AURORA

THE ERRAND

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The sun was already sinking low, casting a warm golden hue across the marble corridors of the palace. Aurora was in the courtyard, tending to the delicate orchids the Queen once adored, when Lady Racheal appeared, her lips curling into the kind of smile that never reached her eyes.

“Aurora,” she said sweetly, the sound of her voice laced with something that made Aurora’s stomach tighten. “I have a little task for you.

Aurora straightened, brushing soil from her hands. “What is it, my lady?”

Racheal stepped closer, her perfume heavy with jasmine and venom. “The King’s right-hand man, Lord Jareth, requires a sealed document from me. You will deliver it to him… personally.”

The name made Aurora’s breath hitch. Lord Jareth was infamous among the servants — a man of power and privilege who wielded his authority like a weapon. The stories of his wandering hands and uninvited whispers were enough to make most maids avoid him like a snake in tall grass.

Aurora swallowed hard. “My lady… perhaps it would be better if—”

Racheal’s smile sharpened. “Are you refusing me?”

“No,” Aurora said quickly, lowering her gaze. “I’ll go.”

Racheal handed her a rolled parchment tied with a crimson ribbon. Her fingers lingered just a moment too long. “See that you deliver it without delay. And Aurora…” She leaned closer, her voice a silken threat. “Try to be… agreeable. Lord Jareth is a valuable friend to those who please him.”

The words made Aurora’s skin prickle. She curtsied and turned away, her mind racing.

As she walked through the west wing toward Lord Jareth’s chambers, the palace walls seemed to close in. The hall grew quieter, shadows lengthening with the dying light. She clutched the parchment to her chest, wishing she could turn back.

When she reached the heavy carved doors, she paused, drawing in a steadying breath. Two guards flanked the entrance, their expressions unreadable. One opened the door, and the scent of spiced wine drifted out.

Inside, Lord Jareth sat at a low table, swirling a goblet, his eyes glinting like a predator’s at the sight of her.

“Well, well,” he drawled, setting the cup aside. “Lady Racheal sends me such a… delightful messenger.”

Aurora forced a polite bow, keeping her distance. “My lord, I bring a message from Lady Racheal.”

“Come closer,” he said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Aurora took a step forward, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. As she extended the parchment, she silently prayed she could escape before his hands found her.

Far down the hall, unseen by both, a shadow lingered — Crown Jael was coldly watching.

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Aurora’s fingers trembled slightly as she handed over the sealed parchment. Lord Jareth took it lazily, tossing it onto the table without breaking the seal. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, a slow, appraising look that made her skin crawl.

“I don’t recall seeing you in the palace before,” he said, circling her like a predator. “New blood… I like that.”

Aurora stiffened. “I’m only here to deliver a message, my lord.”

“That’s not all you can deliver,” he replied with a smirk, stepping closer.

Her pulse quickened. She stepped back, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist. His grip was like iron.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

He ignored her, his free hand sliding toward her shoulder. With a sharp tug, the delicate fabric ripped, slipping down her arm. Aurora gasped, clutching it to her chest.

“I said, let go!” she snapped.

Jareth’s smile vanished, replaced by a flash of irritation. “You maids are prettier when you’re quiet.” His palm struck her cheek, the sharp sting making her eyes water.

Before he could grab her again, the chamber doors burst open.

Crown Prince Jael stood in the doorway, his presence like an icy wind cutting through the room. His eyes locked on Jareth, cold and lethal.

“Remove your hand,” the Prince said, his voice quiet but edged with danger. “Now.”

Jareth froze. “Your Highness, I—”

“Silence.” Jael stepped forward, each stride deliberate. The air seemed to tighten with every step. “You dare lay a hand on palace staff without permission? On my watch?”

Aurora’s breath caught. There was no kindness in his tone — only a dangerous authority that made Jareth’s bravado crumble.

“Out,” Jael ordered. “Before I decide the punishment fits the crime.”

Jareth backed away, muttering apologies, and slipped from the room without another word.

The Prince turned to Aurora, his gaze briefly sweeping over the torn dress before meeting her eyes. “Come with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

And just like that, Aurora realized she was stepping from one danger into another — only this one carried a far more unpredictable kind of power.

Aurora clutched her dress and followed him through the long marble corridors. She tried to explain, her voice trembling. “Your Highness, I swear I—”

“Not here,” he cut in, without looking back.

They walked in silence, his strides steady, hers hurried to keep up. Every passing servant and guard glanced at them — some with surprise, others with thinly veiled curiosity.

By the time they reached the east wing, a group of maids stood in the corner, arranging fresh flowers. They froze, wide-eyed, as Aurora passed beside the Prince. Whispers bloomed instantly.

“Is that Aurora?”

“She’s walking with the Crown Prince… to his chambers?”

“She must have gotten herself into trouble.”

“Trouble? More like she’s trying to climb the ranks.”

Aurora kept her head low, her cheeks burning, but the mocking little laughs from behind followed her until Jael’s chamber doors closed firmly at her back.

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