CHAPTER 2:UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

                        

That voice was unlike anything I had ever heard. Calm and controlled, yet carrying an authority that demanded obedience without ever needing to shout.

"Is he trying to defend me?" I wondered. I quickly shook the thought from my mind because I knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

"Pr... P... Prince Kael!" the guard stammered, trembling like a drenched rat Caught in a storm.

"So that's Prince Kael?" I thought.

"I believe I asked a question," the stranger said, his voice dropping another degree. "What are you doing with that hot iron?"

   

                   Prince Kael's POV

Raised voices echoed through the eastern hallway, shattering the usual order of the palace.

I frowned deeply. Servants knew better than to cause such a disturbance unless something had gone terribly wrong. As I approached, I noticed a crowd gathered around someone lying motionless on the floor.

The figure was so small and frail that, for a heartbeat, I mistook her for a child.

As I drew closer, I spotted the Head Maid. I couldn't quite remember her name, but I recognized her face. In her hand was a red-hot branding iron, the kind reserved for punishing dangerous offenders in the dungeon.

 Branding irons were meant for criminals in the dungeon, not for a defenseless slave.

A slight frown creased my forehead. What was she doing with a branding iron?

Before I could make sense of the situation, she grabbed the fragile-looking girl by the arm and roughly hauled her to her feet. Without the slightest hesitation, she raised the glowing iron, intending to press it against the girl's skin.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, my voice calm enough to chill the entire hallway.

The entire hallway fell silent. The Head Maid froze, her face draining of color, while the guard holding the girl stiffened in fear.

"Pr... P... Prince Kael!" the guard stammered, trembling like a drenched rat caught in a storm.

"I believe I asked a question," I said, my tone hardened. No one dared answer.

"What are you doing with that branding iron?" I asked. "Answer me before I lose my patience." My words rang through the hallway, forcing every head to bow as a suffocating silence settled over the corridor.

The Head Maid finally found her voice. "Y-Your Highness... this slave disobeyed my orders. I was only trying to teach her a lesson."

My gaze shifted to the girl. Her clothes were stained with dirt and blood. Bruises ringed her wrists, and despite the obvious pain she was in, she neither begged nor cried.

That's strange. Most slaves would have broken long before now, yet she simply swayed on her feet as though sheer determination alone was keeping her standing. Something about her quiet resilience caught my attention, but I couldn't explain why. 

I turned to the Head Maid. "What exactly did she do that made you believe branding her was justified?"

"I... I..She... She stole from the kitchen," the head maid stammered.

"And what did she steal?" I asked, my voice calm, though no less intimidating.

The Head Maid swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. "A... a loaf of bread, Your Highness," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"A loaf of bread?" I repeated.

She nodded frantically. "She was caught having a bite from it."

My gaze drifted back to the girl. She stood unsteadily, her head lowered, as though she had already accepted whatever fate awaited her. There wasn't a trace of defiance in her expression, nor was there any attempt to defend herself, only exhaustion.

"You intended to brand her for stealing a loaf of bread?" I asked.

The Head Maid's lips parted, but no words came out. She lowered her head quivering with fear. I studied her reaction but couldn't help but scoff. 

Interesting. She fears me enough to tremble before me... yet not enough to show mercy to someone utterly at her mercy.

"Answer me." I thundered.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness," she finally managed. 

"She has been warned before. If the other slaves see her go unpunished, they may begin stealing as well."

A heavy silence settled over the hallway. I glanced at the branding iron. Its tip still glowed a dull red, radiating enough heat to scar flesh for life.

"A branding iron is reserved for dangerous criminals," I said steadily. "Not for a starving slave."

The Head Maid immediately fell to her knees, "Please forgive me, Your Highness! I only wanted to maintain order."

"Order?" I echoed. "There is a difference between maintaining order and indulging in cruelty."

No one dared move. Even the guards kept their eyes fixed on the floor. I stepped closer to the girl and she flinched almost imperceptibly, as though she expected me to strike her next. She shifted from the position she was, obviously afraid of my touch, as though I was some monster. Well... I couldn't exactly argue with that. To humans, we werewolves were monsters.

I quietly studied her, bruises covered her arms. Fresh cuts crossed her back from whips. Even a blind man could have recognized the marks of relentless abuse. Her face was pale, but there was a quiet determination in her eyes that refused to break. 

"Did you steal the bread?" I asked.

For the first time since I arrived, she lifted her head and met my gaze. She looked terrified, yet a quiet determination still flickered in her dull eyes.

"What kind of person remains so calm while enduring such inhuman treatment?" I wondered.

"Yes, Your Highness," she answered softly. "I did."

Her voice held no fear, no excuses, and no attempt to justify herself—only the truth. My wolf had an uncanny instinct for lies. One look into someone's eyes was often enough to tell me whether they were speaking the truth.

Yet something about her eyes unsettled me. They weren't the eyes of a liar, but of someone who had endured far more suffering than anyone ever could.

I stepped closer to her, slow enough not to frighten her, yet close enough to study her expression. The bruises around her wrists were fresh, and dried blood clung to the corner of her lips. Up close, she looked even more fragile than she had from a distance.

"Why?" I asked quietly.

She blinked in surprise, as though she hadn't expected me to question her instead of condemning her.

"Why steal the bread?" I asked again.

A flicker of pain crossed her face before she lowered her gaze once more. "I... I was hungry, Your Highness." 

Her next words were barely above a whisper, "I hadn't eaten in three days."

The words hung heavily in the air, for a moment, no one spoke. Even the guards exchanged uneasy glances.

I slowly straightened before turning toward the Head Maid. "Answer me. Has she truly gone three days without food?"

The Head Maid's legs began shaking uncontrollably.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "She... she truly hasn't eaten in three days."

"Three days?" I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. "Tell me... can you survive three days without food?" 

She lowered her head, unable to answer. Then again, what answer had I expected from someone capable of starving a helpless girl for three days... only to brand her for stealing a single loaf of bread.

Slowly, I turned my gaze to the trembling Head Maid, "Do you know the punishment for abusing the authority the Crown entrusted to you?"

Her face drained of every trace of color. Fear rippled through the hallway and every head lowered to the ground.

The silence stretched unbearably. Every eye remained fixed on me, waiting for the judgment that would decide the Head Maid's fate.