The Fae Serenade.

MONSTER.

GLOSSARY (ENTAILS WORDS AND TERMINOLOGIES USED IN THIS UNIVERSE.): I'll be using real life comparison to pass my point across clearly.

DENARII: It's equivalent to gold. A denarii coin is worth ten dollars. A bag of denarii means there's a thousand coins of denarii in it, meaning a bag is worth ten thousand dollars. Lady Gwendolyn and Lord Emmett were willing to pay 25 bags of denarii for Olivia, which is equivalent to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in real life.

CHAPTER SIX.

“What the hell is happening, Sven? Why is my toy scurrying away?” Lord Emmett yells, approaching just as King Sven rises to his feet. Emmett’s crimson-red eyes burn with fury, and I quickly slip behind King Sven, clutching his cloak to keep myself hidden from the man’s gaze.

Lady Gwendolyn joins her husband's side, a crease on her forehead as she glares daggers at King Sven. “And what is the meaning of all this? Might I remind you that we came all the way here to pay a fair price for that,” she punctuates her last word, flicking a dirty glance at me to emphasize her point.

“I don't remember making a deal with any of you prior to this meeting,” King Sven replies calmly. “But I have decided I no longer wish to sell.”

“And if I may ask, why is that? You sure do not need a Fae slave,” Lady Gwendolyn snaps.

“Maybe I have found a purpose for her to remain by my side,” King Sven answers. “I own her, so only I have the right to do whatever I want to with her.”

Lady Gwendolyn steps forward, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Sven owning a slave? How quaint. And here I thought the mighty Alpha King didn't partake in such barbaric practice, or wasn't that what you said after the conquest of Eris wall?”

“I was a child. Besides, what happened to those three thousand Fae you took as prisoner of war during the fall?”

“Rotting underground,” Lady Gwendolyn replies. “Fae blood is one of the sweetest out there. Give that Fae to us, Sven. We'll double the price if we have to. Sell or we won't leave.”

I swallow hard at the mention of ‘Fae blood,’ not wanting to imagine what my people went through in their hands. There are ten Kingdoms in this universe, and six of those kingdoms were allies with King Sven during the war. After the war, hundreds of thousands of my people were shared as slaves and meat amongst the allies of the Kingdom of Māui; Nyxara, Cessi, Mortem, Gnomes, Orcs and Selenium.

“Speak Sven,” Lady Gwendolyn demands.

“Becareful how you raise your voice to me, Gwendolyn. You are a guest in my kingdom, remember?” King Sven tilts his head slightly, his posture unwavering, his voice a smooth, lethal calm.

“You can play the king all you want, but we both know who truly holds the power. I came here with a promise. A transaction. Emmett and I won’t leave without that.”

“I won’t repeat myself, Gwendolyn,” King Sven says, his voice hardening. “This Fae is no longer for sale. Whatever price you think she’s worth, I suggest you forget it. Or shall I make my point clearer?”

A flicker of anger crosses Emmett’s face. “You think you can just deny us like this? After calling us all the way from our Kingdom?”

“Do I need to carve this in stone for you to remember? I didn’t call you. You arrived here, uninvited. And I’ve ignored your insolence long enough. Leave unless you want to start a war, or is there a particular reason why you both are hell-bent on having her?”

Lady Gwendolyn’s smile fades, her eyes narrowing as she exchanges a glance with her husband. For the first time, a note of uneasiness lingers in her gaze. I can tell there's more to why they want to buy me. King Sven notices that also and he chuckles darkly.

“I was right. I don’t care to know your reasons. Leave my kingdom while I’m still feeling generous.”

“Are you truly willing to make enemies out of us over a slave, Sven Magnusson?” Lord Emmett asks.

“Perhaps you have been suffering from memory loss of late, Emmett Elrod,” King Sven says coldly. “Nyxara and Māui have been enemies since time immemorial. Just because we joined forces during the war doesn't mean we're allies. Be careful, I heard the Kingdom of Cessi, Gnomes and Orcs are forming an alliance. Who knows? Your walls might fall down soon.”

Silence fills the council chambers, one so thick it feels almost suffocating and I can hear someone's heartbeat resonating.

Oh, it's mine.

Lord Emmett clenches his pale fist, his jaw tight. Then, he glances at his wife who looks back at him, as though they're trying to communicate through their eyes. After a while, Lord Emmett straightens, clearing his throat.

“We will return,” he says at last, voice taut with restrained rage. “But don't think we'll ever forget this disrespect. Gwendolyn and I would be looking forward to your downfall, we'll make sure of that. And the next time we step foot in this kingdom, it'll be when your walls have fallen.”

King Sven doesn’t respond.

With a sharp turn, Lady Gwendolyn and Lord Emmett walk away, their footsteps echoing as they disappear from the council chambers.

