Sin
The last thing she wanted, though unavoidable, was to serve her prince. No, not her prince.
Not her anything.
He belonged to a princess far away. Just another reminder of how little the word mate meant in these lands anymore. How the dreams she wished would never come true.
Easier said than done, she realized.
Sin could feel Max’s unwavering gaze fixed on her.
Her stomach twisted, and a flush of heat crept up her neck.
She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the prickle of his attention, wondering if his stare would strip away the last of her dignity.
Forcing herself to avoid eye contact, she felt immense pressure under his scrutiny.
She wondered to herself if seeing her like this would diminish any respect he may have held for her.
His was much less intense than the scrutiny of the king’s. His presence reeked of malice—his scent hidden beneath an immensely powerful ward on his body. He had no trust for even his sons.
The king slid his goblet over, the sound of metal scraping against the polished wood echoing across the table, signaling Sin to start pouring more wine for him.
The rich, red liquid glistened under the chandelier, casting a crimson glow that only seemed to heighten the tension in the room.
She lifted the carafe, and before she could make her final departure until the meal was over, a stern voice had her paralyzed.
“Take a seat, slave.”
Sin nearly dropped the carafe in shock and anger. Though she had learned control over her emotions after living with Vivienne and her awful sisters, she would never get used to being called that. Nerves fueled her anger, not understanding why in the hell a king asked a slave to sit at his table.
Breathing hitched beside the king. Maximus. His eyes were widened with rage as he met her eyes, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white, as if to tell her he had no control, and it was killing him.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Sin replied softly, passing the carafe to another servant who eyed her suspiciously.
Max stood, taking Sin’s hand, walking her to the chair beside his. The king snorted as Max held the chair out for her.
Instead of eating with the other servants in the kitchen, where they waited to be called upon, she sat and watched as the royal family ate in silence. Except for Max.
He was cutting his meat in half, the knife sinking into the flesh with deliberate force, as if each slice was an outlet for his barely restrained emotions.
“No, it’s alright,” Sin tried to stop him, but the look he gave her offered no argument.
He didn’t look away as he called out, requesting another plate and silverware, also saying please. Likely the only royal alive who asked for anything politely, Sin thought.
The brother that looked most like Max stared at them in horror as another servant answered the request, and Max started putting half of his food on her plate.
“Eat,” he ordered, making her grit her teeth. She bit hard into the meat, and the corner of his mouth lifted.
The other brother, younger, she assumed, had lighter hair and darker skin.
Gideon, was his name if she remembered correctly.
There was a worrisome look on his face. Sin ignored them all as she ate as silently as she could, wanting to make her presence invisible, though she knew it was impossible under those stares.
“There have been reports, slave,” the king started, his voice dripping with cold malice, his eyes narrowing as if savoring the discomfort he caused. Max clenched his knife, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “That your work is remarkable. Not a single complaint could be had of you.”
Sin said nothing, though she met his gaze to acknowledge his words.
“Do you think,” he continued in a softer, low voice, “that will be enough to save you?”
Max glared at his father through defiant eyes, only making the king smile—a cruel twist of his lips, a cold gleam in his eyes that spoke of power and malice, completely unworried.
“Do you think by performing exceptionally as a slave, you’ll be awarded a chance to marry your mate?”
Max dropped his silverware on his plate. “I think we should—”
Sin cut him off, making the entire room glare at her.
“I don’t want to marry my mate.” She struggled not to meet Max’s gaze, to ignore the conflicting emotions surging within her—anger, regret, and an aching sadness that wasn’t entirely her own.
It was as if she could feel his disappointment intertwining with her own defiance, a reminder of the bond she wished she could sever.
The king canted his head, narrowing his eyes at her, unconvinced.
“Well, that’s good at least. The princess across the land is my son’s perfect match, no matter what the useless gods have decided.
They haven’t been here to protect their people in ages.
So why should I give a shit about who they selected for my heir?
” His mask was beginning to crack. “I make the decisions for this kingdom, and this marriage ensures the stability of the lands—the protection of our people from war.”
“I respect your honorable decision as king, Your Highness.”
The king stared her down, assuming her words were held with sarcasm. “The Princess of Landon is from a line of impeccable breeding, as well as holding an army superior to anyone in the realms. You’d do well to remember that.”
Sin struggled not to let it show on her face how ridiculous his words sounded to her.
The royal family of Landon always had multiple children, except now.
The princess was known to not have any siblings, due to them dying before birth until the king and queen gave up.
Perhaps he thought her too uneducated to have known.
“Where is the queen?” Sin asked, hoping they would allow the change in subject.
The anger on the king’s face at the queen’s mention made Sin think not.
“The queen is in a small castle, residing across the land.”
And though that gave Sin a million questions to ask, the princes were so tense she worried what disaster would happen if she pressed.
