Xavier

Mess

It started with a peach.

It was round, perfectly ripe, and there was no doubt in my mind that it would be sweet.

The thing was lying on the dining room table taunting us.

There are three types of human slaves living within the walls of the Oscillius Estate—the maids, the caretakers, and the bed slaves.

The fresh fruit, vegetables, and top-quality red meat would be fed to the bed slaves, of course. They would be the main refreshment and entertainment for the royals so they needed energy and all the extra iron they could get.

That made the peach off-limits to the likes of us.

Still, my greedy eyes lingered on the peach.

“Damn them,” Beatrice grumbled softly beside me.

On our hands and knees, we were scrubbing the floor, our pants wet at the knees. Dropping my eyes back to my work, one of my dark curls fell into my eyes and I blew at it, annoyed that the ponytail just couldn’t seem to contain my thick locks anymore. They were matted, I knew, dulled from the lack of decent conditioner.

“They spend all of their time lazing away, eating anything they want.”

Beatrice was older, her hair a dull brown, pasty skin mottled with bruises. All the maids were covered in bruises and scratches, especially now that Turk had been promoted to our supervisor.

“We work ourselves half to death for scraps.”

The way she spat it was emphatic, the bags under her eyes dark from sleepless nights, fine lines on her forehead and around her mouth already apparent—the woman isn’t even thirty years old.

Then again, most of us don’t make it to the age of thirty.

“If I’d just been born prettier,” she mumbled. I could feel her eyes on me, their piercing glare burning into the side of my face. I just kept scrubbing, evasive. “I don’t know how you wound up here,” she commented. “You fit out.”

I’d heard this before.

Usually in whispers, less direct.

Biting my cheek, careful not to look at the older maid, I stated, “This is where the King assigned me. I don’t question him.” It was the best way to shut down the conversation since questioning King Oscillius was treason, and treason meant death.

It was silent then. For a while, at least.

The quiet was a welcome relief.

Until we reached the edge of the table. Scrubbing at the fresh blood on the floor, I shivered at such a sizeable amount, certain that no human could sustain such a loss and survive.

Beatrice muttered, “Such a shame, really. She was a pretty one.”

So we’d lost another bed slave.

I wondered which one it was.

Swallowing, hands trembling, I forced myself to keep going, aware that Beatrice had stopped working. Glancing back worriedly, I saw something akin to pity in her usually jaded expression.

With a sigh, she muttered, “I suppose being a maid isn’t so bad.”

. . .

Walking down the familiar corridor, I was careful to keep my eyes on the ground.

Maids were given their tasks for the day and, upon completion, they would go back to their designated bunk within the boarding hall. It was where our few belongings—if we had any—would be stored. Aside from my pajamas and the freshly cleaned uniform we would be provided each day, I didn’t have much. A picture, the book Isaac had smuggled me, and the dried petunia I used as a bookmark. That was it.

Growing up within these walls, I’d found that the less you had, the less of a bother it was when it was taken from you.

“Stop.”

My body went rigid, muscles locking into place as a command was placed upon me.

In mute horror, I recognized the voice.

“Come here.”

Turning, unable to disobey, I was careful to keep my head down as I approached the Pureblood Prince, noticing that the maids who’d been traveling the same way hadn’t stopped their procession. They knew better than to intervene in this scenario.

Nobody was going to save me.

A sharp tug at my hair made me flinch and, with trembling knees, I realized he’d leaned into my space, his mouth gliding across my throat. I stood perfectly still, mind stumbling over what he wanted—when I felt his tongue sweep up my neck. Letting out a low hum, my lashes fluttered, lips parting, and vacantly, I knew I’d heard this noise before—they always made it just before feeding.

A horrified shudder ran up my spine. He wouldn’t bite me, would he?

It was forbidden to bite a maid without permission from the King.

“Did you miss me?” His hand slipped to my waist, pulling my hips forward against him. It was a deep rumble in his chest, threatening.

Trembling, horrified, I thought about how he’d tormented me most of my childhood. Yanking my hair, calling me mean names, knocking me over, creating messes just to watch me have to clean them up—it had been bad but bearable. I could handle it.

But right before he’d left the estate, to Russia or so I’d heard, he’d left me a parting gift that was much worse than any of the atrocities he’d committed against me.

Shaking now, terrified, I remembered being forced to stand at his bedside.

The creak of the bed, the cries of a young bed slave.

I’d tried to forget about it, about the smell, the horrible squelching sounds—but her eyes. Filled with tears, her hand reaching out toward me, as if to beg me to save her—it had been violent and bloody.

He’d forced me to watch.

Gripping my chin, his thumb slipping across my bottom lip, he forced me to stare into his silver eyes, light brown hair longer than I remembered. “I know I missed our time together.”

It was a threat.

Clear as day, wearing a smile that was too perfect.

No mercy.

Just teeth.

“We’ll have plenty of time to play catch up.” He’d leaned closer, nose rubbing against mine, and every instinct in my body was screaming to pull back, to turn my head away from him.

But I was frozen.

Petrified in place, I felt him lean in, lips just barely grazing—

“I’m so disappointed in you, Ricco.” The Princes’ lips pursed at the interruption but my chest swelled with relief. “Let that thing go,” Princess Aurelia snapped, rolling her eyes. “You know father would never approve of her.” Lips pinched, the woman was gorgeous despite the fact that she looked like she was sucking on a really sour lemon.

Releasing me, the Prince turned his attention on Aurelia, frowning. “Impertinent as always, sister. Don’t you have wifely duties to attend to?”

“Don’t you have an estate to run?” she shot back.

Taking a leering step toward his sister, I shivered, eyes widening in fear for the Princess. “Mind your tone little girl.” The growl was ferocious and I found myself wringing my hands together anxiously. I didn’t want him to hurt her for defending me.

The princess' back just straightened.

“Perhaps I should call my fiance over for a visit,” she said coldly, eyes flashing silver. “He’s rather protective of me, you see. If someone disrespects me, they’re disrespecting him.” Offering a brilliant smile, Aurelia threw her long auburn hair over her shoulder emphatically. “And you wouldn’t want to disrespect him, would you?”

The Prince went quiet.

Nervously, I wondered how terrible her fiancé was that he’d make her brother go so still.

“Have your talk,” the Prince finally stated, taking a pointed step away from Aurelia. Eyes snapping to me, he added, “I’ll see you later.”

After he’d departed, I saw Aurelia tilt her chin, motioning for me to follow her. Silently, I did so, surprised when the Princess muttered, “He’s back and I’m leaving.” Her tone was filled with worry as she led me safely back to the boarding hall. “What horrible timing.”