Chapter 7 The Threat Behind Her.
Ophelia's POV
I stumbled back, my leg hitting the chair, before I could fall down a hand caught me holding my waist, we both fell on the bed together.
His chest touched mine. The air tensed. I froze, forgetting how to breathe.
His hand touched my wrist, he didn't let go, he stared into my eyes.
I quickly look away pushing his chest, but it is frame.
“I can't breathe.” I snapped.
“Oh,” he replied and moved away from me slowly, he sat on the bed.
“I know that rogue is here for you, and you know why he is here,” he said, my chest tightened, and my gaze fell. I stared at my hand, as my eyes slowly lost their color.
“They tried to kill me after the celebration.” I lied, my eyes flicked, his gaze rested on me. I bit my lip. Did he notice?
He is cold expressless, I can't read him, what's going through his head.
I hold my breath.
“Come with me,” he said before dragging me out without another word.
We walked for a while before he stopped. “From now on you will work in the kitchen with the rest of the slaves.” He ordered.
I nodded. Is this a test? Why is he acting differently from before? I just hope he hasn't caught on.
Without another word he walked away, I stared at his cold back. He knows something but
decided to hide it, what can it be.
“You,” someone tapped my shoulder, making me turn back.
I flinched when I saw her, a tall woman around my age, maybe older, her eyes sharp like she wanted to peel my skin off. Her expression screamed pure annoyance.
She scoffed. “Follow me. You’re late. The kitchen doesn’t run itself because some girl the king fancies wants to stand around like a statue.”
I swallowed hard. Fancy? The king doesn’t fancy me. He barely even trusts me.
But I didn’t say anything. I just followed behind her as she marched down the hallway.
The deeper we went, the louder everything became, the clatter of trays, shouting cooks, pots slamming. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, everyone paused. Every eye landed on me, their stares sharp, cold, questioning.
Whispers traveled faster than fire.
“Is that her?”
“The girl from the banquet…”
“She's in trouble.”
“The king protected her…”
My throat tightened. Not again. I left Moon Pack to escape these stares, these whispers, this feeling of being unwanted everywhere I went… yet it followed me here like a shadow that refused to let go.
The woman from before shoved a pile of plates toward me. “Start with this. And don’t break anything, unless you want the king to throw you out.”
I nodded silently. My hands trembled, not from fear but from exhaustion, emotional exhaustion that weighed heavier than my body could carry.
I began washing the plates, trying to stay invisible. But with the way they glared at me, that was impossible.
A maid walked past me and purposely bumped into me, making the hot water splash over my dress, and a small split on my wrist.
I quickly hold my wrist feeling the sharp pain.
“Oh, sorry,” she said with a smile that wasn’t a smile.
My jaw clenched. I said nothing.
The pain was gone, the redness I opened my eyes looked around. No one spotted me except an old woman. I quickly hid my wrist before someone else could notice.
Another one muttered as she passed, “Girls like you disappear quickly in this palace.”
My grip tightened on the plate. I forced myself to breathe. Not here, not now. I already have enough problems.
But it is strange, why don't I feel any pain just like the attack from the rouges.
What am I?
As I continued working, the older woman from earlier, wrinkles lining her face, her eyes softer than the rest, walked past me slowly. She didn’t speak, but she kept looking at me as if she was studying me, searching for something.
I quickly glanced away, I just wanted silence and peace, I wanted to escape this painful life.
But peace doesn’t exist for people like me.
The woman approached me, her hand touching my wrist. She whispered.
“Be careful child. The king keeps you close for a reason.” She patted on the back of my hand gently.
“Someone stronger than the rogue is after you ... .I can feel the energy,” with which she walked away.
I stared at the woman, what does he mean, what motive can king Logan have. And is stronger.
Eve?
Dominic?
Or king Logan.
I frowned. What can it be? This woman is too strange.
The kitchen door burst open, making everyone freeze. Beta Hendrick walked in, expression stiff, eyes hard.
Everyone dropped and bowed immediately.
“His Majesty,” he called out, his voice echoing through the kitchen, “requests Ophelia. Now.”
A heavy silence fell.
All the maids’ heads snapped toward me. Their eyes widened — in shock, jealousy… hatred.
The same hatred I saw back home.
I swallowed, wiped my wet hands on my dress, and walked toward him.
He didn’t speak to me. Didn’t look at me. Didn’t touch me.
Just turned and led the way, his steps sharp.
I followed quietly, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My chest tightened with every step, and something inside me tugged painfully, a strange pull I didn’t understand. A pull that dragged me closer… closer… until we reached a tall door carved with dark symbols.
The king’s private office.
The man knocked once.
A cold, low voice answered from inside.
“Bring her in.”
The door opened.
Logan stood in front of the window, his back straight, shoulders tense, as if he was holding the whole palace up by himself. His aura filled the room, heavy, suffocating, powerful.
He turned slowly when he heard me enter.
His eyes, gods, his eyes locked onto mine, unreadable but sharp, too sharp.
For a moment, I felt naked under his gaze.
He dismissed Beta Hendrick with one gesture.
The door closed.
We were alone.
“Ophelia,” he said quietly, but his voice carried something fierce, something dangerous underneath. “Come here.”
I forced my feet to move, even though every step made my stomach twist.
When I stood in front of him, he studied my face as if he was searching for something hidden beneath my skin.
The tension in the room grew thick.
Then he spoke again, voice low:
“Are you really who you claim to be?”
I froze. What now, did he notice anything again.