Chapter Twenty

CLOSE ENOUGH

Mila (Erwin)

Voices reached my ears before my eyes opened.

“Keep him here.”

“Yes, my lord.”

My body felt heavy. The ground beneath me was not the floor of the servant quarters. The air smelled cleaner and sharper. I opened my eyes slowly.

A guard stood near the door. Another leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Where am I?” the question came out rough.

The guard closest to me straightened. “You’re awake.”

“I asked where I am.”

“East wing,” he said. “Temporary holding room.”

Holding.

I pushed myself up and felt the pain in my shoulder flare. Teeth clenched before any sound escaped. The mark burned, then settled again, like it was waiting.

“Why am I here?” I asked.

“You were reassigned,” the guard replied.

“Reassigned?” I repeated. “By who?”

Before he could answer, the door opened.

Lucien entered.

The room went quiet.

“My lord,” both guards said at once, bowing.

“Leave us,” he ordered.

They hesitated, then obeyed. The door closed behind them.

Silence filled the room. My heart started beating faster, and I hated that it did.

“What is this?” I demanded. “Why am I here?”

He looked tired. His hand rested on his cane, grip tight.

“You collapsed,” he said. “You needed oversight.”

“I did not ask for it.”

“You were not in a position to ask.”

My anger rose fast. “I am a servant. You had no right to move me like this.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “Lower your voice.”

“No,” I said. “Explain.”

He took a breath. “You are under my authority for now.”

“For now?” I laughed once. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“You will be stationed closer to the castle,” he said. “You will assist when needed. You will be watched.”

“I don’t need watching.”

“You collapsed,” he repeated.

“So have others,” I snapped. “They weren’t dragged here.”

His jaw tightened. “Enough.”

The pain in my shoulder surged and my hand moved there without thinking.

He noticed.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, dropping my hand. “Send me back.”

“No.”

The word landed hard.

“This decision is final,” he added.

I stared at him, searching his face for reason. For guilt. For anything.

“You’re doing this because you pity me,” I said.

“That is not true.”

“Then why?” I asked. “Why me?”

Silence followed.

“I need reliable people close,” he said finally. “That is all.”

I wanted to argue more. I wanted to scream. But my chest felt tight, and the pain had faded the longer he stood there.

That scared me.

“…Fine,” I muttered. “Do whatever you want.”

His eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again. “You will keep discipline.”

“I know how to behave,” I replied.

He nodded once and turned to leave.

The moment the door closed, the pain returned.

A servant showed me the small room later. It was clean. Too clean. With a bed, a table and a small window.

“This is close to the prince’s chambers,” the servant said. “You’ll respond when called.”

“Yes,” I answered.

He looked me over. “Strange choice.”

“What is?”

“You,” he said, and then left.

The hours dragged. Every step I took sent sparks through my shoulder until I stopped thinking about it and focused on posture. Shoulders straight. Chin down. Walk like a man.

The guards watched me more closely here.

One stopped me near the corridor. “You don’t look strong enough for this post.”

“I do my work,” I replied.

He snorted. “We’ll see.”

Dinner came fast. I ate in the servant hall, head down, quiet as always.

Whispers floated around me.

“Did you hear?”

“The prince pulled one of Marge’s boys.”

“Why him?”

“He looks sick.”

“Maybe that’s what the prince likes.”

Laughter followed.

My grip tightened on the spoon.

A guard joined the table nearby. “Orders came from the prince himself.”

“Seriously?” a servant asked.

“Yes,” the guard said. “Direct command.”

“That doesn’t happen.”

“It did.”

Another voice lowered. “Maybe the boy knows something.”

“Or maybe he’s just useful,” someone laughed.

The pain burned again, sharp and sudden.

I stood up. “I’m done.”

No one stopped me.

As I left, two guards whispered behind me.

“Watch him.”

“Yeah,” the other said, laughing softly. “Let’s see how long he lasts under the prince’s shadow.”

“Did you see his face?”

“He thinks he belongs here now.”

I stopped walking.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. My chest tightened. For a moment, turning back felt easy. One step. One word. One swing.

“Say it again,” I almost said.

My body leaned forward before my mind caught up.

No.

I forced my feet to move. The corridor felt longer as I walked away. Each step was slow, controlled. Guards watched me pass, their eyes sharp and curious.

“Easy,” I whispered to myself. “Just walk.”

The air outside the hall felt cooler. I stopped near the stone railing and breathed in slowly. The mark on my shoulder burned, then settled again.

Footsteps approached.

“Hey,” a young servant said quietly. “You alright?”

“Yes,” I answered without looking at him.

“They shouldn’t talk like that,” he muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It never does.”

He hesitated. “You’re close to the prince now.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

He nodded and walked away.

Then suddenly a sign of movement  in the courtyard caught my eye.

A small group stood near the fountain and Lucien stood among them.

My heart skipped before I could stop it.

Beside him was a woman.

She wore a simple dress, pale in color. Her hands were folded in front of her. Her head bowed slightly as he spoke to another noble. She did not interrupt. She did not fidget.

She listened.

“She looks calm,” I whispered.

The pain in my shoulder stirred.

I stayed where I was, half hidden behind the stone pillar. No one noticed me. That was how it always was.

The woman lifted her head when Lucien turned toward her.

“Yes, my lord,” she said softly.

Her voice carried even from a distance.

“Stay here,” Lucien replied.

She nodded again. “Of course.”

No fear. No hesitation.

“She fits,” I thought.

A servant joined another nearby. Their voices drifted over.

“That’s her,” one said.

“The bride?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Irene,” the other replied. “From the southern quarter.”

“I heard she agreed without complaint.”

“She’s obedient,” the servant said. “Perfect choice.”

My stomach twisted.

“She knew what she was agreeing to,” I told myself. “This is her path.”

Lucien stepped away briefly. A noble woman spoke to Irene. She smiled politely. Her posture did not change.

“She knows her place,” I thought.

And that was the problem.

There was no anger in me toward her. No hatred. She had done nothing wrong.

But the pain grew stronger as Lucien returned to her side. It burned, then calmed again when he stood close to her.

“No,” I whispered. “This shouldn’t happen.”

“I don’t belong there,” I told myself. “I never did.”

A guard walked past me. “Why are you standing here?”

“I was told to wait,” I replied.

“Don’t stare,” he warned. “That’s the prince.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

That night, the room felt too small. The window was shut and the candle flickered.

I sat on the bed and rubbed my shoulder. The mark pulsed under my fingers.

“Stop,” I whispered. “Just stop.”

But the pain did not listen.

It surged suddenly, sharp enough to force a cry from my throat.

I fell forward, gripping the bed.

“No,” I said again. “Please.”

I gasped and pressed my palm to the mark. The skin felt tight.

“This is different,” I whispered.