"Is this my dinner?" I asked, my voice calm, though my fingers tightened around the fork, the metal pressing into my palm. I needed clarity.
I needed to understand. Was this a mistake? Or a deliberate act of humiliation orchestrated by Elias himself?
"Yes, my lady. Do you have an issue with this?" he retorted, his eyes narrowed, a clear challenge in his tone. He shifted his weight, his stance becoming subtly defiant.
The air in the dining hall seemed to thicken, a few nearby bodyguards shifting imperceptibly, their attention now fully on our exchange.
The silence grew heavy, amplifying the tension. The test had begun, and it was far more direct and personal than I had anticipated. My response would set the tone.
My gaze remained fixed on the young servant, ignoring his insolent question. My mind raced, weighing his impertinence against the utter disrespect of the meal. This wasn't merely a servant's mistake; this was a message. And I had to respond in kind.
"Do I have an issue?" I repeated, my voice still dangerously calm, each word precisely enunciated, dripping with the veiled accusation I intended. "Tell me, is the Bloodmoon Pack so poor, then? So low on resources that this is all you can afford to feed a guest of my standing?"
I let the implication hang in the air, thick and heavy, a direct challenge to their pride. "Perhaps the hunt has been poor of late? Or are your stores empty?"
The boy flinched as if struck, his body recoiling slightly. His pale face flushed crimson, and his eyes, which had been wide with apprehension, now hardened with a sudden, fierce pride. "No!" he practically barked, his voice cracking with indignant fury.
It was the first time he had truly met my gaze, and the raw emotion in them surprised me. "The Bloodmoon Pack is rich! Our lands are fertile, our hunts are bountiful! We don't starve like common rogues!"
His words hit me with the force of a physical blow. He thought I was implying they were weak, common, even beggarly. His offense was genuine, a deep-seated pride in his Pack.
It was a surprising reaction, one that revealed a facet of the Bloodmoon people I hadn't expected a fierce, almost defensive loyalty to their standing, a volatile pride that flared at perceived insult.
"Then why," I continued, pressing my advantage, my voice still dangerously calm, "am I presented with such sustenance? In my Sect, we understand that a guest's meal reflects the host's respect. As Elias's Luna to be, I simply seek clarification. Is this truly what the Alpha deems appropriate for his future Luna?" My words were carefully chosen to sting, to challenge, to force a response. I used their own principles of honor and hospitality against them.
The boy opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, his gaze flicking desperately to Aaron. He knew he'd said too much, revealed too much of his raw emotions. He was caught, exposed, between a direct insult to his Alpha's standing and my pointed accusation.
Aaron finally stirred, his voice smooth and neutral, utterly devoid of any hint of surprise or concern. "The kitchen prepares the meals, Lady Seraphina. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding. I assure you, the Bloodmoon Pack is prosperous." His words were polite, professional, but his eyes held a subtle, unreadable glint. He was playing innocent, pretending this was a simple mistake.
He was protecting the lie, protecting the insult. This was a calculated move, not an oversight. Elias himself must be behind this, or at the very least, condoning it through his deliberate absence.
My anger flared, hot and sharp. This was worse than I thought. It wasn't just a rude servant it was a systemic disrespect, sanctioned from above.
"Indeed," I said, my voice now cold, flat. I reached for the heavy silver cover and, with a deliberate, slow motion, replaced it over the bowl of gruel. The dull clank of metal on metal was loud in the sudden silence of the hall. "Then I shall consider this a unique custom. You may take it away."
The boy, still red-faced and clearly distressed, looked at Aaron, who gave him a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. He quickly scooped up the tray and practically fled the dining hall, clearly eager to escape my presence.
Aaron remained, his posture perfect, his expression unchanging. "Is there anything else you require, Lady Seraphina?" His tone was polite, his gaze unwavering, but I felt the challenge in his stillness, the subtle test of my composure and resilience.
"Only my privacy," I replied, meeting his gaze directly, a silent battle of wills playing out across the vast table. My eyes held his, conveying a defiance I knew he understood.
"Then I shall escort you back to your chambers" He said.
I stood up following him with Lara right behind me.
"Thank you" I said the moment we got to my chambers.
He inclined his head slightly. "Of course. Rest well." He shut the door behind us and then he was gone, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall, leaving Lara and me alone.
The moment Aaron's footsteps faded, Lara rushed to me, her small hands hovering, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and deep distress. "My lady, what was that? Why did he bring you that? It looked dreadful!"
My carefully constructed composure, maintained only by sheer force of will throughout the meal, finally fractured.
"That insolent boy, You call that food! Outrageous, Lara! A blatant insult, a humiliation designed to break me!" I began to pace, my movements sharp, agitated, unable to contain the surge of fury that had been building.
"Scraps? Food fit for dogs! And Elias! His absence speaks volumes. He clearly finds the daughter of the Sect repulsive. He's hiding, sending his subordinates to do his dirty work, to belittle me!" The thought twisted in my gut, mixing anger with a raw, unfamiliar sting of personal offense. He saw me as beneath him, a tainted outsider, and he was using his entire Pack to enforce that judgment.
"Yes my lady" Lara said "In the sect those were giving to the horse even"
"Right!" I said even more annoyed. I hated this place. Dammit.
My stomach grumble.
"I'll get the snack my lady" Lara said chuckling.