If she had known that he was the king, she would not have thought he was the one to give someone princess treatment.
His eyes were cold, like no light could ever seep in. His voice was intimidating, one that would make you bow at his feet just by hearing it. And if you stayed close to him, you could feel your feet crumbling and your posture staggering.
Madeline clasped her mouth to prevent a frantic cry from escaping. The person she had spoken to weeks ago turned out to be the king. Although he had wronged her by calling her a slave, she had stood up for herself; she had challenged him.
Did he know it was her all along? She doubted he did, or he wouldn't be giving her princess treatment.
"We meet again," he said, narrowing his eyes. There was no hint of a smile on his face, not even a curve from his mouth, which brought more fear to her. She was sure he would not buy from her.
What must she do? She had to do something. This was for her family; she must do something so her family would have food to eat. No matter what, she must not leave the castle until she convinced him.
"My King," she went on her knees and bowed her head to his feet, "Forgive me, my king."
"For what?" His voice was calm when he spoke, but that did not remove the fear she felt.
"The other day, my manner-"
"Get up." There was frustration laced in his voice, like he didn't bring her here for her banter.
She quickly got up, but her head remained hung low. How could she meet his gaze when his eyes seemed to crunch her?
"Raise your head up," his tone was commanding, enough to make her obey his orders.
She did so slowly, her heart beating fast. The fact that she had come here to tell him not to treat her like a princess, all of it had been left on her tongue, refusing to slip out of her mouth for fear of this intimidating figure.
When he left the wall, she stepped away, her face turning red from the burning flame. He did not stop walking towards her despite her hesitation and the fact that she was shifting backward.
What would he do to her? Punish her for her carelessness?
Madeline bowed her head. She would not meet his gaze, for a lowly maiden like her was not even fit to be in the same room as the king, breathing his air.
"What instruction did I give, damn," he cursed.
Madeline once more raised her head, her eyes flickering. "Forgive me, dear king."
"Have you not come to show me something?" He tilted his head. "I heard you complain about the dress I sent." His eyes hovered over her.
Madeline gulped. Yes, she did complain, but who had told the king? Was it the castle maidens?
"I do love the dress, my king. It is a beautiful dress," she forced herself to smile despite her racing heart.
The king nodded and again, walked closer towards her, much closer that she could get a glimpse of his face clearly.
The first thing that caught her attention was his eyes. How can one have eyes that hold no soul? They were bland, as if he had never seen any light at all. One would not want to anger him, for he looked as if he had no soul and would not waste any time in beheading someone.
She could picture him in that carriage, how he had looked at her, as if she were indeed a slave girl. It was no different from how he looked at her now, yet he was standing close to her. Did she not repulse him?
"What are you thinking?" the king asked, still watching her.
"Oh, nothing, my king," she said, wiping her dress even though there was nothing there.
"I see you have just arrived," he said, his eyes cold, his voice equally so.
"Yes, my king," she replied.
"I have asked the maiden to attend to you; do not refuse it," he said again, surprising her.
She would have refused, not wanting any special treatment, but found it hard to deny the king.
"Yes, of course," she said, offering a curtsey.
He shifted back and started heading towards the door. It was then that she realized she had been holding her breath.
"There will be a royal ball, nobles from far and wide will be present. You will attend," he said, now standing at the door, backing her.
"What, na- yes, I will," she replied.
"Good, the maidens will attend to you." After saying this, he left the room.
Madeline facepalmed herself. What was with this treatment, and why did she have to accept it? Her head spun, and if she hadn't held herself, she would have fallen to the ground.
"Dear God, help me," she whispered, holding her head.