Chapter Nine

Kia

By the time I got downstairs, Anastasia was in the dining hall, seated at the head of the table like always. She didn’t look up immediately when I walked in, which somehow made it worse, and I hated that.

“Stand properly,” she said without looking at me, and I straightened automatically, even though my shoulder protested. “You look disheveled.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust my voice yet.

She finally lifted her gaze, taking me in slowly, her eyes lingering just a second too long on my shoulder before moving back to my face. “You caused quite a disturbance last night.”

My jaw tightened. “I didn’t…”

“You ran,” she cut in smoothly. “You involved someone outside this family. And you embarrassed this house.” She paused like she was letting that settle. “Again.”

I stayed quiet this time because arguing hadn’t worked so far.

Her fingers tapped lightly against the table. “Your relocation has been adjusted.”

My stomach dropped a little. “Adjusted?”

“You were meant to be moved today,” she continued calmly. “But circumstances have changed.” She leaned back slightly, completely at ease. “We still have guests in the manor. Important ones. And until they leave, we require every available hand.”

I blinked once, trying to process that. “So… I’m not going today?”

“No,” she said simply. “You’ll go when I say you go.”

Something about the way she said it made it clear that this wasn’t mercy. It wasn’t a delay for my sake. It was convenience. That was all I was now.

“You should consider yourself useful while you still have the chance,” she added, her tone light but sharp underneath. “After all, once you are moved, your responsibilities will change.”

My fingers curled slightly at my sides, but I didn’t react.

“Now,” she continued, reaching for her tea like this was just another task on a list, “the King has requested privacy during his stay, but he will still be served properly. You will take his breakfast.”

For a second, I thought I heard her wrong.

“I… what?” I said before I could stop myself.

Her eyes lifted again, colder this time. “You will take his breakfast,” she repeated. “Is there a reason you cannot follow a simple instruction?”

“You want me to go to his room?” I asked, slower this time.

“Yes.”

My mind flashed back to the way he looked at me.

“I can send someone else,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “There are other…”

“There are not,” she cut in sharply. “You will go.”

Then she added, softer this time, but somehow worse, “Or would you prefer I remind you of what happens when you refuse?”

My shoulder burned like it was answering for me.

“I’ll go,” I said quickly.

“Good.” She smiled faintly, satisfied. “Then do not keep him waiting.”

A tray was already prepared by the time I stepped into the corridor again. Fresh bread, fruit, tea, everything arranged perfectly like it mattered. Like this mattered.

I picked it up carefully, adjusting my grip when my shoulder protested again. The weight wasn’t much, but it felt like more than it should have.

I told myself it didn’t matter. That this was just another task. Just another order. That whatever happened in that room didn’t change anything but my chest still felt tight.

The guards outside his door didn’t stop me. One of them knocked once, sharp and precise, then stepped aside without a word.

“Enter,” his voice came from inside.

I pushed the door open.

The room was larger than any of the others I’d seen in the manor, darker too, the curtains half drawn, letting in just enough light to see clearly. Everything inside looked untouched, perfectly arranged, like no one actually lived there.

He was by the window, back turned, one hand resting against the frame.

For a second, I just stood there then I stepped in quietly, closing the door behind me.

“I brought your breakfast,” I said, my voice steady enough.

He didn’t turn right away.

I moved toward the table, focusing on the tray, on placing everything down properly, on not thinking too much about the fact that I was in his room.

Before I could react, before I could even process it, he turned sharply and closed the distance between us in a second. My body jerked back instinctively, the movement pulling at my shoulder, and I hit the edge of the table behind me.

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” he snapped, his voice low and edged with anger.

“I… your breakfast… ” I started, my words tripping over themselves.

“You smell like shit,” he said, his lip curling slightly, like the words themselves annoyed him. 

My throat tightened, but I didn’t answer.

He stepped back like my presence was offensive, like I’d crossed some line just by being there. “I didn’t ask for you,” he continued coldly. “I asked for service, not…” He gestured vaguely in my direction. “…this.” 

Heat crept up my neck, not from embarrassment, not exactly, but from something sharper.

“I was sent,” I said, keeping my voice even. 

His eyes snapped back to mine.

For a second, I thought he was going to say something else.

Instead, his jaw tightened.

“Then leave,” he said, his tone flat now, final. “And next time, make sure they send someone who knows how to do their job properly.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening slightly at my sides.

I nodded once, even though he didn’t ask me to, and turned toward the door without another word.

I didn’t rush or didn’t look back, I just walked out.

The door closed quietly behind me and for a second, I stood there staring at nothing.