KYLA’s POV
I immediately stopped to listen, my heart racing with the worry that I might have done something wrong. I retraced my steps in my mind, trying to understand what had led to the woman raising her hand.
As she lowered her hand and called for the guard standing behind me, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I exhaled slowly, grateful that the situation hadn’t escalated further. My thoughts were still clouded with uncertainty, but I was thankful for the moment of reprieve.
The elegant dining room was filled with an array of exquisite dishes, so beautifully arranged that they seemed to beckon me closer. My maid gracefully pulled out a chair for me, and with a soft smile, I took my seat, mindful of the lessons in poise she had imparted. With deliberate care, I reached across the polished table and picked up the delicate napkin, placing it gently on my thigh, embodying the composure of a true lady.
As I gazed over the lavish spread before me, my eyes danced from one sumptuous dish to another, each one more enticing than the last. The table was a visual feast, a testament to culinary artistry that promised flavors beyond my imagination. The aroma enveloped me, intensifying my desire to indulge.
With a sense of purpose, I began to savor the meal, my movements deliberate and refined. Each bite was an explosion of flavor, and before I could stop myself, a soft “hmm” escaped my lips, a spontaneous reaction to the exquisite taste that thrilled my palate. The rich blend of spices and textures was simply irresistible.
I caught sight of my maid stifling a chuckle, and my mother-in-law turned her gaze toward me, her eyebrows raised in amusement. A rush of embarrassment flooded my cheeks, and I instinctively glanced down, my fingers gripping my fork as I continued to eat, vowing to maintain my decorum.
The atmosphere was light, yet tinged with formality, and when my mother-in-law gestured for the maid to bring me more food, I felt a mix of gratitude and shyness. With a small bow of my head, I expressed my appreciation, my voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you, her majesty.” The moment was a delicate balance of elegance and humility, a dance I was learning to navigate with each passing meal.
We sat in a hush, the clinking of silverware the only sound breaking the stillness of the dining room. Suddenly, a guard approached, his expression serious as he leaned in to whisper urgent words into my mother-in-law’s ear. Her eyes widened, and without a second thought, she rose from her seat, the graceful movement of her chair scraping softly against the floor as she left the table.
My maid gently nudged my arm, a subtle hint for me to stand as a sign of respect for my departing mother-in-law. I understood her cue instantly and rose to my feet, bowing slightly as she exited the room, the air thick with her sudden departure.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” my maid murmured, her voice laced with regret for having prompted me that way.
I raised my hand elegantly, mimicking the poised gesture of a queen in a movie, signaling that she was forgiven. A soft chuckle bubbled up inside me, a blend of amusement and satisfaction at the little performance. At that moment, I felt a sense of respect and dignity enveloping me, adding a touch of warmth to my heart.
I settled into my chair with an air of satisfaction, the remnants of my meal lingering on my plate. My gaze drifted over to my mother-in-law's untouched plate, left behind in her haste. It was a veritable feast, piled high with colorful dishes, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at the thought of such delicious food going to waste.
“I can't let that go to waste,” I murmured under my breath, the thought echoing in my mind as I reached across the table and scooped a generous portion onto my plate. In our household, every morsel was cherished, a testament to the labor and care that went into preparing even the simplest of meals. Food was not something to be taken lightly; it was a precious resource that we sometimes needed to fight for.
I glanced over at my maid, hoping to share the abundance of this feast, but she shyly shook her head, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she glanced down at the floor. I understood her hesitation; perhaps she felt improper in the midst of my gluttony. Unfazed, I dove into the delightful array of flavors before me, my hunger transforming into a ravenous appetite as I savored each bite, my stomach swelling with satisfaction.
This was unlike any meal I had ever experienced; the grandeur of the offerings was almost surreal, a welcome departure from the modest servings I had known all my life. I could feel the eyes of the other maids upon me, their expressions ranging from curiosity to astonishment as they observed my unabashed enjoyment. But I paid them no mind, lost in the exquisite flavors and the sheer joy of indulgence.
GIBSON's POV
I sat upon my ornate throne, the weight of my crown pressing down as I surveyed the young man brought before me, a criminal caught in the act of espionage within my lands. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows across the stone walls, highlighting the tension in the air. “Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice echoing through the chamber with a commanding authority.
He stood defiantly, soaked in moonlight streaming through the high windows, an embodiment of stubbornness despite his disheveled appearance. Captured just after my wedding celebrations, he bore the marks of recent torture, yet he clung fiercely to his silence. I had insisted he be brought before me, intent on uncovering the truth.
“I’d rather die than utter a word,” he proclaimed, his voice steady, laced with unwarranted bravado. Anger surged through me, fueling my resolve. How dared he raises his voice in the presence of royalty? What audacity coursed through his veins to challenge me so boldly?
Rising from my throne, I descended gracefully, my presence magnified by an ethereal glow. My power enveloped me, lifting me effortlessly into the air as I floated closer to him, the gravity of his fate hanging between us. With a subtle wave of my hand, I commanded my guards to release their grip on him, the sound of clinking chains falling silent as he stood there, bewildered yet unyielding.