Xavier

Work

“This,” he said tersely, “is your new residence.”

It was a closet.

A utility closet, no less.

I stared at the mops hanging on the wall, the shelves filled with every variety of cleaners, rags, and dusters—and my eyes fell to the lightweight futon on the floor.

There was no pillow.

No blanket.

It smelled musty with a hint of bleach.

“Since the King is merciful, he’s given you light duties for the next week.” He pointed at the paper posted on the wall over the futon, filled with a weekly schedule of what would become my new responsibilities. Glancing at his watch, Turk quirked a brow. “Since you’ve wasted so much time in bed, you’re a bit behind on your duties for today.”

Taking a step into the closet, I squinted at today’s date in the notice, realizing that I had been given four tasks a day which, arguably was less than the norm, but that I would be doing each task alone. Technically, I would have a larger workload, even if it didn’t necessarily show on paper.

“Your breakfast and dinner will be brought to your room.”

I was being separated from the other maids.

Was this what Aurelia meant by quarantined?

6 am breakfast and 6 pm dinner. They were a part of the schedule. “What about lunch?” I wondered aloud.

“That’s the trade off for such a light schedule.”

Turning, I found Turk smiling at me. It was a wicked thing, ugly to look at.

The maids were given three square meals a day. It might be tasteless gruel and rock hard bread but it was still food. How would I get by with only being fed at twelve-hour intervals?

I was already struggling with hunger pains.

Were they trying to starve me?

“Get to it.”

As the door swung shut, I was left in complete darkness and, fumbling a bit, I managed to pull on the string attached to the solitary lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling.

It gave off a gross yellow hue and flickered a bit.

Squinting back at the schedule, I noticed the location of all the areas I was in charge of cleaning and I’d never had access to any of them before. Spare bedrooms, I realized. Spanning across the estate, each the size of suites. It didn’t say whose bedrooms I was in charge of cleaning but I was hopeful that I wouldn’t have the misfortune of meeting them.

They must be important if they were staying in one of those rooms. Probably guests staying for the ball tomorrow night.

So Purebloods.

Hadn't I already had my fill of them this week?

After filling the rolling cart with all of the things I would need for the job, I shuffling off toward the designated suite numbers, keeping my head bowed.

Since the designated time I had been allotted to clean the rooms had long ago passed, it was possible that the occupants would be present. I hoped they would just turn me away at the door if they were.

Moaning.

They were loud, jarring sounds, and of course they were coming from the first room I was supposed to clean. There was no doubt in my mind what was happening in that room.

Hesitantly, I pivoted away from that one, moving on to the next.

Giving a careful knock, I heard quiet footsteps.

The door creaked open.

It was the elf from the courtyard. Her eyes widened, flickering to the room behind her, and she shook her head no. “You can’t be here.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “I’m supposed to—”

But the door quietly clicked shut in my face.

Lovely.

Maybe this really was light duty.

When I reached the third room, someone was already knocking on it.

It was a woman. A pureblood, I realized with a shiver. Careful to keep my eyes cast downward, I could hear her sultry voice speaking through the door, offering whoever the patron of that room was some attention. “Xavier,” the woman was pouting now at having been ignored. “Won’t you just open the door? I haven’t seen you in so long. I’ve missed you.” Her intentions were clear.

The door opened.

I took a step back, head bowed, waiting for her to invite the girl in so I could be on my way.

Instead, his voice was gravelly as he stated, “There’s the maid I ordered.”

Stiffly, my eyes raised without my permission, taking in a man dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, his dark curls wet, presumably from a shower he’d just taken.

His dark eyes were cast down on me.

Flustered, I bowed deeply. “I apologize for the wait.”

Had he ordered for someone to come to his room? How bad was the mess?

“Come in.” It was a command. My body moved on its own, dutifully pushing my utility cart past the man, into the room.

“Xavier, a maid? You can’t be ser—”

“It’s King Rosario to you,” was his sharp reply. I flinched at the sound of the door slamming shut behind me. There was a moment of dead silence—I was under the impression that he was waiting for the girl to leave. It was weird that he seemed so set on sending her away when she was a Pureblood which, by default, meant she was gorgeous. And very willing, apparently.

He sighed.

It was an exasperated noise.

Even with my head bowed, I could tell that the room wasn’t dirty at all.

Spic and span, it looked like this . . . er, King, had only just arrived. So why had he called for a maid? Clutching the cart tightly, I felt fear trickle in at all the nightmarish possibilities.

“You’re bleeding.”

Blinking, I realized it was true. Red droplets were falling from my nose, landing on the edge of the cart just below me. “I-I’m sorry,” I mumbled, quickly grabbing a paper towel to dab away the evidence. “It’s been a . . . long day.” I don’t know why I said it. My hand was trembling as I held the paper towel to my nose, attempting to apply some pressure.

It hurt.

My nose, my jaw, my head.

It all throbbed.

Having taken a seat on the plush couch, the Pureblood gave another command. “Sit.”

My body didn’t hesitate, practically collapsing onto the soft cushion. Still, I kept my back straight, head carefully bowed.

“Relax.”

I didn’t know one could be commanded to relax, but it worked. Falling backwards, my back sank into the cushion behind me and I felt my eyes roll with the effort to stay conscious.

“Tell me your name.”

Drowsily, my head lulled to the side and I did what I was trained never to do—I met the gaze of a Pureblood. “Emelie.” I didn’t even sound like myself. It was as if I was hearing things from underwater.

“Tell me what happened to your face, Emelie.”

My name.

He’d said my name.

It sounded weird when he said it. He’d enunciated it differently. Actually, he enunciated everything differently. He had such a thick, European accent.

“Prince Ricco,” I breathed.

With a soft hum, he reached out and touched my cheek. I just stared at him, stunned by how my body had reacted, how I’d immediately pressed my face into his palm. “He always was a real prick.”

“Yes.” Vacantly, alarm bells were sounding in my head, but it was hard to hear them with all the humming. “He’s the worst.”

“Cortez is the worst,” King Rosario stated.

I slipped my hand over the mans’, fingertips gliding over rings adorning each of his knuckles. Why did he hate King Cortez? “He saved me.”

“Cortez?”

I nodded.

“Hm.”

The humming stopped and, tiredly, my hazy vision cleared.

Clutching a Purebloods hand, staring directly at him—pulling backwards, out of his grasp, I straightened my back, moving to a more alert position on the couch, my hands clasped into tight, trembling fists at my thighs.

“You may rest here or you may go.”

Staring down at my fists, I didn’t understand what was happening. “You said you’d ordered for a maid,” I said in a shaky voice.

“I lied.” His tone was brisk.

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence.

Then, “I should, uh, go back to work.”

The King hummed in agreement. It was a deep sound, almost haunting.

It was the sound that made me relax.

Made me lose all inhibition.

Stumbling to my feet, clutching onto my cart, I kept my eyes down as I backed out of the room, away from the man who’d just manipulated me into answering his questions.

He always was a real prick.

Cortez is the worst.

His words kept playing in my head on repeat, our conversation bothering me more and more.

Shivering, I wondered if I hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.