I turned slowly, my heart pounding, and looked in the king's direction. I dared not meet his gaze directly; instead, I fixed my eyes on anything within reach—anything to avoid his face. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Marcus's stare. He gestured for me to step forward, his expression sharp with urgency.
I hesitated only for a moment before taking a few quick steps, bowing slightly as a gesture of respect. The weight of the room seemed to press down on me, making it difficult to move.
With my head still lowered, I noticed Marcus slipping out, almost unnoticed.
Why is he leaving?
Is he really going to leave me alone with the king?
My unease grew with every passing second, and as I heard the soft click of the door closing behind him, a cold knot twisted in my stomach.
"Look up," the king commanded, his voice deep and calm.
I obeyed immediately, raising my head, adjusting my posture. My eyes flickered upwards, but I still couldn't summon the courage to meet his directly.
For a moment, he just stared at me, his silence thick and heavy. The weight of his gaze was unbearable, making me feel as though the air had been sucked out of the room.
"Who is your father?" he asked at last, his voice breaking through the tense quiet.
The question hit me like a blow, and I stammered, trying to find my words. "I… I… I'm… the daughter of… of… actually, my parents are… dead, Your Highness." The truth spilled out awkwardly, my throat tight. I hadn't expected such a question, not from him, not now. But at least I managed to say something. I braced myself for further questions, but none came. He simply let the matter rest after learning they were gone.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, his voice soft and unexpectedly gentle.
"You know, I can relate to that," he added, almost as if speaking more to himself than to me.
His expression changed then, softening in an instant, and for a brief moment, I saw past the title—past the crown—and glimpsed the man beneath it. A pang of sympathy, or perhaps something deeper, surged through me.
"It's hard," I said, surprising myself with the calmness in my voice, "and it seems to get harder every day, but… we'll be alright, someday—soon." The words left my lips before I could stop them, as though they had been resting on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be spoken. I sounded like I had known him for years, like we shared the same burden.
His reaction took me by surprise. His eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, I saw something in them that made me falter. I wasn't sure if it was gratitude or something more profound. Either way, my sudden burst of confidence dissolved.
"I'm sorry, my king," I stammered, hastily shifting my stance, trying to steady myself as though I could collect the confidence I had just lost.
He didn't seem angry, though. Instead, he said in a voice so fragile it startled me, "I can't remember the last time someone spoke to me with such care and concern."
In that instant, something shifted inside me. I wasn't sure if it was pity, empathy, or something I couldn't yet name. But I felt it deeply. I realized, then, that I didn't just want to follow the court mistress's orders—I wanted to help him for reasons beyond duty. Something in him called out to me, and I couldn't ignore it.
"Your Highness," I said, my voice soft but steady. "Soon, you'll be surrounded by more caring words and gestures than you can count. That's why I was chosen, and I promise, I'll make sure you're alright."
For the first time, I looked him directly in the eyes, and I held that gaze. "I'm here for you… I mean, I am at your service." I quickly corrected myself, feeling the rush of formality slipping away, yet knowing I had already spoken too earnestly.
He gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Thank you," he said quietly, his tone warm.
"It's late," he added after a pause, his voice regaining its calm authority. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be a long day—court will be in session."
"You are dismissed."
"Thank you, Your Highness," I said, bowing deeply, and I turned to leave.
As I walked down the corridor, heading back to my quarters, I couldn't shake the contrast between the king I had heard so much about and the man I had just encountered in that room. The stories I'd been told painted him as cold, distant—almost unapproachable. But the king I met tonight? He was nothing like that.
Is this really King Valen? Or someone entirely different? I whispered to myself, still amazed by the unexpected gentleness in his voice, the vulnerability I saw in his eyes.
He wasn't as terrible as I'd imagined—quite the opposite, in fact. A small smile tugged at my lips as I reflected on the encounter. "He's not so bad after all," I concluded, surprised by my own thoughts.
With that, I continued on my way, my heart a little lighter. By the time I reached my room, I felt almost content. My first day on duty had turned out better than I could have expected.
As I prepared to retire for the night, I couldn't help but feel that perhaps this role would be different from what I had feared.
———————
The palace was stirring to life, the quiet morning giving way to the familiar hum of activity. Servants bustled through the corridors, their hurried footsteps echoing off the stone floors. Guards stood vigilant at their posts, watchful eyes scanning the palace grounds. Everyone was absorbed in their tasks, and I wasn't left out. I had already risen early, standing alongside the others, waiting for the procession to the court.
The king emerged, and we fell into step behind him, making our way toward the courtroom. But something was off. The king's eyes were dimmed, his face almost haunted. He walked ahead of us, his expression cold and distant, as though a heavy weight pressed upon him.
I couldn't help but steal glances at him, my mind racing.
What could be troubling him so deeply? I had seen him only yesterday, vulnerable but calm. Now, there was something unsettling in his demeanor, something fearful, as if he were walking toward a fate he dreaded.