Chapter 7: Wild and Romping

Chapter 7: Wild and Romping

The next morning, Amaris found herself knee-deep in the laundry yard, surrounded by the soft morning light. The palace, though grand and imposing, seemed smaller in this secluded corner. Beside her was Rosalind working quietly while her delicate hands scrubbing at the fabric, and for the first time, Amaris felt a small sense of comfort, knowing she wasn't alone in her task.

"I cannot say I have ever imagined myself in such a position," Rosalind remarked, her voice light despite the effort. "A Beaumont washing linens... it seems the world has turned on its head."

Amaris smirked, wringing out a sheet. "Welcome to my life, Rosalind. Though, I'd say you're handling it a lot better than I would've expected."

Rosalind smiled softly, her posture still dignified despite the task. "It is far from the life I once knew, yet... I find solace in knowing I am not alone in this ordeal."

Amaris nodded, grateful for her calm presence. "Yeah, well, as long as we stick together, it should be easier to get through... this... whatever this is."

Rosalind glanced at her with a hint of curiosity. "You speak in such a curious manner, Amaris. I find it quite amusing, though I often struggle to understand your expressions."

Amaris chuckled and murmured to herself. "That's because I'm not from around here." She shook her head, scrubbing harder at the fabric. 

"But anyway, trust me, if I can get us out of this mess, I will. Just don't fall for any kingly charms."

Rosalind blushed slightly but smiled. "I have no such intentions. His Majesty... he is rather frightening."

"Good," Amaris said, giving her a teasing look. "Stay far away from him."

But before she could continue, the sound of footsteps and the unmistakable presence of authority caused Amaris to stiffen. Slowly, she looked up and saw him.

King Alaric stood before them, his gaze sharp, the light of the rising sun catching the glint of his mismatched eyes. His royal attire, dark and opulent, contrasted the simplicity of their surroundings, and he seemed out of place in the laundry yard, but his commanding presence filled the space entirely.

"Ah, what a sight to see," Alaric spoke, his voice laced with formality, though there was an air of amusement to it. His eyes lingered on Rosalind before settling on Amaris. "It is a curious sight to find the daughter of a duke and her... companion, so diligently at work."

Rosalind lowered her head, her tone steady but respectful. "Your Majesty, we serve as instructed."

Alaric's lips curved into a slight smile, though his gaze remained fixed on Amaris. "And you, servant... I trust you find these duties fitting?"

Amaris met his gaze with an annoyed stare, not even trying to hide her disdain. "Yeah, totally fitting. Laundry really brings out the best in me."

Alaric's eyebrow arched at her insolence, but instead of anger, he seemed entertained. "Your spirit is rather unusual for one in your position."

Amaris shrugged. "Guess I'm just special like that."

The king chuckled in a deep sound that made Rosalind shift uncomfortably. "Indeed. Special... or foolish." His gaze swept over them once more before he turned to leave. "Carry on with your duties."

As he walked away, Amaris let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Rosalind glanced at her, concern written across her features.

"You ought to be more careful," she whispered. "He is not a man who tolerates insolence lightly."

Amaris gave a small, mischievous smile. "Yeah, I know. But someone's got to keep him in check," she grumbled, her tone light yet annoyed, as she abruptly lifted her skirt up to mid-thigh.

Rosalind gasped, clearly startled by the unseemly action. 

"What are you doing? Put your skirt down this instant! It is improper and entirely unladylike!" she hissed in a panicked whisper, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Amaris rolled her eyes, "But it'll get wet! I'm doing laundry, for Christ's sake!" She spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, irritation lining her voice.

Rosalind blinked in confusion. "Whatever are you trying to say? A no is a no!" Her words stumbled over themselves, flustered and shocked. 

"Pull your skirt down, you—you wild, romping girl!" she exclaimed, her face now fully red as she noticed Amaris' flawless skin, smooth and without the roughness that came from heavy work.

Servants typically had calloused hands and tanned skin from the sun, yet here was Amaris—her skin untouched by the usual labors, something completely unusual for someone of her status. The sight clearly unnerved Rosalind, but she couldn't help but stare in bewilderment.

Unbeknownst to them, Alaric stood not too far away, his gaze frozen on the scene. He wasn't accustomed to such bold and improper behavior, and yet, there she was—this peculiar woman who dared defy every rule of decorum with a carefree attitude that intrigued him more than it should have.

Amaris, still stubbornly holding her skirt up, suddenly felt the weight of eyes on her. Her head turned slightly, and her gaze locked with Alaric's. He stood rooted with an unreadable expression, and she could tell he was not used to seeing a servant woman act so boldly.

"Great," she muttered to herself under her breath, realizing she'd been caught yet again, "just what I needed—his royal highness witnessing me breaking another rule."

Rosalind, still exasperated, continued her flustered lecture, "You never learn! I swear, Amaris, I will smack you!"

Amaris rolled her eyes, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Fine... fiiine!" she finally relented, letting go of her skirt with a dramatic huff. As she stood up straight, her gaze locked onto Alaric, who was still standing there, watching them both. Without realizing it, she shot him a fierce glare, which—much to her surprise—seemed to unsettle him, his stern expression softening with a flicker of surprise.

Clearly misinterpreting the situation, Amaris scoffed, thinking Alaric was staring at Rosalind. "Let's hang these fabrics already," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with irritation. She grabbed the linens and walked over to hang them, acting as though she hadn't just glared at a king. Rosalind, meanwhile, still completely unaware of Alaric's presence, blinked at her in confusion.

The sudden shift in Amaris's attitude left Alaric momentarily flustered. He wasn't used to anyone daring to look him in the eye like that, much less a servant woman. His brow twitched slightly as he watched her turn away, utterly unimpressed by his presence. There was something about her boldness that intrigued him—something defiant, even amusing. Still, the interaction left him standing there in mild disbelief, as if he'd been caught off guard by the very thing he was meant to command.

As the two women busied themselves with their tasks, Alaric's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he finally turned on his heel and walked away while a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.