CHAPTER 8
The next week was filled with more training and lectures, and Jane bossed me around while she idly stood by, watching me to ensure I did everything to her standards, which I have come to learn are higher than Mrs. Prast's. She corrected me on everything, even if I did something right; she would somehow tell me that it was wrong, 'not that fork, it doesn’t lie that way, you’re folding the napkins wrong, you push the mop side to side, not forward and backward.
' The last day of the week was dragging on, as we went over polishing cutlery and the proper way to do it for the hundredth time.
“You need to hold it like this.” She said as she yanked the spoon I had been polishing out of my hand and showed me the same way I had been polishing it a moment ago.
I wondered if it was possible to stab someone with a spoon.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, and she held the spoon back out for me to grab, which I did, and silently cursed her in my mind while deciding that stabbing her would not do me any good at this point.
The day continued like that, and I was counting down the minutes to dinner service, watching the large golden clock slowly tick throughout the day.
It was embellished with tangles of golden vines that were wrapped around each number.
It was quite beautiful. Prince Zendryk was not at dinner all week, apparently wrapping up the final paperwork from his battle, or that was the gossip buzzing around the servants’ quarters.
From what I saw the other night, he was probably in a different woman’s bed each night.
My headache wasn't bad today, but it was still throbbing.
I wondered why, since coming here, they came every day; I never had them this bad at The Academy.
It was probably the scent of flowers in the gardens, or something that the servants used for cleaning.
I glanced at the clock, and it was finally time for us to make our way to the dining room.
The King and Queen entered the room, just like they had every other night, no talking, no smiles.
We served them their drinks, and the other servants brought out roast beef with green vegetables, along with a tableful of other options.
The King cut a piece so tender it fell apart at the touch of the knife; he mopped up the sauce and gravy on his plate with it before shoving it into his mouth.
A single drop of gravy dripped from his fork and fell on his white lapel, no doubt creating a stain that will need to come out later, and I bet Jane would give me that task.
“The pigs eat cleaner than you do.” The Queen scowled at him, her lips turned upward in disgust.
That was the first thing she had said to him tonight, and it was full of hatred and spite.
Before the King could respond, the doors to the dining room flung open with a loud bang as they hit the adjacent walls, and Prince Zendryk swaggered into the room.
He ran a hand through his already mussed-up hair, no doubt from whoever's bed he had just come from. I fought the urge to drink him in and went back to filling the King and Queen’s glasses.
“Maybe he should join them in the stables?” He said, grinning wildly as he made his way to the table.
The sight of his dimples caused my butterflies to come out of hibernation.
Hell No! I reminded myself that I would not let him have this control over my emotions, and I needed to regain control of my body and force those fucking butterflies back into the depths of my stomach.
I took a deep, refreshing breath through my nose and stood up straighter, making sure not to make eye contact with him.
I had to stay focused on the drinks, get through dinner service, and then I could retreat to the safety of my room. I could do this.
The King looked at him with disapproval and wiped the gravy from his collar, not being bothered that a small stain was left behind.
“Dinner started half an hour ago, you have missed dinner all week, and the one you said you would attend, you’re late to.” The Queen flatly said to him with no emotion and a stone-cold look.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Prince Zendryk had pulled his own chair out before the servants could, and sat down, throwing one leg over the arm of the chair, not caring that he was in the King and Queen's presence.
Shock ran through my body, and I glanced over at the queen, whose stone face just turned into ice at his rebellious attitude.
If looks could kill, he would be a pile of dust in that chair.
He gave her a carefree smile before grabbing a bread roll and taking a bite, not bothered, or at least not showing that he was bothered by the anger currently simmering off her.
He started speaking with food in his mouth, and the Queen narrowed her eyes at him. “You know, you two really need to loosen up,” another bite, “maybe you should visit each other’s rooms tonight, you know, relieve the tension.”
My eyes were not the only pair that almost popped out of their head at the audacity of the comment.
“Enough, Zendryk!” His father's voice cut through the dining hall, echoing like thunder against the cold marble walls.
The room grew silent, but the shit-eating grin on Prince Zendryk’s face stayed put, as his leg hanging over the chair’s arm swung back and forth, taunting them.
The room had sunk into shadow, becoming somber and dull with the forcefulness of the king’s words.
No one else spoke for the rest of the meal, and the only sound was the knives and forks scraping against their plates as they ate.
Prince Zendryk only nibbled on buns and remained in his relaxed, carefree position, not bothering to pay attention to either of them.
Desserts arrived at the table, which was an assortment of pastries in various shapes and sizes.
Some were topped with whipped cream and sugar-glazed cherries; others had shavings of chocolate lost in layers of powdered sugar.
