Read with BonusRead with Bonus

Chapter 5 - A tale of Lark

"Your highness..."

I blurted.

"You are not Lady Isabelle so who are you? And what are you doing here in her place?!"

I stood in Prince Rowan's dimly lit chamber, my heart thudding in my chest, the truth hanging heavy in the air between us. He had discovered my secret— I was not Lady Isabelle, the consequences were dire. How would I tell him the real Lady Isabelle was dead?

How would I tell him she had killed herself so she would not be married to him?

How could I tell him that?

I could see the disappointment etched on his face, the anger simmering in his bloodshot eyes. His order rang in my ears, harsh and final.

"Leave. Now."

Panic surged through me, gripping my soul in its icy fingers. Leave?

If I leave I would die. There was no other fate for me than death. I dropped to my knees, my heart shattering with each sob that escaped my lips. "Please, Your Highness," I begged, my voice trembling. "You don't understand. If I leave, only death awaits me."

"I cannot leave. I'm a slave and my former master will kill me if I return."

Prince Rowan's gaze was cold, indifferent. "Staying here is no better for you," he replied, his tone as hard as stone.

Desperation clawed at me. I couldn't go back to the Carstairs, to the torment and abuse. What would I even tell them?

How would I explain their daughter's death?

I crawled closer, the dirty marbled floor scraping my knees, but I didn't care. I had to make him understand. "I beg you," I cried, clutching at his dirt-streaked sheets. "Take me as your slave if you must. I will do anything, as long as I don't have to go back."

"Let me clean your quarters, your room, care for you. I'll do anything!"

My tears fell onto the filthy floor, mixing with the dust and grime. I looked up at him, my vision blurred by tears. "I don't care about how this place looks. I don't even mind the smell, you are my master and I'll serve you all the same, Your Highness, with all my heart."

Rowan's silence was deafening, but it wasn't a refusal. I still clung to that glimmer of hope. Slowly, I began to rise, my resolve strengthening. "I'll start now," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

"I'll start cleaning up now and you will see that you need me."

The room was a mess, reflecting the chaos and neglect of its occupant. I started with peeling off the extra layers of clothing on me. There was no need for them since I would have to clean the room.

I could feel the Prince's eyes on me as I took off my gloves and removed the extra layers of my dress.

I would clean.

I would make him see that I was not totally worthless and shouldn't be discarded.

I found a bucket and filled it with water, my hands trembling as I gathered a rag. This would be my penance, my proof of loyalty.

I started with the floors, they were grimy and dirty. I scrubbed the floors with vigor, my tears mingling with the water as I worked. I could feel Rowan's eyes on me, a silent sentinel in the corner of the room. His presence was a constant reminder of my fragile situation. But I refused to let fear paralyze me. Each stroke of the rag was a prayer, a plea for mercy.

"I'll make this place worthy of you," I murmured, more to myself than to him. The grime seemed endless, but so was my determination. I scrubbed until my fingers ached, until the water turned black with filth. I moved to the shelves, wiping away years of neglect, revealing the rich wood beneath.

As I worked, my mind wandered to the events that had brought me here. I couldn't go back, if I did, I would have to pay for Isabelle Carstairs death. A death that I would be blamed for whether or not I was found guilty.

Hours passed, and the room slowly transformed. I opened as many blinds as I could, so that fresh air could come in.

I gathered the musty, sticky clothing and dirty sheets and put them in the bathroom for later. The floor began to shine, the air grew fresher. I was exhausted, my body protesting with every movement, but I couldn't stop. Not until I had shown him my worth.

Finally, I approached Prince Rowan, who had been watching in silence.  I would have to change his sheets and clean him up, but that would require me moving him to his wheelchair. And from the looks of the wheelchair one leg was broken.

Prince Rowan's eyes were inscrutable, his expression unreadable. I knelt before him once more, my hands raw and bleeding from the work. "I'm not done yet. But can you see what I can do?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please, let me stay."

He said nothing, but his gaze softened, just a fraction. It was enough. I took a deep breath, bowing my head. "I'll continue to serve you, to prove my loyalty," I promised. "I'll make your life easier, in any way I can."

Rowan's silence stretched, but I held my position, waiting. I knew better than to push him for an answer.

........

I later stepped out of Prince Rowan's room, the door creaking slightly behind me as it closed. I needed more supplies—the Prince's quarters were in desperate need of a thorough cleaning, and I was determined to restore at least a semblance of dignity to his neglected quarters .

As I hurried down the corridor, I saw the guards stationed in front of his quarters, staring at me menacingly. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. A tall man with a wiry frame and a perpetual sneer etched into his face. His eyes glinted with malice as they locked onto mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Ah, you must be the Prince's new bride," he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm Lark, the steward who once had the misfortune of attending to our dear Prince Rowan."

I forced a polite smile, hoping to mask my unease. "Nice to meet you, Lark. I was just looking for where to get some more cleaning supplies."

Lark stepped closer, his sneer deepening. "Cleaning supplies? What a good excuse! You might as well get used to it, girl. The Prince's quarters will be your new home, and I wouldn't harbor any foolish thoughts of escape if I were you."

"The guards stationed here wouldn't let you even get past this hallway without an order from the King. You can't ever leave the Prince's quarters."

My heart sank at his words, but I maintained my composure. "Why would I want to escape? I am the Prince's wife. I am here to serve him."

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the corridor. "Serve the Prince, indeed. Let me remind you, my dear. Prince Rowan is not the heir to the throne. He is the disgraced prince, cast aside and forgotten. Nobody here cares about him, nobody here wants to deal with him. You were brought here to care for him for however long he shall live. The crown wouldn't provide a single coin for him. Honestly, I sometimes think they're waiting for him to stop clinging to life and die.”

I stared at him, shocked. "But he's still a prince! How can they expect him to fend for himself if they won't provide him with anything."

Lark's eyes glinted as he glanced at the necklace around my neck. His hand shot out, and he grasped the pendant, lifting it slightly. "This looks valuable. How about we start with this?"

I jerked back, clutching the necklace protectively. "No! This is mine. You can't take it."

It was the one thing. The only link I had to my birth mother. The only thing she left to me. I couldn't lose it.

I must never lose it.

His sneer turned into a snarl. "Fine, have it your way." He roughly grabbed my wrists and yanked off the gold bangles, then reached up to rip the earrings from my ears. Pain shot through me, but I refused to cry out.

"These will fetch some coins," he said, inspecting the jewelry before pocketing them.

"I'll fetch you the cleaning supplies you need. Maybe some ingredients for some soup if this can pay for that too."

I glared at him, my hands trembling with anger and humiliation. "This isn't right," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Lark ignored my protest. "One last thing," he said, turning to leave. "Prince Rowan is on a liquid diet. Only feed him soups, he can't stomach anything else."

With that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving me standing there, seething with a mix of anger and confusion. How had I ended up in this situation? What had Prince Rowan done to deserve such treatment?

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter