Chapter 5: Boundaries Pushed

Annora

It was happening again.

The first time, I thought nothing of it. The second time, I started to suspect. But now? I was certain. King Alaric kept summoning me to his chambers, not always for matters of great importance. Sometimes it was legitimate, something about palace affairs, a request for a report on the servants, or even a matter of decorum he wished my opinion on. But today, I knew better.

Today was one of those times.

I stood outside his chamber doors, my hands clasped together, willing my pulse to slow. The weight of my heart thumped against my ribs, and I hated it. I hated how he made me feel—like I was dancing on the edge of something dangerous or forbidden. I took a breath, lifted my chin, and knocked.

"Enter," came his voice, smooth and laced with authority.

The doors creaked as I stepped inside. As always, Alaric was already watching me when I entered. He sat in a grand chair near the window, his dark tunic unfastened at the collar, exposing just enough of his throat and collarbone to suggest carelessness. His raven-black hair was tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it too many times in thought.

"My King," I said, lowering into a curtsy.

"Annora," he greeted, and it was absurd how his voice alone sent a shiver through me. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten your King."

I lifted my gaze cautiously. "I would never, Your Majesty."

"Wouldn't you?" A small smirk played at his lips as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "You take your time arriving."

"I came as quickly as I was summoned," I replied, fighting the warmth creeping up my neck.

He hummed, a low sound that made something flutter deep in my stomach. "Good. I require your company."

My fingers curled into my skirt. Company. He had said it so easily, as if my presence alone was the task. "Do you require something specific, or shall I sit and stare at the walls?"

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Fiery today, aren't you?" He gestured to the empty chair beside him. "Come sit."

I hesitated, then obeyed, keeping my posture straight, hands neatly folded in my lap. The closer I got to him, the harder it was to focus. His scent—something dark and rich, like cedarwood and spice—wrapped around me, making my head light. He had been testing my boundaries more and more, and I feared I was beginning to fail his tests.

"Are you nervous, Annora?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"No," I lied.

His smirk deepened, and I knew he could hear my heartbeat. He could always hear it.

"Good," he said, shifting in his chair so that his knee almost touched mine. "I wouldn't want my presence to unnerve you."

Liar. He wanted exactly that.

I swallowed, staring at my hands. "You wished for my company, my King. What shall we discuss?"

His fingers brushed against my wrist. It was fleeting, barely there, but enough to send a jolt through me. I stiffened, my breath catching as I turned sharply to him. He was watching me, dark amusement in his gaze.

"You have lovely hands," he mused. "Soft. Not what one expects from a servant."

I snatched my hands away and placed them in my lap. "You summoned me to discuss my hands?"

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You wound me, Annora. I only seek conversation. I spend too much of my days drowning in council affairs, in the endless squabbling of nobles. I find I prefer your company to theirs."

My heart squeezed at his words, though I knew I shouldn't let them affect me. I was nothing to him but a passing amusement. He would find his Queen soon, and all of this—whatever this was—would be forgotten.

"I am honored, my King," I said carefully.

"Alaric," he corrected.

I blinked. "Your Majesty?"

He leaned in, his face far too close to mine. "You may call me Alaric. When we are alone."

I exhaled shakily, willing myself to keep a level head. He was playing a game, and I refused to be a pawn. "That would be improper."

"And yet," he mused, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind my ear, "you have not refused me."

My breath stalled. His fingers lingered against my cheek, the touch impossibly light yet searing into my skin. I should have moved. I should have pulled away. But I stayed frozen, caught in his gravity, unable to tear myself from him.

"Why do you do this?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Do what?" he asked, as if he did not know.

Break me. Unravel me. Make me hope for things I cannot have.

"Toy with me," I said instead.

Alaric's expression shifted—just slightly, but enough for me to notice. The amusement dimmed, something more unreadable taking its place. "Is that what you believe I am doing?"

I had to be careful now. If I angered him, I could lose everything. But if I let him continue, I could lose myself.

"Yes," I said, though my voice was softer than I intended.

Alaric exhaled, sitting back in his chair, eyes studying me. "You think I enjoy merely toying with you?"

"Do you not?"

He watched me for a long moment before shaking his head. "No, Annora. That is not what this is."

"Then what is it?" I asked, my heart hammering.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for my hand again, this time threading his fingers through mine, trapping me in his warmth. I should have pulled away, but I didn't. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand, slow and deliberate.

"I do not summon you simply for amusement," he murmured. "I summon you because I crave your presence. Because the moment you leave, I find myself searching for reasons to call you back."

My breath hitched. "You should not say such things."

"And yet I do," he countered.

I shook my head, trying to free my hand, but he tightened his grip—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep me still.

"You test me," I whispered.

His lips tilted into a slow, wicked smile. "Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because you are the only person who does not cower before me," he said, voice low and deep. "The only one who dares to challenge me. I find that... exhilarating."

I should have felt victorious at such a confession. Instead, I felt terrified.

This was dangerous. He was dangerous. The more I let him do this, the more I let myself feel, the harder it would be to walk away when he finally found his Queen. And he would find one. I was nothing more than a servant, a distraction before his real life began.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I stood, wrenching my hand free. "I should go."

Alaric didn't stop me this time. But he watched me—closely, deeply. As if he could see the war waging inside me.

"You will come when I summon you again," he said. It was not a question.

I hesitated, my heart betraying me. "Yes, my King."

His eyes darkened. "Alaric," he corrected.

I turned before I could answer and hurried out, my pulse roaring in my ears.

He was breaking me. And I feared he knew it.