Chapter 2

Snow snapped to full alertness, and her back was drenched in cold sweat.

With great effort, she forced herself upright and spoke in a weak, trembling voice. “The fever has clouded my mind, and I was speaking without sense. I believed myself so ill that I thought I might not survive.”

Aleron regarded her coldly before giving a dismissive scoff. “You appear perfectly well to me.”

With those words, he turned and departed once more.

The instant the door closed behind him, Ametsa’s composure vanished. “How dare you seduce His Majesty?! I’ll kill you!”

She rushed toward Snow, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her against the bedpost.

The sudden attack left her senses reeling. She wished to defend herself, yet her body would not obey her. Even the simple act of raising her hand seemed beyond her strength.

Ametsa’s slaps landed on her face in furious fervor, and her nails scratched her face.

“Do you truly imagine His Majesty cares for you? You are nothing more than a toy to him!” She kicked her in the chest.

The pain became too much to bear. Snow’s vision darkened, and she slipped once more into unconsciousness.

When she next awoke, the first thing she heard was the sound of desperate cries rising from the courtyard below.

“Your Majesty, I have realized my error! I shall never repeat it. Please, show mercy!”

Snow forced herself from the bed and made her way toward the window. She saw Ametsa bound to a bench outside while two servants whipped her.

Her rear was a bloody mess, and her cries became weaker.

Aleron stood apart from the others, his hands clasped behind his back. The wind stirred the folds of his robes, yet he remained as unmoving as a statue.

When he noticed her gaze, he turned to see Snow standing by the window. The faintest trace of disdain appeared in his eyes. “You truly are useless.”

He entered the chamber and looked upon her with displeasure. “Why did you not speak when you were treated in such a manner?”

Snow lowered herself into a deep curtsy. “My apologies.”

Aleron grabbed her chin and raised her head to look at him. “Remember your place. You are a toy the Lakefields have placed in my possession. Aside from myself, no one is permitted to harm you.”

“As you will,” Snow said softly, but she felt a chill settle within her heart.

She knew it. He did not wish to lose the toy he used whenever he required an outlet for his anger.

Seeing that she was no longer in immediate danger, Aleron turned away. “Come with me. You shall attend to me in my study.”

Snow followed him and carefully gathered the writing instruments and books he requested.

But the injury upon her hand reopened, and a drop of blood fell upon the parchment.

Aleron’s brow furrowed.

With a flicker of displeasure, he threw a small packet of ointment toward her forehead.

Smack!

“Leave! To think that you cannot even carry out such simple instructions! You are truly useless.”

The ointment pack had left a red mark on her forehead before falling to the floor.

She picked it up silently.

“You will not come to my chambers for the next two days,” Aleron continued. “Instead, you shall oversee the preparations for the Harvest Festival banquet. If you make even the slightest mistake, I shall have you executed.”

“As Your Majesty commands.” Cradling her aching forehead, Snow bowed and withdrew.

After applying the ointment and tending to the injury upon her hand, she devoted herself entirely to the preparations for the banquet.

It was not long before Emmanuel approached her. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Do not be troubled, Miss Snow. His Majesty asked you to prepare for the banquet because he has taken notice of the injury to your hand. Had he truly been displeased with you, he would not have spared you so easily.”

“You jest, Mr. Jefferson,” Snow whispered and shook her head.

Aleron had never shown her anything but resentment. How could he possibly pity her?

He had merely sent her away because he could not tolerate her carelessness.

Seeing that she remained unconvinced, Emmanuel could only sigh and leave the matter alone.

Two days passed, and at last the evening of the Harvest Festival banquet arrived.

The court officials entered the hall accompanied by their wives, each taking their appointed places.

Among them were Verde and William Tavron, her husband and the fourth prince.

They arrived together with their hands joined, and their affection for one another apparent to all who witnessed it.

When they had taken their seats, William gently smoothed the folds of Verde’s gown. Their devotion was so evident that even those who looked upon them could not help but admire it.

“Announcing the arrival of His Majesty, King Aleron!” Emmanuel’s voice rang throughout the hall, and every person present immediately rose to bow before the King.

Snow followed behind Aleron.

Though his expression remained as composed and unreadable as ever, and though he carried himself with complete ease, Snow sensed that his attention rested elsewhere. His gaze had fallen upon Verde and William.

He was jealous. Yet he concealed it perfectly.

The banquet proceeded without incident, but as the evening continued, Aleron’s mood appeared to grow increasingly colder.

Then, without warning, he drew Snow toward him.

A wave of panic rose within her. When he tore her garments without restraint, she immediately understood his intention.

“Your Majesty…” she whispered in a trembling voice. “Not here…”