Yvonne's POV
"My lady, the King has forbidden you from consuming meat—fish included," Klara repeated for what must have been the fifth time. I do not exaggerate. It was as though she believed I had not heard her the first time, or that I had not stood inside Annaliese when that madman of a king issued the decree. But I was not Annaliese. Why, then, must I suffer the same restrictions?
I cast a glance down at the pale, unappetizing fare before me. Though hunger gnawed at my insides, I could not bring myself to touch it. I did not even know what it was meant to be.
Before I could utter a word in protest, the great dining doors burst open. A maid stumbled through and collapsed to the floor before she could reach me. I rose swiftly, heart leaping, and hurried to her side. She was gasping for air, trembling.
"M-My lady… the King…" she stammered, the words lost to her labored breathing.
Klara crouched beside her as the other servants rushed forward.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice edged with dread. The girl's face was pale as bone, her eyes wide with terror—as though she had glimpsed something from the depths of a nightmare.
Then, without warning, the other servants straightened where they stood. I saw it in their eyes—not surprise, but recognition. As though they already knew.
The maid at my feet clutched at my leg. "My lady, I beg you—save me! I served you that day, but I knew nothing of the poison!"
Poison? The word echoed in my mind.
Klara looked just as bewildered, though hers was born of language—she did not understand the girl's tongue.
Before I could question further, armed guards surged into the chamber. They seized the maid at once. She screamed and fought, clinging to me.
"Please—please, my lady—I do not wish to die! I swear I know nothing! My brother depends on me, I—please!"
I could endure it no longer. They dragged her like a rag, blind to her tears, deaf to her pleas. My blood boiled.
"Unhand her. At once."
The guards halted, turning to me. "But, Your Majesty, the King has ordered it."
I stepped forward. "Then hear me now—I command it."
They hesitated, uncertain. I did not wait. I tore the maid from their grasp, and she rushed behind me, trembling.
"I know not what madness this is, but take me to the King," I ordered.
They obeyed. We left the dining hall behind, the girl trailing close, her soft sobs echoing through the corridors.
At last, we reached the courtyard—and what I beheld stole the breath from my lungs.
It was a massacre.
A dozen servants lay slain, their blood pooling thick upon the stones. The living stood as though frozen in time—some fainted, others shivered where they knelt. My gaze turned to the figure at the center of the carnage.
The King.
Blood stained his garments, his hands, even his face. His sword dripped with it. He looked not like a man, but a creature loosed from the depths of some dark legend.
Then he turned—and his eyes found mine. I could not speak. My throat was tight with horror. But his gaze slipped past me, to the girl behind. She fell to her knees, wailing.
And then I understood. The ladies-in-waiting, the maids, the servants who ought to have attended me—absent. Teresa had summoned them away. Only Klara had remained. I had thought little of it. Now, I saw them all. None of the ladies in waiting were dead—they knelt, heads bowed in silent terror.
But the others…
I saw her. The fair-haired maid with the bright smile—gone. Her body lay still, that smile stolen forever.
"Come to me," the King said.
His voice snapped me from my daze. Cold. Inhuman.
The girl behind me clung to my skirts. I swallowed. My eyes drifted to the bloodied sword. Would he strike me if I defied him? The answer was clear.
"If you want her," I said, my voice trembling, "you shall have to go through me."
A silence fell—so deep, even the cries ceased. The air stilled.
His eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, menace radiating from every movement. The sword in his hand dripped steadily. Each drop was a drumbeat of doom.
"I will not repeat myself," he said. Quiet. Controlled. The hush before a tempest.
The maid rose, but I held her fast, never breaking his gaze. My heart thundered, my skin prickled with fear, but I would not yield.
"You've gone mad," I said, voice hoarse with rage. "Look at what you've done—for what cause?"
He did not so much as glance at the fallen. His lips twitched, cruelly amused.
Then, like death himself, he raised the sword and pressed it to my neck.
"Annaliese," he said. The name was no longer a name—it was a sentence. Cold. Hollow.
"Move aside. Now."
Each word landed like the tolling of a funeral bell. No emotion. No remorse. Only authority.
But I did not move. I could not. The trembling girl behind me anchored me to the earth. And the blood—the endless sea of blood—screamed for someone to stand.
His sword remained at my throat. He leaned in—only slightly—but it was enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath, tainted with the scent of steel and slaughter.
"I asked kindly," he murmured, his voice low as sin. His gaze flicked to my lips, then returned to my eyes with quiet menace. "But it seems you've forgotten your station. Do you truly believe you can shield them now?"
I said nothing. My jaw tensed, defiance swelling in my chest.
He tilted his head, as though mildly entertained. "You are mine, Annaliese. This kingdom—every stone, every soul—belongs to me. That includes your mercy. Your fear. And most certainly…"
The blade slipped from my throat, only to trace the line of my collarbone. A sting bloomed as it cut, just shallow enough to bleed.
"…your defiance."
I dared not breathe. Behind me, the girl sobbed louder, her terror like a shroud.
"Make your choice, my queen," he said, almost gently. "Step aside… or bleed in her stead."