“Such needlework!” she was exclaiming as she beamed at the three of them. “I’ve never seen anything like it, girls! Keep up the excellent work.”
“Ugh—it makes me sick,” Megan groaned. “Watching how they play her—and it’s almost like she wants to be manipulated.”
As we watched, Nancy shot her a glance of triumph. But when her eyes turned to me, her expression grew darker. She was looking at me almost with an expression of hate, I thought. I met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. What had I done to make her despise me so? Even with her magic supposedly neutered, it was now clear that Nancy Rattcliff was not without resources.
She was a bad enemy to have.
“Don’t look at her—don’t give her the satisfaction,” Megan whispered, giving me a nudge with one elbow.
Clearly she had seen the silent exchange between me and Nancy. She shot a last glare at the other girl and then pointedly turned back to our dress.
“Show me again how to do a seam?” she asked me. “Maybe I should try the next one.”
“Maybe you should,” I said, relinquishing the sewing machine. “My head just isn’t in the game right now.”
“You’ve got other things on your mind, I know,” Megan said sympathetically. She lowered her voice. “Is it hard, getting used to having Nocturne senses now? I know from talking to Griffin that they can see and smell and hear and just about everything else better than humans.”
“Actually, aside from the smell of human food making me feel like I’m going to hurl, I haven’t noticed much improvement,” I admitted, also keeping my voice down. “But that’s really not surprising since I’m a second-rate Nocturne, you know.”
“You are not!” Megan said indignantly. “You’re not a second rate anything, Kaitlyn!”
I smiled at her, grateful for her kindness and loyalty.
“Thanks, but that’s not how I feel.” I lowered my voice even more, glad that we were at the back of the room and our conversation couldn’t be overheard over the hum of the many sewing machines. “I mean, I can’t even drink bagged blood. I wish I could at least do that.”
“Why?” Megan arched an eyebrow at me.
“Well, because,” I said. “I don’t want to have to be dependent on someone I barely know to feed me. It’s like being a baby again or something! I’m sure Ari must be doing it out of obligation or some other reason that only he knows, but it makes me feel really uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t feel like an obligation to me when I give Griffin some of my blood,” Megan said quietly. “It’s a pure pleasure—a sensation of sharing something incredibly intimate with someone I love.”
“But Ari doesn’t love me!” I protested. “And I certainly don’t love him.”
“Well, maybe that could change in time,” Megan said lightly.
“I don’t see how,” I said darkly. “He’s a prince or whatever the Drake equivalent of a prince is and I’m just a nobody human who got turned into a nobody Nocturne.”
“Kaitlyn, you are not nobody,” Megan said fiercely. “You need to stop putting yourself down and feel your own self-worth. Remember what I’m always telling you?”
“Yes…” I sighed. “Nobody can make you feel inferior unless you let them.”
“That’s right,” Megan said decisively. “So don’t let anyone make you feel like that—not even you.”
I thought of how Ari had put his hand over my mouth when I started to put myself down. He had said that he wouldn’t let anyone speak badly of me—not even me. It was basically what Megan was saying too.
Maybe it was time to start listening.
I wanted to—I swear I did. But it was really hard to have self-esteem and see myself as a worthwhile person who was worthy of taking the vein of such a high-ranking Drake when I looked like I did and had just been cast off by the Breedloves like a piece of unwanted trash.
That kind of thing really messes with a girl’s self-confidence, you know?
“I’ll try,” I said to Megan. “I can’t promise anything but I’ll try to feel better about myself.”
“You can start by talking better about yourself,” she said firmly. “What you need is a self-affirmation mantra. Every time you start to have doubts about your self worth, just say to yourself, ‘I am a sweet, kind, wonderful person and I have people who love me.’”
“Oh, Megan…” Her words made me want to tear up but I knew I couldn’t cry in public anymore than I could puke—the blood tears would give my new Nocturne status away just as fast as vomiting a gout of crimson at the dinner table would.
So I didn’t cry, but I did hug her.
“You’re a wonderful, supportive friend,” I told her. “Thank you, Megan.”
“Anytime.” She hugged me back, hard and then we pulled apart and she went back to the sewing machine. “Now let me see if I can get the seam straight this time…”