My mouth watered at the sight of them, and I would bet they tasted better than they looked.
The King rose from his chair, and the Queen followed, leaving the room without even acknowledging the servant who was asking if they would like any of the pastries.
Neither of them looked or said goodnight to the Prince, who was now drinking wine from his glass.
As they made their way to the hallway, they went in separate directions, not even hugging or saying anything to one another; they just turned and walked away.
Vryndhal, the village I grew up in, would tell grandiose stories of the King and Queen’s love and power; how they had ruled together, keeping peace between the kingdom and manors within it.
If only they could see what was happening behind closed doors and what a sad reality it really was.
My heart ached for them; these stories had to come from somewhere.
Unless that is all they were, stories, fairytales, things told to us to keep our hopes alive that there was something better out there.
Someone cleared their throat, and I realized I was lost in my thoughts again.
That someone just happened to be Prince Zendryk, and he was holding his glass up towards me, with one of his eyebrows raised.
I immediately made my way over to him, trying my best to hide my embarrassment, and filled his glass with wine.
I would not let him intimidate me, and I would not play into his games.
I walked back to the wall and took my spot, turning around to find him staring at me, while his finger ran along the top of his glass; continuous little circles, going around, with his gaze fixed on me the entire time.
I looked away, not wanting to get in another staring contest with him, and to save some of my dignity.
Jane watched the interaction, noticing his attention was on me, and only me.
A flicker of jealousy flashed in her eyes.
She broke protocol and walked over to the dining table, picked up a tray of desserts, and walked over to the Prince.
She cast a brief but pointed glare towards me, fueled by envy.
She bent down so that her breasts were at his eye level, spilling over the top of her neckline, the weight of them pushing against the restraints of her dress.
“Would you like some dessert, your highness?” An obvious attempt to seduce him by the sultry tone of her voice, and the way she batted her eyelashes like a hummingbird's wings. Gods, she was such a delusional moron.
“No.” He replied, not breaking his gaze that was locked on me, and he dismissed her with a flick of his wrist.
And he was a delusional asshole. Her back straightened as hurt, and anger settled onto her features; she stormed out of the dining hall with the pastry tray in hand. A loud bang came from the servant’s hallway, and I could only imagine the mess I would have to clean up later as punishment.
The Prince continued to stare and resumed running his finger along the lip of his glass; droplets of condensation ran down its curved edge, tantalizingly slow.
I looked at the wall across from me and found a lantern to lock my eyes on, avoiding his stare.
My pulse quickened as his gaze was burning into me, but I didn’t look away from the lantern.
Trying to refocus my attention onto something else, anything else, my eyes trace the intricate lines and designs on the lantern, willing myself not to look in his direction.
Even though the other servants began clearing the table and disappeared into the kitchen area, I was required to stay as he was still ‘drinking’, yet he hadn’t taken a sip of the wine that I had poured him over half an hour ago.
Silence filled the room, and the last of the servants made their way to the kitchen to continue their after-dinner routine.
This must be his usual way of getting women alone, but I was not going to give in.
The clock, agonizingly slow, ticked another fifteen minutes by.
I couldn’t escape. I was trapped in whatever game he was playing.
No wonder he was the commander of their armies; the strength of his gaze was enough to send men fleeing.
He shifted in his seat, swinging the dangling leg back over the arm of the chair, and moved his glass out of the way.
Leaning forward on the table, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers.
“Are you planning on going for a midnight walk tonight?” He asked me, his face expressionless, just like his mother's.
“No, Sir,” I said, keeping my focus on the lantern. It had ten bolts on the front.
“Too bad, I was thinking of going to the willow tree tonight.” An invitation?
Was he inviting me to join him? Shit. I was not going to let him win this one.
I swallowed the hard lump forming in my throat as he rose from his seat slowly, calculated, and sauntered his way over to me.
My lip found its way under my top teeth, and his eyes darkened at the motion. Fuck. I couldn’t lose, not like this.
“Avyn, are you still in there?” Jane's voice called from the servant’s hallway, and she poked her head in the room, surveying where the Prince was standing and where I stood, no more than five feet away from each other.
“My apologies, Sir.” She said while lowering into a curtsy.
“I didn’t know that anyone was still in here. ”
“No need for apologies, I was just heading to bed.” He said, looking over to her, and finally acknowledged her presence.
Satisfaction flickered in her expression. Idiot.
The Prince looked back at me, “Goodnight, Avyn.” He purred softly, low enough that Jane could not hear.
Hearing him say my name sent a chill throughout my body, straight to that growing sensation between my thighs. He winked at me before leaving the room and disappeared behind the closing doors.