"You have a knack for feeding me." She murmured around a mouthful of food, eyes downcast on the platter which was reducing at a rapid rate since she sat down without much fuss.
Of course there were hesitations in the invitation that came without much notice. But hunger had a demanding voice and her body submitted to it.
"It seems you never eat."
Mica paused mid-chew, and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. Images of the previous night's intruder came to the forefront. She had been too lost in thought and panic to attend breakfast on time, as for the previous nights… Well, she prioritized sleep after a long day of chores.
"... been tired of late."
"For a laborer in a pig sty, your tenacity is quite low when it comes to domestic chores."
A flush stained her cheeks.
She raised the fork pointedly at him then quickly lowered it onto the plate before realizing he could not see her.
She raised it again. "I happen to be living amongst wolves and lycanthropes who hate my very existence and the fear of dying daily has taken my appetite."
The potato cut under the vicious sweep of her knife. Her words were muffled around the starch, "Besides, it's not easy sleeping when people keep trying to enter your bedroom."
The King became an embodiment of stillness.
It took her another mouthful to realize his hand had stilled its drumming on the table, and his face was now set on hers. Eyes direct and piercing so much so that she shifted nervously under his gaze, reminding herself that he couldn't see her.
… who has been outside your door…
His lips did not move yet his voice was audible within her. Sudden and deep enough to raise the hairs on her nape.
Mica's chewing stalled, the food turned to mush in her mouth. His reaction made her pause and wonder if she said something wrong.
She shrugged and attempted at levity, "No one really… could be a servant searching for the bathroom– I'm guessing they couldn't hold it in any longer by the way they kept turning my doorknob."
Her laughter, when it resounded, was weak and shaky.
She sipped on water to cover up the sound.
For a dull moment, when he made no move or sound, she wondered if he had moved past the subject. Something fleeting. And her shoulders began to relax as she reached for the warm bread roll—
When something hot and sharp pierced her right eye from within.
"Ow–!" Her voice was cut short by something… a growl low and deep from within.
… show me…
Mica cupped her eye, blinking hard at the King who sat stoic as a statue before her. He looked like marble then, something far from living with the moonlight against his otherwise still face. "What are you doing?"
… open your eyes, little lamb…
The voice had changed.
The humane touch in it had shifted to something animalistic and guttural. The air suddenly shifted between them, something akin to the same movement she had witnessed in the Queen's chamber.
Yet this time it was not long nor serpentine but ragged, wide and curved. Pointed ears. Large enough to loom over both their heads but the light went through it. A mirage that blurred and echoed between.
Mica reeled back in terror, hands flailing on either side as the mirage broke apart and she saw something flash before her.
The image is swifter than a fleeting shadow.
One moment she was staring at the King and the next— a black shadow crossed before her with large yellow eyes and a ravenous mouth cut so wide and deep she saw rows upon rows of canines as it smiled at her.
A lycanthrope.
The same she had seen at her sacrifice.
The pain in her eye intensified as its voice lulled against the pressure.
… show me…
"Show you what?" She cried, blinking hard but it seemed her whole vision had been narrowed down to the creature before her and the space around had turned a pitch black. "You're hurting me!"
The pain dulled, a brief respite, and the King's voice spoke through the fog in a gentle manner contrasting to the lycanthrope.
… Mica… show me what you saw…
She felt it then, as if a hand had reached through her memory and began to assort through it. Touching at stuff not privy to it. Uncovering and covering. One memory was persistently being brought to the surface for Him to see.
The door. The light beneath it. The doorknobs twisting and turning.
Fear. The memory of it rushing through her body as sweat broke out in her armpits, her trembling hands.
Suddenly the lycanthrope was not before her but behind, its large head gently sweeping over her shoulder, nosing her temple with its wet snout. Its fur was rough against her skin and she dared not move as it lowered its head to her own, watching the memory play and replay.
A pleased growl reverberated through it.
The pulse in her right eye increased by intensity but she dared not move for fear of the beast doing something. Her body was shaking as a result, slight tremors that made it seem like a chill had cut through the darkness.
Its muzzle moved, … I see …
And then everything went white.