The brother who more closely resembled Max smiled cruelly as he spoke. Oliver, she remembered his name was. “the Princess of Landon is rumored to have exceptional and rare abilities.”
The King’s attention shifted to him, away from Sin. The anger in his aura settling at Oliver’s words.
“May I be excused,” Gideon asked, staring at the table like he was done being in everyone’s presence.
The King waved him off like a fly, not bothering to look his way as he stood and left.
“Our little slave will be nothing that she couldn’t handle, should she try and intervene,” Oliver continued.
His cruel smirk was mirrored on the King’s face. Two peas in the same fucked up pod.
Sin had had enough of this. She’d had enough with powerful bullies finding the destruction of her will to live a priority in their lives.
Sin dabbed a napkin to her chin before standing. “Thank you so much for allowing me to join you.”
“Did I say you could leave?”
A moment went by for too long where Sin stared down the king as she remained standing. She had nothing to live for anymore and was no longer scared of death.
Max stood abruptly, the sound of his chair scraping harshly against the floor, grasping her arm and wrapping it around his elbow. “Pleasure as always, father.” The sudden stillness that followed seemed to freeze the entire room, all eyes locked on them.
Sin could hear the king’s teeth gritting, not arguing with his son for taking her away.
They left the dining room, the dimly lit halls casting flickering shadows as the bustling kitchen sounds faded.
The air was cooler here, with the faint scent of aged wood and candle wax lingering, adding to the sense of foreboding that followed them.
Sin refused to try and interpret what the king was grumbling under his breath, already knowing it had to do with his disliking of her being there.
She wondered how Max would pay for that defiance later.
She almost asked why they were walking, but instead, “I apologize for asking about your mother.”
She didn’t know why she apologized—perhaps it was habit, perhaps it was the unease that still lingered from the dinner.
She had seen the tension in Max’s face, the way his eyes darkened at the mention of the queen.
The last thing she wanted was to cause him more pain, even if she barely understood why she cared.
“Why in the world would you apologize for that?”
Sin became tongue-tied, not knowing how to approach a topic that had the entire dining room silenced.
“She was exiled,” he whispered.
Sin immediately lifted her head to meet his gaze, but he looked nowhere but in front of him.
“She had an affair,” he continued, speaking at a low volume.
“And rather than have her executed like most kings do, to maintain a relationship with her homeland and not risk war, he placed her in exile with a handful of servants.”
An awkward silence built before he spoke again. “I’m not sure how long that false peace will last, though. They must know by now that she is exiled and only kept alive for political reasons. I’m just glad that she is safe and away from him.”
“Then why don’t you just—” Sin started, and immediately stopped talking, horrified with herself at how easy it was to begin asking him why they don’t just kill him, the king—his own father.
They appeared outside the bedroom door to the servants’ quarters, and he lifted her chin. “There are many things in play that I cannot talk about. Just know, nothing is going to happen to you.”
His words cause her to instantly remember her future.
What she had planned for herself since the king passed his sentence.
She thinks about what Oliver said about the princess, and decided right then that she needed to leave somewhere far away.
To go and unlock her power that wouldn’t be caged for long, sooner, if she could figure out how to properly wield it.
Did she have feelings for Max?
Unfortunately, she did, and knew she couldn’t deny it. He promises it will all work out, but when in her life has she ever been able to trust a male? They don’t make them like Maurice anymore.
Max frowns at whatever he sees on Sin’s face, then steps forward, bracing his other hand on the wall, caging her in. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across his face.
Sin’s breath caught, her back pressing against the wall as if trying to create distance.
Max’s jaw tightened, the shoulder muscles rippling as his eyes bore into hers, their serpentine appearance glowing with an unnatural intensity, his auburn hair making them blaze ever more fiercely.
Her heart pounded, and a chill ran down her spine, every muscle tensing with the urge to shove him away, or to his knees.
He still had a firm grip on her chin as he growled, “You are mine, whether you want to accept it or not.”
She swallowed, and her pupils dilated at his words. Though she hated him for not caring about how she felt about their bond. She did want to accept it. She just couldn’t. Not while he was promised to another.
“Get the hell off me,” she whispered, refusing to push him away and risk him grabbing her hands.
He backed away, eyes still on hers as he flicked his wrist, waving his hand until faint shadow swirled in the air. Reaching into a space, making his hand disappear, he pulled out a large, rolled-up parchment. Not paper, but, canvas?
“I have something for you,” he said as he unrolled the painting, revealing a portrait.
Sin practically yanked it out of his hand when she got a glimpse of the woman’s face, and froze, eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at the familiar face.
He was staring at her lips when she looked up at him, a million more questions she desperately needed.
“When you’re ready,” he murmured. “There’s more you need to know. Tonight, you need to rest.”
He vanished, leaving her alone at the door with her racing thoughts of him, and the drawing of a woman who looked a lot like Sin.