Chapter 20 Wen
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Wen
A week in Lytopia and I was starting to get the hang of things.
Which was not the same as saying I liked it here. Or that I’d forgiven Mal for kidnapping me. Or that I wasn’t constantly plotting ways to strangle him with my bare hands.
But I’d figured out the basics. The castle layout. The meal times. Which nobles were allies and which ones looked at me with thinly veiled contempt. How to avoid getting lost in the endless stone corridors that all looked exactly the same.
By now, everyone knew there was a human amongst them.
The secret had lasted approximately twelve hours before the gossip spread through the castle faster than wildfire.
But no one knew why I was here. Mal and Aurion had crafted a careful story: I’d come through the portal, Mal had met me in the human realm, and now I was just some random girl he’d brought back.
No mention of mates. No mention of bonds. No mention of the fact that my neck still had his claiming mark hidden under high-collared dresses.
We’d kept that secret locked down tight.
Because apparently, my scent had cleared enough over the past week that I no longer reeked of “mated wolf king” to anyone who got close.
The bond was there, pulsing between us constantly, but externally there was no evidence we were anything more than acquaintances.
They’d decided it was safer that way. With Andreas still stirring up trouble and the nobles watching Mal’s every move, admitting he’d bonded with a human would give his enemies ammunition. Proof that he’d gone soft. Proof that he cared more about his mate than his duties.
So we pretended. We lied. We kept our distance in public.
And I pretended to be his servant.
His fucking servant.
The official story was that I helped out around his chambers to justify why I came and went so often from the royal wing. Because apparently, a random human girl hanging around the king’s rooms would be suspicious, but a random human girl who cleaned his rooms and fetched his meals? Totally normal.
I hated it. Hated the charade. Hated bowing my head when nobles passed. Hated the way people dismissed me as beneath their notice.
But most of all, I hated having to turn a blind eye every time that woman made a move on Mal.
Amaia.
She’d been fluttering around him constantly since that first day. Touching his arm. Laughing too loudly at things that weren’t funny. Sitting too close at meals. Making it abundantly clear to everyone in the castle that she considered herself his future queen.
And I had to stand there and watch. Had to pretend I didn’t care. Had to swallow my rage and jealousy and the urge to physically remove her perfectly manicured hands from my mate.
I was so tired. Exhausted from the constant act. From biting my tongue. From pretending Mal and I were nothing to each other when the bond between us screamed otherwise.
But Andreas was the reason we couldn’t drop the act. He’d kept spewing poison about Mal ever since the challenge. Gathering supporters. Planting seeds of doubt about Mal’s fitness to rule. Building a case that Mal had abandoned the kingdom and couldn’t be trusted.
We couldn’t accuse him outright. Couldn’t call him out without proof. Because if we did, the council would turn on Mal. Would see it as paranoia or weakness or desperation.
We had to play carefully. Wait for Andreas to make a mistake. Gather evidence of his treachery before we struck.
Which is why I was standing in the formal dining room right now, pouring water into Aurion’s goblet while he tried not to laugh at my servant act.
Asshole.
“More water, Your Majesty?” I asked with exaggerated deference.
His lips twitched. “Yes, thank you. You are too kind.”
I wanted to dump the entire pitcher over his head. Through the bond, I felt Mal’s amusement even though he wasn’t here yet. He was running late from some council meeting, which meant I had to endure this dinner without him.
And she was here.
Amaia sat at the long table with several other nobles, laughing at something one of them said. Her red hair was styled elaborately. Her dress was cut low enough to be borderline inappropriate. Her eyes kept darting to the empty seat at the head of the table.
Mal’s seat.
I tried to ignore her as I moved around the room, refilling goblets and pretending to be useful. Tried not to watch as she stood gracefully and walked to the table, settling herself in the seat next to Mal’s.
The seat where I should be sitting.
The seat reserved for his queen.
My hands clenched around the water pitcher. Through the bond, I felt Mal’s spike of irritation. He’d just entered the castle and was heading this way. Good. Maybe he’d tell her to move.
“You, human, come here.”
Amaia’s voice cut through the low conversation. Every head turned to look at me.
I tensed. Shared a look with Aurion across the room. He subtly shook his head. A warning. Don’t engage. Don’t react. Keep up the act.
