Suddenly, the door is kicked open as Aine rushes in with a tray of food clutched in her hands. Behind her, framed in the doorway, is Prince Aidan. His expression is unreadable, a mask of cold fury.
Maverick looks over his shoulder, the predatory look still on his face. "Drop that and leave," he snarls at Aine, completely oblivious to Aidan's presence. Aine, her eyes wide with terror, drops the tray as the sound of clanging metal echoes through the room.
She flees, pulling the door shut behind her, with Aidan now inside.
Maverick turns back to me, the smile returning. "Now, where were we? Hmm…" he purrs, his lips brushing my bare shoulder. I whimper, my eyes darting to Aidan. The frosty expression on his face slowly hardens into something menacing.
Aidan walks over swiftly, grabs Maverick by the shoulder and directs a heavg blow to his face that snaps his head back. Blood immediately gushes from Maverick's nose, and a cut appears on his lip. Maverick stumbles backward, staring at Aidan in shock.
"You? How did you…?" Maverick's sentence is cut short by another punch to his navel that makes him gasp and double over, spluttering blood.
"It seems you didn't quite get my message earlier," Aidan says, his voice a low, icy growl. The sound sends a shiver of fear and relief down my spine as I scuttle to a corner.
He grabs Maverick by his collar, lifting him effortlessly with one hand. Maverick's feet dangle just above the floor. "I told you she wasn't meant for you, didn't I?" Aidan's voice is menacing, each word laced with a threat.
Maverick chuckles, a wet, gurgling sound, and spits a mouthful of blood on the floor.
"Isn't it obvious that I refused to listen?" He says chuckling and still in pain. Infuriated, Aidan delivers another blow to his face. He drags Maverick, who is now staggering and dazed, to the door, flings it open, and shoves him out into the hall.
He closes the door and turns to face me. He walks over slowly, the tense energy from his fight with Maverick radiating off him. He lifts his hands and gently cups my face. I notice the intricate black tattoos snaking up his forearms, which is revealed by his rolled-up sleeves. His palms are warm and comforting.
Just then, the door is flung open again. Aine rushes in, her eyes wide. "Zelda, are you…?" she stops, her sentence dying on her lips as she sees Aidan's position.
Aidan doesn't react. He simply continues to gaze into my eyes, his hands still holding my face. Aine coughs awkwardly, and he glances at her over his shoulder, a hint of annoyance in his expression.
"I'm sorry," he mutters to me, his voice barely a whisper. He gently brushes his thumb over my cheek before he turns and walks to the door. He grabs the handle and looks back at me. "Keep your door locked and bolted from inside at night, and always use the peephole," he says, his words a command. He turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him.
Aine rushes to me, her hands grabbing mine. "Zelda, are you alright?" she asks, her voice shaky.
I'm still in shock, unable to speak.
"Zelda, please, don't scare me! Talk to me! Are you alright?" she pleads.
When I don't answer, she sighs and pulls me toward the bed. She gently pushes me to sit down, then pours a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. I take it and gulp it down, the cool water, soothing my raw throat. She hands me the tray of food, which she must have retrieved from the floor.
"I'm so sorry I was late," she says, her voice full of regret. "I should have been here earlier."
I reach out and hold her hand. "Aine, calm down. I'm okay. He didn't... have his way. And I don't think it would have changed anything if you had been here earlier."
She looks at me, her eyes flashing with anger. "He didn't have his way, so what?! Him touching you like that is wrong enough! You don't have to pretend it was nothing." She says.
"Enough, Aine!" I say, placing the tray on the bed. "I've had enough drama for one day, okay?" I say with a pleading tone.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, wrapping her arms around me. "Please don't be mad at me."
"How could I be mad at a thirteen-year-old I consider my sister?" I say with a sigh, gently pinching her cheeks.
She swats my hand away with a small laugh, then her face turns somber again. "Aine, what is it?" I ask, pulling out of her hug.
She looks at me, her young eyes filled with a sadness that seems far older than her years.
"It's just that this reminds me of when I first started working in the royal quarters. I saw women being forced into lives they never wanted every single day. I hope you'll be an exception to that." She says, standing up. She picks up the tray, and bids me goodnight.
The moment she leaves, I get up and lock the door, bolting it from the inside and locking the windows. I dim the lights, creating a warm, amber glow in the room, and slide into the bed. It's more comfortable than the one I had at home, but I can't shake the feeling of unease. My mind keeps replaying the incident with Maverick and Aidan. I can't stop thinking about Aine, so young and already so jaded by this cruel world. I sigh, snuggling into the pillow, forcing myself to sleep.
Early the next morning, I wake up and walk to the bathroom. After a quick bath, I go to the wardrobe. My fingers run over the fabrics, searching for a dress that isn't too lavish for a maid, even though most of them are plain. After some deliberation, I choose a plain, immaculate brown gown. It fits perfectly, flaring out just above my knees. I put on a pair of black flats and pull my hair into a tight neat bun.
I'm standing in front of the mirror, adjusting my dress, when a knock sounds on the door. I look through the peephole and see Aine, a tray in her hands, looking impatient. I open the door, and she rushes in, placing the tray on the bed. She looks me up and down, then heaves a sigh of relief.
"I rushed down here to wake you up so you wouldn't be late. Queen Hatia hates imperfections," she says.
"I'm aware," I say, fiddling with the hem of my dress. "But don't you think these dresses are a little too lavish for a maid?"
She slaps my hand away. "You'll rumple the dress like that. Zelda, for goodness sake, you're the Queen's personal maid! Do you think the Queen will let you walk beside her in sacks? Absolutely not! She doesn't care about the other maids and their uniforms, but she cares about her personal maid. Often, her personal maids are mistaken for members of the royal family when they attend social events with her because of the way they're dressed." Aine shakes her head.
"Besides, this dress is too dull to wear when accompanying to party. She'd have your head for wearing this that day." She says laughing.
She walks to one of the drawers and pulls out a tiny, transparent glass bottle. She dips a small silk cloth into the liquid and squeezes a few drops onto my dress. The scent of lavender and other delicate perfumes fills the air.
"You must wear this every day," she instructs. "The Queen detests any slightest odor."
"But I just had a bath with a nice-smelling soap," I protest, confused.
"Scented soap or not, put this on every day. Clear?" she asks, her tone taking on a bossy edge. I stifle a laugh at her cute seriousness.
"Zelda, clear?" she repeats, feigning annoyance. I nod quickly, and she hands me the tray. "First, prepare her bath water with milk and essential oils. Then, stand by the side until she wakes up and serve her the warm water and fruits. Carefully undress her, another set of maids will handle the actual bathing. While she's in the bath, get her dress for the day ready, and slice the fruits on the tray. She likes them freshly cut, dripping with their juices. When she emerges, you'll help her with her corsets, zipping her dress, brushing her hair, makeup, and shoes. I'm only going to say this once, so is that clear?"
"Clear!" I say.
She nods, glances around the room, and then moves to the door. "I'll show you the quickest way to the kitchen so you can be prepared tomorrow morning."
I nod again and follow her out in apprehension, the tray in my hands, ready to face the Queen. Luckily, my first tasks go perfectly.