Chapter 12 Eyes in the Shadows
Janelle
The feeling started three days after the feast. A prickle at the back of my neck. The sensation of being watched made my skin crawl and my wolf stir restlessly beneath the surface.
I'd turn around expecting to catch someone staring, but there was never anyone there, just empty corridors or servants going about their business with carefully averted eyes.
But the shadows moved wrong. Too quickly. Too deliberately.
I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid, that the stress of watching Adrian dance with Princess Sophia had finally broken something in my mind. But my wolf knew better. She prowled beneath my skin, hackles raised, sensing danger I couldn't yet see.
"You're jumpy as a rabbit in a fox den," Clara observed on Thursday morning as we folded linens in the servants' laundry room. The air was thick with steam and the scent of lye soap, but even here, surrounded by chattering maids, I felt exposed.
"I'm fine," I lied, my hands trembling slightly as I creased a sheet. The fabric was rough beneath my palms, grounding me in the present moment even as my eyes darted toward the doorway.
Clara's hazel eyes narrowed. "No, you're not. You keep looking over your shoulder like someone's about to grab you." She lowered her voice, glancing around at the other servants. "What's wrong?"
I wanted to tell her everything, about the shadows that seemed to follow me, about the way conversations stopped when I entered rooms, about the servant named Thomas who'd asked me yesterday which parts of the castle I cleaned and seemed far too interested in my answer. But the words stuck in my throat.
"It's nothing," I whispered.
"Janelle." Clara grabbed my wrist, her grip gentle but insistent. "Talk to me."
Before I could answer, Mrs. Crawford's voice cut through the laundry room chatter. "Janelle! Lord Aldric's chambers need attending. Third floor, east wing."
My blood ran cold. The east wing. The same place Adrian had warned me to avoid. I looked at Clara, who'd gone pale.
"I'll go with you," she said quickly.
"No." Mrs. Crawford's tone brooked no argument. "Clara, you're needed in the kitchens. Janelle can handle one room alone."
The walk to the east wing felt like a death march. Each footstep echoed hollowly in the stone corridors, and I swore I could hear another set of footsteps matching mine, always just out of sync enough that when I stopped to listen, they stopped too.
King Magnus' chambers were empty, thank the goddess. I worked quickly, changing the bedding and dusting surfaces with shaking hands. But as I bent to collect dirty linens from the floor, I heard it, a soft footstep in the corridor outside.
I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. The footstep came again, deliberate and measured, as if someone was pacing back and forth outside the door.
Adrian warned me, I thought desperately. He told me to stay away from here.
I crept toward the window, hoping to see if there was another way out, but the drop was three stories down onto unforgiving stone. Trapped. I was completely trapped.
The footsteps stopped. Silence stretched like a held breath, and then the door handle turned.
"Miss Janelle." Captain Thorne's voice was silk over steel as he stepped into the room. "How fortuitous to find you here."
My mouth went dry. The Captain was a mountain of a man, all hard muscle and cold eyes, with scars that spoke of battles I couldn't imagine. His presence filled the room like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.
"Captain," I managed, dropping into a curtsy that I hoped hid my trembling. "I was just finishing.."
"Were you?" He closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded like a coffin lid shutting. "How thorough of you. Tell me, do you often work alone in the east wing?"
The question felt like a trap. "Only when Mrs. Crawford assigns me, sir."
"Hmm." He moved closer, and I caught the scent of leather and steel and something darker, something that made my wolf recoil in instinctive fear. "And do you enjoy your work here at the palace?"
"Yes, sir." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Good. It would be... unfortunate if anything were to happen to disrupt your employment here." His pale eyes fixed on mine, and I saw something that made my blood freeze. Knowledge. He knew about the mate bond. Somehow, impossibly, he knew.
"I don't understand, sir."
"Don't you?" His smile was sharp enough to cut. "I think you understand more than you let on, Miss Janelle. Much more."
He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the cruel intelligence in his eyes, the promise of violence barely leashed. "Tell me about your family."
The change of subject was so abrupt it left me reeling. "My... my family, sir?"
