"She will serve me personally"
My hand froze halfway to my phone. I lifted my head sharply, meeting his gaze. He was still looking at me, eyes roaming over me with lazy interest, as if the chaos around us did not exist.
The murmurs swelled, loud enough to deafen anyone.
"Impossible, my King."
"You would take in an assassin to serve you?"
"What if she slits your throat at night?"
I rolled my eyes inwardly. Seriously, is that all people do in this world? Slit throats? What was it with this obsession over assassins?
"She must be executed."
"She will be the death of you, my King."
The voices overlapped, rising and falling, but the King paid them no attention. His gaze never left me.
"My King, she will slit your throat," someone shouted.
"Well," he said, clearly amused, "she is welcome."
My breath caught. I could only stare at him. He had lifted his hand from his chin, sat up straight, and was now rising. Black tailored pants clung to his form, his robe still wide open. This was sin—I should look away. Damn, I should, yet I couldn't.
I watched him descend the stairs. With every step, my heartbeat spiked. I should run, run far from him, but I knew I couldn't. This man had declared I would serve him—better than execution, at least. Confused as I was, survival came first. Only then could I even think about going back.
What I couldn't understand was why he spared my life. Did he know? That I was his workaholic P.A?
He took another step, and my eyes widened. Wait—why was he coming closer? Kings didn't come down; they stayed up. He wasn't supposed to.
My breath hitched. The throne room fell silent and all I could hear was the drum of my own heartbeat.
Then the people around me stirred, breaking the silence. The guards shifted, the others dropped to their knees. I didn't move, couldn't move. My knees threatened to buckle, but I stayed rooted, watching as he walked toward me with perfect, deliberate grace.
His hands rested behind his back, shoulders squared. His eyes were calm, but stern.
Isabel, stop staring. Bow. Do something. This man is a king, not your boss. Bow.
But I remained frozen, until he paused directly in front of me.
His gaze narrowed, piercing into mine.
"Boss," I said, my voice trembling.
"Bosse?" he tried to pronounce, one eyebrow raised.
I shook my head quickly and bowed slightly. "I'm so… sorry, Your Majesty. Forgive me. I swear I'm no spy. I don't even know what I'm doing here." My heart thudded so loudly, I thought he might hear it.
He could have stayed on his throne, but now that he was close, every breath felt like it left me. I wanted to stay away, to put distance between us—but his presence made me want to lean in.
"Look up."
Two simple words yet heavy with command. Slowly, I lifted my eyes, it was sinfully close. His gaze was darker than I remembered, lashes thick, and he seemed to be searching my face.
"You do not behave like a trained spy."
I clapped my hand together to concur, forgetting where I was. All I could think of was a man who believed me...until he added,
"But you cannot be trusted."
Huh. Then why keep me close? His eyes drifted to the bag I clutched, my hand paused inside it. The cold metal of my phone pressed against me, yet I didn't know if I should bring it out.
"Who are you?"
I blinked. If I spoke the truth, would he believe me?
"My name's Isabel."
"Isabel," he drawled my name, and damn, why did it sound so good on his tongue?
"Yes… boss. Sorry, Your Majesty."
His gaze sharpened. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Well, where I come from, we call our superior boss."
He nodded, his eyes still keen. "And where do you come from?"
My lips parted, my toes curled, I wanted to tell him, I really did. But the words refused to come. No matter what I said, he would laugh it off. He would never believe me.
When I stayed silent, he stepped back, his gaze sweeping over me with boredom before he pointed at one of the guards. "Search that thing."
Huh? My bag?
"Wait, wait, I need to.."
Before the guards could reach me, I stepped back and pulled out my phone. The room gasped, but I ignored them. I need to call Christina, my best friend. I need to…
I stopped. On the screen was only a picture of Christina and me, there was no signal. Nothing. The internet connection was dead to the bottom.
"Shit," I muttered, and murmurs rippled through the room.
I looked up. The King stared at me strangely, his gaze drifting from my face to the phone in my hand and a frown creased his handsome features.
"She has a weapon," someone shouted. I wanted to roll my eyes, but fear held me still.
There was no signal, no way back. The truth crashed down on me, and the first tear slipped down my cheek.