When they’re out of sight, I finally let out a shaky breath, my fingers loosening from King Sven’s cloak. He turns to look at me, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Isadora,” he calls to his beta, looking away from me. “Take the Fae. Tell the palace maids to prepare her for my arrival tonight.”

“Yes, my King,” Isadora replies and I'm suddenly reminded of my fate.

As Isadora drags me out of the council chambers, there's a sudden uproar amongst the council members.

“What do you mean you're taking a Fae as a slave, King Sven?” one of the council member demands.

“Your father and grandfather would be rolling in their graves right now,” piped one of the three females amongst them.

“Wolves don't dine with vampires. Making an alliance with the undead nine years ago has to be our biggest mistake.”

“Kill the Fae. They're cursed, we shouldn't be harboring one in the Kingdom,” another adds, and everyone in the chamber agrees.

I almost scoff. If only they knew their beloved Alpha King was half Fae—and mated to one.

Before I can hear King Sven's response, Isadora drags me out of the council chambers and leads me through the corridor until we get to another room. It's a room similar to King Sven's, but smaller and with bright touches of color. There's a window in the room, and I can't help the little glimmer of hope that swells in my heart at the thought of being able to find my freedom through this window.

“Don’t try to escape,” As though she can read my thoughts, Isadora warns me, and I slowly turn to meet her gaze which is now softer. “The window is bound by a spell to trap whatever is within.”

“Oh,” I find myself saying, disappointed.

Isadora glances away, clearing her throat, almost as if caught off guard by her own words. “You have a bump on your forehead,” she says, gesturing awkwardly. “I’ll have the maids bring an ointment for it.”

I touch my forehead, wincing at the tenderness before bringing my gaze back to her, confused by the sudden shift in her character. “Why are you… doing this?” My voice is barely a whisper, but I need to know.

“Doing what?”

“Acting nice.”

“I'm not acting.”

“Really? Because I can clearly remember you kicking me to the floor in the council chambers.”

“About that, I'm sorry. But I couldn't disobey the King,” She replies, giving me an apologetic look. “You should rest. The maids will be here soon.”

She leaves immediately, while I'm left trying to process the change in her demeanor. It's confusing, unsettling even.

I barely have time to dwell on this before the door creaks open and three palace maids enter. The moment they see me, their faces twist into sneers, their eyes filled with disdain. One of them, a woman with short black hair and a thin, pointed nose, steps forward and scowls. I can tell she's in charge with the way she carries herself.

“A Fae in our king's palace,” she mutters under her breath. “He should’ve thrown you in the dungeons to rot, not given you a chamber.”

The shorter of the trio nods in agreement as she adds, “Madam Leticia, my mother told me stories about how cursed their kind is.”

“Cursed, indeed,” the one called Leticia sneers. “Why the king is sparing her, I’ll never understand.”

They roughly pull me to the washroom, shoving me into a hot bath. The heat stings, but I hold my tongue. I may be at King Sven’s mercy, but I haven’t surrendered my will.

I don’t plan on staying at the palace for long, either. I have months ahead of me to find a way out of this domain and go look for my brother.

“She’ll be dead soon enough,” the third one mutters, scrubbing my arm with unnecessary force. I’m suddenly reminded that this is my first bath in a week. “He can’t possibly keep her here for long, not with everyone in the palace wanting her gone. And let’s hope he doesn’t upgrade her… to a concubine.”

“She's too ugly to be a concubine. Besides the whole palace has seen her womanhood, she's no different from a w***e,” Leticia laughs. “And as long as those shackles remain on her legs, she's nothing but dirt.”

I remain unaffected by their words. It's nothing compared to everything I've been through so far.

After what feels like an eternity, they finish with me. The shackles on my ankles remain, but I'm dressed in the finest garment I've ever seen. It's a layer of silk with velvet red-threaded embroidery that clings like a robe, luxurious yet exposing, leaving my chest nearly bare. They style my sandy brown hair in a low ponytail before rubbing an ointment, which I assume is from Isadora, onto my forehead. Leticia tilts her head, scrutinizing me with a mixture of satisfaction and disdain before motioning for the others to follow her out.

“At least she looks a bit less… ugly now. More fitting for a King to bed her,” she mutters before they file out.

I sit on the edge of the bed, clenching my fingers as I wait for King Sven. A strange mix of anger and despair swirling within my chest as realization dawns on me —I'll be losing my virginity to the one man that took everything away from me.

The monster I hate.

“But it's only a matter of time,” I mutter to myself, holding on to the last bit of hope within me.

The creaking sound of the door opening startles me, and I look up, expecting to see King Sven. Instead, I'm met with a tall woman with striking onyx eyes and long dark hair entering. She’s draped in fine silks. Her gaze settles on me, her lips painted black curving into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“So, you are the cursed one everyone has been whispering about,” she says in a smooth, calculating tone, taking in my appearance with a raised brow. “I am Katniss Whitlock, King Sven’s future Luna.”