Page 31 of Royal Captive
What a pleasant man. Fae. Whatever.
Wait, what debt?
I tore out of there, back to the house.
Kitchen wench was sad to see me, a knowing glint in her eye as she stared down at my foot. I glanced down and jumped, seeing a severed, webbed hand still wrapped around my ankle. Shaking it off and trying not to look like my spirit had almost lost my body, I scowled at her and went my way back to my bunk. A worn but thankfully dry dress awaited me on my bunk, and I gratefully put it on.
Thankfully, the rest of the day was filled with easier chores and no more bone-chilling lakes. The cold lingered in my bones, though, and I couldn’t get warm no matter how hard I worked.
And I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Cassus’s ‘rescue’ would have deep reaching consequences.
Eventually, another bell dinged somewhere in the house’s depths, signaling an end to chores. Men and women alike cheered, everyone heading back toward the kitchen.
My stomach growled loudly.
“Thank the gods. I’d eat the thing in the lake,” Annie remarked next to me. Together we put our hands on the massive wooden banister, and ran down the staircase to the main hall, following the crowd to the back of the house toward the kitchen.
My nostrils flared at the reminder, but she didn’t seem to mean anything by it.
The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, drawing me to it like a fly to honey. A line formed, and I got behind a blond male with green eyes. He turned and gave me a look like I still had shit on me from earlier today.
“Newbies to the back of the line,” he grunted out.
I was itching for a fight to warm my blood.
“Make me,” I growled back, taking a step forward to get in his face. I had at least an inch on him, and as we went toe-to-toe, worry flickered in his eyes.
He saw it too.
“Eve, come stand with me?” Annie’s eyes begged me to follow her to the back. My eyes narrowed. I couldn’t show weakness. I couldn’t back down.
WHAM.
Blondie went down hard, clutching his face and squealing like a pig as I punched his nose. I tucked a stray hair from my braid behind my ear, purposefully ignoring my throbbing knuckles.
“I’m going to the back of the line because I choose to, not because you’re making me,” I sneered, eyeing everyone else in line.
Their eyes shifted away from me, looking anywhere else.
I followed Annie to the back.
“Why did you do that? You’re going to get in trouble?” she whispered frantically.
A laugh escaped my throat. “I’ve been in trouble my entire life, Annie.”
The line moved slowly but consistently. Men and women passed by us on their way out with steaming bowls of soup, and thick, meaty sandwiches. My stomach churned and growled.
Finally, it was my turn. I made it to the front, which was unfortunately manned by the same kitchen wench who’d kicked us out to the pond. Her expression flattened when she saw me.
She readied the next plate, then leaned over me and gave it to Annie.
“I—”
“Bowen is my son, you little bitch,” she trilled brightly, a malicious gleam in her eyes. At my blank look, her eyes narrowed. “The blond man you punched. Go starve.”
I stepped forward, but Annie grabbed my arm. “Don’t. Please. You can have half of mine. It’s no big deal.”
The kitchen lady laughed. “Half? That horse of a woman needs more than half!”