Was this my life now? God, please let this be a dream. I had a family, friends, people I loved. I had a life. I could not stay here, not as the King's maid, not serving a man who was once my boss and did not even remember me. I could not live here.
"Seize her", someone said.
My eyes stayed fixed on the ground, so I didn't even see who said it, but I felt a hand grab my bag, and when they reached for the phone in my hand, I clutched it with every last ounce of strength.
Without looking up, I whispered, "Please, let me keep this one thing." My voice betrayed me. Either they didn't hear, or the hands were too strong, because the phone was snatched away.
Now I stood empty, nothing in my hands with tears streaming down my cheeks and boots on my feet. Soon, they would strip me of even that, leaving me in a maiden's clothes.
"Take her to the quarters," the King commanded.
His voice pulled me up. I raised my head without meaning to, tears still running, but I didn't care. Harry Hulk would never have stood there if he saw me crying. He would have looked away—or walked away. But this man… he stared at me strangely, and I ached to know him. Was he different from Harry Hulk?
"Take a rest," he said, clearing his throat and looking away. "You start tomorrow."
My shoulders slumped as one of the guards took my hand and began dragging me from the throne room. The click of my boots on the hallway echoed in the silence. I couldn't even hear my own breathing.
Oh, Christi? When the chaotic world of suits and ties drained me, she would take me out for ice cream or stay perched on the bed, urging me to watch Netflix while she ordered pizza. She had been my best friend since school, and I knew that if I could call her right now, she would come—but how?
I squeezed my eyes shut as the guard kept pulling me along, until a loud knock made me snap them open. I had expected the office, but we stopped in front of a wooden door. A girl in a white-and-black maid suit stepped out.
Her hair was short and neatly trimmed. Dark, cat-like eyes scanned the guards before landing on me. Just like everyone else, her lips parted as she took in my strange attire.
"Help her change," the guard ordered, shoving me forward. I hid the glare I wanted to throw at him. "She will work for the King starting tomorrow."
"Of course" the maid said, bowing slightly before the guards left.
"My name is Matilda," she smiled, still distracted by my dress, she caught me looking and shook her head, stifling a laugh, "Forgive me my dear, I have never met anyone in the whole of Netherfield dressed this way"
A small smile creased my face, she appeared friendly, maybe I could like her
"Forgive me, you must be so exhausted looking at the bags under your eyes," she bit her lips, damn she was blunt but I loved it
"Yup," I nodded
She blinked, catching the strange word, "Well, come with me, let me take you to your bed"
Heavens, at least I could get some sleep right now, it would be my only escape from this new world
"What is your name?" she asked as she led me through a small hallway, housing many doors and lit with perched lanterns on the wall, they must each lead to every maiden's room
"Isabel," I answered, looking around me.
She paused at a door and opened it. Inside was a single bed, a small window, and a little bedside table with cloth linen—perhaps my new clothes.
"This is your room," she said, then pointed to the opposite side. "That is mine. Come to me if you need anything."
I nodded.
She still stood there, smiling at me. If she was the head maiden, she must be young for the role—and nice. Head maidens from all the historical stories I had read were never nice.
"I will leave you to your hair," she said, bowing slightly, then turned toward her own room. I paused her.
"Can I have a shower?"
She blinked at me. Right, shower was the wrong word.
"Sorry, I mean I need a bath, water to pour over my body...I'm covered in sweat."
These modern slangs, I've got to stop using them if I want these people to understand me. She seemed not to understand, her eyes widening.
"My dear, one does not bathe at such an hour if you are a maiden. We are fortunate to bathe once," she said.
No, I can't bathe just once. What does she mean? A frown appeared on my face. "If I don't shower, I will smell of sweat and won't be able to sleep."
She didn't seem to understand all my words, but when she noticed how my eyes blinked, she nodded. She walked to the edge of the wall and pulled out a lantern. The light illuminated her face, making her dark hair sleek and smooth.
"There is a lake at the edge of the fence. It is mostly quiet at this hour. I will watch out for you while you bathe quickly," she said.
I nodded, already ready to dash forward, when she pointed at the linen.
"You will need a change of clothes. You have to walk in your maiden cloth afterward, or the guards will mistake you for a threat."
Ah, the talk about spies again. I nodded, grabbed the linen, and began following her. She was doing so much to help me tonight, so I had to follow her every word if I wanted to survive in this place.