“You, human. I am speaking to you.”
I walked over slowly. Kept my expression neutral even though I wanted to snarl. “Yes, my lady?”
“Water.” She held out her goblet without looking at me. Dismissed me with her tone.
I poured the water. Kept my hands steady through sheer force of will.
She took a sip. Set the goblet down. Then turned to look at me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“So you are the whore he is keeping in his rooms, are you not?”
The room went silent.
I was clenching my teeth so hard I feared I’d crack them. My hand tightened on the pitcher handle until my knuckles went white.
“What did you just call me?” My voice came out low. Dangerous.
Aurion looked alarmed. Half-rose from his seat.
Amaia’s smile widened. “Oh, did I offend you? I apologize. I should have said mistress. Though that implies a level of respect you have not earned.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You are simply the human he brought back as a curiosity. A pet, perhaps. Certainly nothing of importance.”
“Amaia,” Aurion said sharply. “That is enough.”
“Is it?” She turned to him. “The entire castle is talking about it. How the king keeps a human girl in his chambers. How she comes and goes at all hours. What else are we to think?” She looked back at me.
“Tell me, do you warm his bed? Is that your purpose? To provide entertainment until he chooses a proper queen?”
The water left the pitcher before I’d consciously decided to throw it.
The arc was perfect. I’d spent enough time serving drinks this week to know exactly how to aim.
The water hit Amaia directly in the face, drenching her elaborately styled hair and running down her low-cut dress in rivers.
She gasped and sputtered, her hands flying up too late to block the deluge.
The pitcher followed a second later. I’d had enough self-control not to aim it at her head, but I let it slip from my fingers to clatter onto the table in front of her, splashing more water across her dress and the nobles sitting nearby.
For a heartbeat, the entire room was frozen. Water dripped from Amaia’s hair onto her shoulders. Her makeup was running. Her dress was soaked through. She looked like a drowned cat.
Then she started shrieking, high-pitched and overly dramatic, playing up the offense for maximum effect.
“You dare-”
“Yeah, I dare.” I took a step toward her. “Say that again. I dare you.”
Aurion was there in an instant. Grabbed my arm. “I just remembered I need to speak with the chef about tomorrow’s menu. Wen, would you accompany me to the kitchens?”
“I’m not done-”
“How dare you lay hands on me!” Amaia was shrieking louder now, standing up and wringing water from her hair with theatrical gestures. “I am a lady of this court! You are nothing! A human plaything! When Malachar and I are wed, you will be thrown from this castle!”
I lunged for her. Aurion’s grip tightened and he physically dragged me backward.
“You will answer for this!” Amaia called after us. “I will make sure the king knows how you assaulted me! You will be punished!”
“Looking forward to it!” I snarled back.
Aurion pulled me into the corridor. The door closed behind us, muffling Amaia’s continued shrieking.
We faced each other. I was breathing hard. Fury coursing through my veins. My hands were still clenched into fists.
Aurion looked at me and grimaced. “Gwendolyn. That was unwise.”
“I don’t care.”
“She will tell the council. She will make this into a situation.”
“Good. Let her. Maybe then Mal will finally tell her to back off.”
“You know he cannot do that. Not yet. Not until we have evidence against Andreas.” Aurion studied my face. “Though I must say, I have never seen someone throw water with such accuracy. You soaked her completely.”
Despite my rage, I felt a small surge of satisfaction. “She deserved it.”
“She did.” He paused, then grinned. “Come on, Gwendolyn. Let us use that murderous energy for something productive.”
He led me through the corridors. Away from the dining room. Away from the nobles who were probably all talking about what had just happened. We went down a set of stairs I’d never used before. Through a heavy door. Into a large room that smelled of sweat and leather.
Mats covered the floor in sections. Dummies lined the walls at regular intervals. Weapons hung on racks in organized rows.
“Training room,” Aurion announced. “If you are going to assault nobles, you should at least know how to do it properly.”
I laughed despite myself. “Are you seriously offering to teach me how to fight?”
“I am seriously offering to teach you how to defend yourself. Which may occasionally involve offensive maneuvers.” He moved to the center of the room and gestured for me to follow. “Besides, you clearly need an outlet for your frustration. Better to hit dummies than duchesses.”
“She’s a duchess?”