blankly at his hands, his mind completely trapped in a dark, dazed fog.

My heart shattered all over again, turning my grief into a blinding, scorching rage.

I took three long strides toward Clara. The weak, timid act she had put on yesterday was completely gone. She sat proudly in my chair, her lips curved into that same dirty, arrogant smile she had given me over Edward’s shoulder during their kiss.

"Get up," I demanded, my voice low and trembling with anger. "This is my seat."

I moved to Clara and urged her to leave my seat, but she ignored me with her eyes fixed on Maria. Clearly, she is her Hitler. She wouldn't take a single breath without looking at Maria for permission, taking every ounce of her cruel confidence directly from the Luna's presence.

"She doesn't have to listen to a maid, Maya," Maria sneered from the head of the table.

That was the final straw. Thirty-six days of suffering, walking miles in the dust, enduring the grave curse, and watching my mate get poisoned and stolen, everything exploded inside my chest at once.

I reached out, grabbed Clara by the thick fabric of her dress, and dragged her up from the seat.

Clara shrieked, her tea cup shattering onto the floor as she was pulled off the chair. But instead of backing down, she turned around and shoved me back with terrifying, supernatural strength.

It resulted in the two of us going into a serious fight.

Clara lunged at me, her fingers curling into tight claws as she tackled me onto the hard marble floor. Silver platters crashed down around us, food spilled across the ground, and the dining room turned into absolute chaos.

She beat me badly. Clara was strong, far stronger than any normal low-pack girl, and driven by Maria’s dark influence. She struck my face, her sharp nails scraping across my cheek, and threw her weight into punching my ribs. I tried to fight back, clawing at her shoulders and trying to push her off, but my body was still recovering its full physical strength after the long spiritual ritual. Pain flared through my chest and arms. I have never been hurt this much. My lip split, blood filled my mouth, and every breath felt like fire burning in my lungs.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Edward’s voice echoed weakly from the table, but he couldn't even stand up straight, his hands trembling as he tried to break through the dark fog clouding his mind.

Maria sat back, laughing softly, enjoying every single second of my humiliation.

Clara pinned my shoulders to the floor, raising her hand to strike my face once more, her eyes full of wicked triumph.

Lying on the cold stone, bleeding and bruised, a wave of deep, primal fury boiled up from the very bottom of my soul. I wasn't just Maya the maid anymore. I was Princess Philomena, the true royal bloodline of this pack! I had died in blood once before, and I refused to be beaten into the dirt by a puppet!

Out of anger, I stared at the picture of Philomena on the wall.

The massive, golden-framed portrait of my past self hung directly above the grand fireplace. Her painted eyes seemed to glow in the morning light, staring down at the violence in the room. I locked my eyes onto her royal gaze, channeling every drop of my rage, my hatred, and my reincarnated soul directly into the canvas.

Instantly, the air in the dining room turned ice-cold.

A heavy, unnatural wind rushed through the sealed room, making the heavy velvet curtains whip violently. The portrait on the wall shivered, and an invisible, suffocating pressure slammed into the space.

And like always, her head began to spin, just like Maria's.

Clara’s hand froze in mid-air above my face. Her eyes went wide with pure, blinding terror as the ancestral magic hit her like a physical blow. She gasped for air, grabbing her own temples as her vision twisted.

"My head..." Clara shrieked, dropping off of me onto her knees. "My head is spinning! Make it stop! Make it stop!"

Clara began to turn around on the floor, clutching her skull, screaming in agony as the room spun wildly in her mind. She rolled across the marble tiles, weeping, completely paralyzed by the dark, dizzying spell radiating from the portrait.

"No! Not again!" Maria screamed, covering her ears, her own face turning deathly pale as the familiar ancestral headache began to tear through her brain as well. "Turn it off! Put the picture away!"

I slowly pushed myself up from the floor, wiping the trickle of blood from my swollen lip with the back of my hand. I stood tall, smoothing down my torn dress, my breath coming in deep, steady rising waves.

I looked down at Clara writhing on the ground, whimpering in agony, and I smiled.

A cold, dark, beautiful satisfaction filled my heart. The picture fights when someone makes me angry. It wasn't just an old painting on the wall, it was a spiritual anchor for my past life, responding directly to my emotion, my rage, and my royal command!

Slowly, I am now understanding the powers I have as a reincarnated soul on a revenge mission.

I wasn't defenseless. I wasn't weak. The Goddess hadn't just sent me back to endure pain, she had gifted me the raw, ancestral authority to command the very spirits of this palace. Whenever someone tried to destroy me, the ancient magic of Princess Philomena would step in to crush them to their knees.

I stepped over Clara’s shaking body on the floor, walking directly to my seat at the table. I pulled the high-backed chair out, sat down calmly, and picked up a clean linen napkin to wipe the blood from my chin.

"This is my seat," I said, my voice smooth, quiet, and echoing with an unnatural, chilling authority that made the entire room go dead silent.

Maria cowered in her chair, holding her throbbing head, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes as if she were looking at a ghost returned from the grave. Clara remained curled on the floor, sobbing quietly, completely broken and unable to lift her head.

Edward blinked heavily, his hands clutching the edge of the table as the intense burst of ancestral power slowly cleared the last traces of Maria’s poison from his mind. He looked at Clara on the floor, then at Maria's pale face, and finally at me sitting proudly in my chair with blood on my lip and fire in my eyes.

"Maya..." Edward whispered, his voice finally regaining its deep, clear tone as his eyes widened with shock. "What happened here?"

I looked at my mate, letting a serene, unbothered smile touch my lips despite the pain in my body.

"Nothing, My Lord," I said softly, taking a sip of warm tea from a fresh cup. "Just setting things back in their proper place."

The war inside this house had officially elevated. Maria had tried to use Clara to break my spirit, but she had only succeeded in unlocking the true extent of my royal power. They had bruised my skin today, but I was going to strip them of their crown, their minds, and their lives tomorrow.