A peal of delighted, musical laughter escaped the Queen's lips. It echoed through the grand hall, full of genuine amusement at her son's prudish, flustered reaction.
"Oh, my dear, sensitive son! I am only teasing!" she giggled, waving a dismissive hand. "Honestly, you make it too easy!"
As the five maids curtsied and were led away by a steward, their reactions to the Queen's "joke" were a chaotic symphony of their own personalities.
Rina, walking at the end of the line, was beet-red, her face almost matching Aiden's. The idea of marrying a prince was so absurd, so far beyond her wildest dreams, that she could only stare at her shoes, her heart thumping a frantic, embarrassed rhythm.
Talia, marching ahead of her, was practically vibrating with rage. She shot a venomous glare over her shoulder at the Queen and then at Aiden. Brides? she thought, her hands clenched into fists. I am here to uncover a conspiracy, not to be paraded as a broodmare for this spoiled, sarcastic idiot! The very idea was an insult to her honor.
Lyra, walking with a serene, dreamy grace, had a small, blissful smile on her face. The Queen's words weren't a joke to her; they were a prophecy. Brides, she thought, her heart swelling with a warm, possessive joy. Of course. We will all be his brides. It is our destiny. She shot a look at Aiden that was so full of adoring certainty that it made him feel physically cold.
Eira, observing the entire exchange with a detached, academic air, found the whole thing fascinating. Note, she thought, her mind cataloging the data. The Queen utilizes social embarrassment as a tool for psychological manipulation. The Prince exhibits a classic physiological response to social pressure—facial flushing and stammering. The 'bride' concept triggers a wide spectrum of emotional reactions, from terror to possessive delusion. This experiment is more fruitful than anticipated.
And finally, Seraphine, gliding at the front of the group, allowed a single, elegant eyebrow to raise in amusement. She had seen royal courts play these games for centuries. The Queen was a master, and her son was a wonderfully, hilariously easy target. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips as she was led out of the hall. This was going to be far more entertaining than she had ever dared to hope.
Aiden was left standing alone in the middle of the grand hall, his face the color of a ripe tomato. He watched them go, each of their gazes burning into him: Rina's embarrassed pity, Talia's furious contempt, Lyra's obsessive adoration, Eira's clinical analysis, and Seraphine's ancient, knowing amusement.
His new life wasn't just beginning. It was being judged, analyzed, desired, and mocked by five incredibly different, and incredibly dangerous, women.
The grand hall emptied, leaving Aiden alone with his mortifyingly red face and the echoing laughter of his mother. The five new maids were led down a series of opulent hallways, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors. They were guided to a new wing of the castle, one with clean, bright corridors and rows of polished wooden doors. A senior steward, a man with a face as stern as his uniform, handed each of them a heavy, brass key.
"These are your chambers. You will find fresh uniforms in your wardrobes. Your duties begin at dawn. Do not be late." With that, he turned and marched away, leaving them in a stunned silence.
In her small, but surprisingly comfortable room, Rina knelt beside the simple bed. It was softer than anything she had ever slept on. She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and whispered a prayer to the only deity she knew.
"Oh, great Dragon in the sky, thank you. Thank you for hearing my prayer. I won. I can save Grandma now. I promise I'll work hard. A single, happy tear traced a path down her cheek. She was going to be a good maid.
In the room next door, Talia didn't pray. She tested the bed, bouncing on the mattress. It didn't sag or creak. It was sturdy. It was clean. It was safe. A rare, genuine smile touched her lips. For the first time in years, she wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open, listening for the sounds of royal soldiers or rival dragon riders. Here, in the heart of the enemy's castle, she could finally rest.
Across the hall, Lyra sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She wasn't thinking about the soft bed or the new uniform. She was remembering the feeling of Aiden's arm under her hand, the warmth of his skin when she had saved him from the poison. A soft, blissful smile spread across her face. She had touched him. She had protected him. She was one step closer to him. Forever.
In a slightly larger chamber, Eira knelt on the floor, a small, silver mirror floating in the air before her. The face of the ancient elf from the water bowl appeared again.
"Report," the elf commanded.
"The initial phase is a success, Elder," Eira stated, her voice calm and precise. "I have gained direct access to the Prince and the castle archives. The other four candidates are… unexpected variables, but they have proven useful. The Prince remains unaware of the prophecy, but his resistance is… intriguing. I will continue my observation."
The elf in the mirror nodded slowly. "Proceed, Moonveil. The fate of our people may rest on this." The image vanished.
And in the darkest corner of the hallway, Seraphine stood by her window, looking out at the moon. The room was fine, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand and touched her lips. She could still taste him. The memory of his blood, so close, so potent, was a tantalizing echo. It was different from any blood she had ever tasted—alive, sarcastic, and powerful. It was a taste that, she realized with a start, would not be easily forgotten. The thirst she had quenched was already returning, stronger and more specific than before.
And in his own chambers, Aiden paced back and forth. The bite on his neck was a dull throb. The memory of five pairs of eyes staring at him was a fresh nightmare. He stopped and looked at his reflection in a dark window. He saw a tired, frustrated young man.
He was no longer just a prince trying to avoid marriage.
He was a master. An employer. A protector. And a source of sustenance.
His life had just become infinitely more complicated.