CHAPTER 4
1292 Words
CHAPTER 4
SERAFINA’S POV
Serafina’s hands trembled as she gripped the wooden handle of the bucket, the cold water sloshing against its sides. The grand hall stretched endlessly before her, a vast expanse of marble and gold that seemed impossible to clean in a single day. Even with a dozen maids working alongside her, it felt like a cruel joke—a punishment rather than a task.
She sighed and made her way outside to fetch more water from the well. The midday sun bore down on her, beads of sweat forming along her brow. Just as she reached the well, her heart nearly leaped from her chest.
Lorenzo.
The prince strode toward her, his gaze locked ahead, unaware of her presence—for now. Panic surged through her veins. Spinning on her heel, she darted into the nearest closet, slamming the door shut and pressing her ear against it. Through the keyhole, she watched his boots pass by, her breath shallow. Relief washed over her, but only for a moment.
She heard a soft click behind her.
There was the unmistakable whisper of a sword leaving its sheath.
Her throat tightened as she turned ever so slowly. The blade glinted in the dim light, and the man holding it was more shadow than flesh. His long, ink-black hair obscured most of his face, leaving only a single piercing eye visible.
Matteo.
He was the most deadly swordsman in the kingdom. He was the man she had admired from afar. He was the man who had the power to murder her right in front of her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, measured, and dangerous.
Serafina collapsed to her knees. “Forgive me, my lord.”
Matteo lowered his sword slightly, his curiosity evident despite his unreadable expression. “Who are you hiding from?”
She hesitated. Would telling the truth make things worse?
“Someone I have… wronged.”
A pause. Then, with an exhale of disinterest, he sheathed his weapon. “Leave.”
She scrambled to her feet, bowing repeatedly as she backed toward the door. “Thank you, my lord.”
Once outside, she pressed her back against the wall, sucking in gulps of air. This was no way to live, dodging royals like a hunted rat. But what choice did she have?
“You took forever,” a maid grumbled as Serafina returned to her cleaning post.
Serafina grinned. “I saw Lord Matteo.”
A collective gasp erupted from the group. The maids gathered around her, abandoning their brooms and rags.
“From a distance?” one whispered.
Serafina smirked. “Up close. He spoke to me.”
Squeals of excitement filled the hall.
“You’re so lucky!” Another maid playfully nudged her shoulder.
“What did he say? What happened?” The other person's eyes shone with curiosity.
Serafina dramatically placed a hand over her heart. “I was struggling to lift a bucket when suddenly, I felt a towering presence behind me. I thought it was a wall or maybe even a small mountain, but no—when I turned, I smacked right into his chest.”
More squeals.
“He helped me lift the bucket, but only halfway, because, you know, he has his pride. You can't expect a nobleman to assist a mere servant excessively.
The maids swooned, hanging onto every word.
“Enough!”
The head maid's voice resonated loudly throughout the hall. The maids scrambled back to their duties, but Serafina had already been marked.
“You. Come with me.”
Serafina gulped as the others betrayed her with their pointing fingers.
The barn reeked of damp straw and old wood. The head maid tossed a thick rope at Serafina’s feet.
“Tie your hands and legs.”
Serafina obeyed, her pulse drumming in her ears. Once secured, the head maid stuffed a rag into her mouth and picked up a long wooden rod.
“You’ve been getting too bold. Let’s see if this reminds you of your place.”
The blows came hard and fast. Serafina screamed against the cloth, her voice swallowed by the barn’s silence. No one would help her. They never did.
Meanwhile, in the royal chambers, King Vittorio lounged in his bed, barely lifting his head when his eunuch announced a visitor.
“Who dares disturb the king?”
A tall, imposing figure entered.
“It is I, your dearest friend.”
Vittorio’s eyes brightened. “Matteo!” He rushed forward, embracing the warrior. “Have you been well? Were you injured? When did you return?”
Matteo chuckled. “You’re still the same, your highness. I’m well. Just a few bruises, but nothing serious. I returned last night.”
Vittorio clapped his shoulder. “Come, let’s walk.”
As they strolled through the palace gardens, Vittorio sighed. “No matter what I do, she refuses to love me.”
Matteo shook his head. “The queen has always been distant. Perhaps—”
“I won’t give up,” Vittorio interrupted. “If only someone could help me.”
Matteo smirked. “You could have any woman in the kingdom. Is she truly worth all this trouble?”
Vittorio’s face darkened. “I love her.”
Matteo scoffed. “If this is what love does to a man, I’d rather stay single.”
Vittorio smirked. “You say that, but you spend more time in the brothels than on the battlefield.”
Matteo cleared his throat. “That’s—”
“No judgment.” Vittorio laughed. “Though I do wonder… when will you stop hiding behind that hair?”
Matteo grinned. “When the heavens bless me with a face worthy of my reputation.”
Vittorio chuckled, but his amusement was short-lived.
“She’s the oracle of our time,” a guard whispered nearby. “Everything she predicts comes true.”
Vittorio’s eyes narrowed. “Who did you say?”
The guard paled as he turned and found the king staring at him. “Y-Your Highness! I—I didn’t mean—”
“Speak.”
“Th-The servant, Serafina. She’s been predicting people’s futures.”
Vittorio’s jaw tightened. “Mocking me, is she?”
Matteo placed a hand on his hilt. “Shall I handle this?”
Vittorio smirked. “No. I’ll see to it myself.”
That night, Serafina winced as Beatrice dressed her wounds.
“You keep getting into trouble.”
Serafina forced a smile. “Could’ve been worse.”
Beatrice smacked her arm.
“Ow!”
“Try not to get killed.” Beatrice stormed out.
Minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.
“I need to see the oracle.”
Serafina straightened. “The oracle is resting.”
“I have fifty gold pieces.”
Her eyes widened. She quickly dressed in her tattered finery, donning a fan to obscure her face.
The masked visitor sat across from her, a heavy pouch of gold between them.
“What troubles you?”
“I was born under misfortune.”
Serafina placed a dramatic hand over his. “That explains everything.”
“And my visitor tomorrow—what will they bring me?”
She exhaled. “Something grand. Silk and gold.”
The man smirked. “And who is this visitor?”
She flexed her fingers. “Your father-in-law.”
Silence. Then, steel gleamed in the candlelight.
“How dare you mock the king?”
Serafina’s breath hitched. The man removed his mask.
Vittorio.
The guards burst in.
“Tie her up!”
Serafina couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Vittorio sneered. “If your prophecy fails, you die at dawn.”
The guards dragged her away as her screams echoed through the night.
- Writer