"Your parents. Your pack. Where you came from before you arrived here as an orphaned servant girl." Each word was precise, calculated. "Surely you remember something about your life before the palace?"
My mind went blank. I remembered fragments, my mother's laughter, my father's strong hands, the scent of pine and woodsmoke. But everything else was shrouded in the haze of trauma and time.
"I was very young when they died, sir. I don't remember much."
"How convenient." He circled me like a predator stalking wounded prey. "No memories. No family name. No pack affiliations. Just a little lost wolf who appeared at our gates seeking charity."
The way he said 'wolf' made my skin crawl. He definitely knew what I was.
"I should return to my duties," I whispered.
"Yes, you should." He moved to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. "A word of advice, Miss Janelle. Some paths lead to destruction. For everyone involved. I'd hate to see such a... promising young woman make unfortunate choices."
The threat was clear as crystal. I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice. He left without another word, but his presence lingered like smoke in my lungs.
I finished the room in record time, my hands shaking so badly I nearly dropped the water basin twice. Every shadow seemed to hide watching eyes, every creak of the old castle made me jump. By the time I made it back to the servants' quarters, I was barely holding myself together.
++++++++ ( Omniscient POV )
Later that evening, in King Magnus's private study, Captain Thorne stood at attention before the imposing desk.
"Your Majesty," Thorne began, his voice carefully neutral. "The prince's behavior at the feast was... telling."
King Magnus looked up from the documents spread before him, his cold blue eyes sharp with interest. "Elaborate."
"He couldn't keep his eyes off the servant girl. Even while dancing with Princess Sophia, he was watching Janelle across the room. He stumbled during the waltz because of his distraction." Thorne paused. "Princess Sophia noticed."
The King's jaw tightened. "And the girl?"
"She's definitely feeling the bond's effects. I confronted her today in the east wing, and her reactions confirmed my suspicions. She knows what she is to the prince, even if she doesn't understand the full implications."
Magnus stood, moving to the window that overlooked the castle grounds. "This cannot continue. Adrian's weakness is becoming too visible."
"What are your orders, Your Majesty?"
The King was silent for a long moment, his hands clasped behind his back. "It's time for more direct action. Make sure she understands the consequences of continuing this... attachment."
"Understood, sir."
+++++++ ( Back to Janelle)
Clara took one look at my face and dragged me into an empty storage room.
"What happened?" she demanded. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Worse," I choked out. "Captain Thorne."
Her face went white. "Oh, Janelle. What did he want?"
"He was asking about my family. About where I came from." I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking. "Clara, he knows. Somehow he knows about..."
I couldn't say it aloud, even here. But Clara understood.
"About the bond," she whispered.
I nodded miserably. "And there's more. I keep feeling like I'm being watched. Like everywhere I go, someone's following me."
Clara was quiet for a long moment, her face troubled. "Janelle, I need to tell you something. Yesterday, three different servants asked me questions about you. What you do in your free time, where you go, who you talk to." She met my eyes, her expression grave. "Someone's definitely watching you."
The confirmation hit me like a physical blow. "Who? Why?"
"I don't know who. As for why..." She looked around nervously, then leaned closer. "I think it has to do with Prince Adrian. The way he defended you at the feast, the way he looked at you, people have noticed. Important people."
"I never asked for any of this," I whispered, tears burning my eyes. "I never wanted the mate bond. I never wanted to complicate his life or put myself in danger."
"I know." Clara squeezed my shoulder. "But wanting doesn't matter when it comes to mate bonds. They just are."
That night, I barely slept. Every sound in the servants' quarters made me bolt upright, heart pounding. Twice I got up to check that the door was locked, even though I knew it wouldn't matter if someone really wanted to get in.
When I finally dozed off near dawn, I dreamed of cold eyes and sharp smiles, of shadows with teeth and whispers that promised pain.
I woke to find a folded piece of parchment on my pillow.
My hands
shook as I unfolded it, and the blood drained from my face as I read the message written in stark black ink:
Stop or face the consequences.