The king’s mistress

The storm came fast an angry sky slashing through the woods as Liora pressed her basket tighter to her chest. Rain soaked her cloak, the wind pulling at her braid. She knew the forest paths by heart, but even she hesitated when lightning cracked close enough to split a tree. She shouldn’t have taken the long way home. She nearly missed him. A groan. Low. Pained. Her heart kicked as she spun, scanning the dark brush until she saw him a man slumped near the base of a tree, blood soaking his tunic, rain washing it down his chest. His face was half hidden, but the golden embroidery on his cloak gave him away. Royal. “No,” she breathed. “No, no, no…” She should’ve walked away. A royal injured in the woods meant trouble. Execution, maybe, if someone thought she did it. But his eyes opened just barely and locked on hers. “Help… me.” His voice was raw, desperate. And so she did the one thing she’d been warned never to do. She knelt beside a royal and laid her hands on him. Just as she pressed her palm to his wound, his hand snapped around her wrist strong, despite the blood loss. His eyes, a stormy grey, met hers. “Who are you?” he rasped. Before she could answer, the sound of horses thundered in the distance approaching fast. Guards. She had seconds to decide: run and leave him to die… or stay and face whatever fate awaited a girl caught touching the prince. The scent of stone and smoke was the first thing Liora noticed. Cold air kissed her cheeks, but it wasn’t the wind of the forest it was the still, heavy air of a cell. Her wrists ached. Chains. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the dim torchlight. The walls around her were carved from thick grey stone. The only window was high and barred. “Where am I?” she rasped. As Liora was dragged from the cell and into the castle, her eyes met Kael’s once more. He didn’t look like a prince then. He looked like a man haunted, conflicted, and full of something dangerous. Regret. Desire. And something else. She wasn’t sure what scared her more: that she was falling for the prince… Or that he might already be falling for her. “She wakes.” The voice was unfamiliar. Sharp. Male. A guard. The cell door creaked open. Heavy boots echoed as someone stepped inside, cloaked in crimson and gold. Not a soldier. A noble. No a prince. Prince Kael. He looked pale, the bandage around his chest barely hidden beneath his tunic. But his eyes storm grey and intense locked on her as if searching for something. “You saved my life,” he said softly. “Why?” Liora stared at him, heart racing. “Because you were dying.” He blinked, almost surprised. “Most wouldn’t risk touching a royal, let alone healing one.” “I didn’t know you were royal.” She looked away. “Maybe I wouldn’t have helped you if I had.” That made him laugh low, tired, but real. “You should be executed,” came a voice from behind him. A woman now. Cold, elegant. Liora tensed. Princess Elenya stepped into the cell, her gown trailing behind her like frost. Her beauty was chilling eyes like ice, lips curled into a cruel smile. “She broke royal law,” Elenya said. “Touching the crown prince is treason.” Kael straightened. “She saved me. That overrides the law.” Elenya’s gaze darkened. “Only because you say so.” The air crackled between them. Finally, a third voice cut through the tension deeper, older, with authority that silenced the room. “Let her live.” King Alaric. He stood at the cell’s threshold, gold rings on his fingers, a wolf carved into the crest at his chest. “But she will serve,” he added. “She owes the crown a debt.” Liora’s blood ran cold. The King turned to Elenya. “Assign her to your quarters. A servant, nothing more.” Elenya’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Gladly.”