Chapter 5: Curious

Veya’s POV

Since the incident in the forest a week ago, King Rael had rarely been seen. I could count on one hand the times he’d visited the southern pavilion. Even when he did appear for dinner, it was only to command me to pour wine into his glass.

I knew my place here—a slave had no right to ask questions. How could I ever dare to ask what he truly meant when he gave me that necklace?

At least my life had grown more orderly since I moved to the southern pavilion. Liora was sharp-tongued, but she never looked down on me.

She had told the other servants that my status as a slave didn’t give them the right to trample over me. Her words had left a strange warmth in my heart.

Today, the kitchen was far busier than usual. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, melted butter, and wine simmering in iron pots.

“Tonight, nobles from across the entire continent of Vargravia will be here,” she murmured to me while spooning sauce over a plate of roasted lamb. “Wealthy werewolves, lycans of noble blood, and a few royal envoys. So keep your manners in check.”

I nodded once. “Understood.”

Liora is pointing to a tall stack of plates. “In that case, take the tableware to the front hall.”

I carried them out and arranged them neatly on the long dining table. When I returned to the kitchen, I caught the low hum of gossip among the female servants.

“Tonight’s a full moon. You know what that means, right?”

“The most dangerous time for the Lycan King.”

“Let’s just hope nothing foolish happens to trigger him tonight.”

I didn’t get the chance to ask them what they meant. Liora’s voice rang out from the far end of the kitchen, cutting sharply through the clatter of frying pans and the hiss of boiling water.

Night descended slowly, draping the palace in silver moonlight. I wore a plain, long white gown with full sleeves and a high neck. Simple, but clean.

My duty tonight was to deliver dishes to the palace dining hall. I walked in step with the other servants down the cold stone corridors.

Laughter from the nobles echoed ahead, mingling with the chime of clinking glasses. They were a flamboyant sight. Some were wrapped in extravagant cloaks made from the hides of wild beasts.

Balancing a tray of wine and smoked meat, I moved carefully, determined not to draw attention, until I felt it. A sly, lingering stare from one of the nobles.

“The palace serves such tempting dishes, even the servants.” His hand nearly brushed my waist before another noble caught his wrist and yanked it back.

“Are you insane? Don’t cause trouble in the King’s hall.”

I pretended not to hear and left the dining hall quickly, not once looking back.

***

I returned to the wine storage to fetch an extra bottle, just as Liora had asked. But the moment I stepped inside, I sensed someone else had entered.

I turned, and there he was. The same blond noble who’d spat vile words at me in the dining hall earlier. Up close, he looked young, though faint lines had settled around his eyes.

“The King’s slave, aren’t you?” His rasping voice made my pulse jolt.

I lowered my gaze in polite formality. “I’m a servant.”

He moved closer, his breath reeking of wine. “Don’t pretend to be pure, palace whore. Do you think we don’t know your real duties in the King’s bed?”

I bit my lip, forcing myself to swallow the discomfort crawling up my spine. “I’m just a servant here. And I’m not permitted to answer questions like that.”

His coarse laughter ricocheted off the walls. In a heartbeat, his rough hand seized my arm and shoved me against the wooden wall. “Come on, just a moment. I promise you’ll be well rewarded if you make me happy.”

I cried out for help. And he only laughed louder, his face twisting into a mocking grin.

My fingers tightened around the wine bottle, holding it to shield myself from his touch. My breath came shallow, and my heart hammered hard enough to hurt.

I don’t know where the courage came from, but my body moved before I could think. My right hand swung the bottle with all my strength, smashing it against his head. The crack of glass and bone was deafening.

The nobleman staggered back. Wine and blood dripped together down his temple.

“Filthy whore!” He groaned, then glared at me with eyes blazing in fury.

Before I could run, he slammed me into the wine cabinet. Pain shot up my spine as the sharp wood bit into my back. His hand reached for my hair, but a deep growl froze him in place.

“Take your filthy hands off what’s mine.”

I turned toward the doorway, and my heart nearly stopped.

The King stood there, framed in the entrance. His eyes, usually a burnished gold, blazed crimson like fresh blood.