Servant To The Crown の小説・ストーリー

, Pheia explained. “Hmm, that is why there are so few servants serving in here. As I observed even Lady Cristiana and Lady Rhina have only one personal servant each. Not at all like what every aristocrat should have. The Earl has limited power, and even if he has this vast land, when he has no workers to till it, then it would be of no use.”, Alani added. “Yes, it is indeed. As long as they are serving the king with loyalty then, they should neglect to have more people. As more people serving you mean more possible people to be your allies.”

His clothes were too expensive, his eyes, too malevolent. “Your Highness?” I turned with eyes full of tears; I had rubbed them with my sleeve to get that effect. Goldwork was a pretty scratchy material. “Y-yes...you came?” “You may call me Servitor Ignacio.” I nodded. Not a thrall, no, a servitor. That was top brass. “Servitor Ignacio, I would like to entrust the body of my poor uncle into your care.” “Yes, child of light. I know that the king is dead, but why—”

“I do not know what vulgar teachings you have learnt back in the main residence but things are different here my son, that servant is in no way obliged to listen to you neither is she obliged to carry out your orders seeing as you are not her owner. In this place, all of these servants listen to me and to me alone. You would do well you remember that fact. Just because you are the crown prince of the kingdom does not mean that you can go to just any where to exact the authority of that position. There are werewolves with more power than you can ever own that do not hold any title or prestige. Being the crown prince is use less when you are just the crown prince in name alone These servants a

“Not as a servant. Not as a woman. As mine.” The servant’s breath hitched. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The crown pressed against her hair, the throne beneath them cold and hard, and the princess’s warmth against her skin said everything. The princess tilted her chin up with one finger and kissed her slowly, tasting her own power on the servant’s lips. “Never forget where you kneel,” the princess whispered.

"The one that was hanging here yesterday. Where is it?" The servant in the corner of the room—the one who brought the scout in—steps forward nervously. "My lord, I believe it was taken down for cleaning. It should be returned shortly." "Cleaning?" I repeat, my voice rising. "Why wasn't I informed? Why wasn't it replaced immediately?" The servant stammers. "I... I apologize, my lord. I thought—" "You thought wrong!" I shout. "Do you have any idea who that woman is? She's the jewel of my conquest! The crown of my victory! Her beauty should be displayed everywhere—for everyone to see!"

Do you even realize how rare that is? “I’m just a servant." "Was a servant. His smile widens, cold as ice. Now you're my newest investment, and that royal blood of yours is going to earn its keep."

“Who goes with me?” Rhevan doesn’t hesitate. “We stay.” All three brothers nod, already shifting into command mode—logistics, cover stories, contingencies. Her eyes lift to me. I don’t look away. “We’re going.” Her brow creases. “You can’t. You’re Crown Lords.” “Yes,” Elowen says calmly. “Which is precisely why we must.” Soryn’s voice cuts in, low and lethal. “If a Crown Lord vanishes alone, it’s a scandal. If four move together, it’s a precedent.”

I looked toward the lower house door, where servants stood whispering with black feather burns still visible on some wrists. “They should be scared,” I said, because lies had hurt them worse than fear ever could. Rieka nodded, but her eyes remained on my face as if she were trying to decide whether to push further. “They are also waiting for you to take the crown, because servants feel safer when power finally has a face they trust.” The words tightened around my chest. A crown had become another cage waiting with polished bars. Blackfang had used Luna as a title to strip me. Northridge wanted "queen" as a title to place upon me.