Lycans, it seemed regardless of their status, were as solid as the ground they stood on.
The servant she had stumbled into barely moved as she stumbled back with her arms flailing everywhere but the wall for support.
Mica righted herself instantly then ducked her head to avoid those intense eyes that watched in a savage manner.
"Excuse me." She murmured while side-stepping and rushing in a random direction, glancing over her shoulder only when the distance felt safe enough.
There was no one behind her.
Exhaling in relief, she touched her nape where the cold breath has caressed, and rubbed the spot while meandering towards the next room.
Mica spent the whole day moving from room to room swapping out the sheets for clean ones until her fingers ached from tucking the corners and her biceps strained from the weight of carrying large comforters.
"... how many rooms does this kingdom have…" she muttered in dismay while eyeing the hallways that spanned meters long with doors on either side.
Passing by ceiling high windows, she paused and glanced beyond the glass at the courtyard below where guards patrolled about in pristine uniform. Besides them were wolves paired to each guard, of different colors and shapes.
She had never seen so many creatures in one place. Briefly her thoughts wandered back to the human kingdom, and in the revelation of how many beasts surrounded them… she wondered just how easily or fortunate humans were to have made it thus far.
If the wolves decided to kill them one day, it would be with ease.
Night fell in the blink of an eye– a darkness that blanketed the earth in the color of an elderberry.
Mica was moving sluggishly at this point, her whole body protesting from the weight of labor and her stomach, which had been growling from the lack of a meal, had grown quiet in dim acceptance.
She blinked slow and heavy while leaning against the wall, now changed into the dinner tunic and the gold band fitted around her bicep. The tiredness weighed on her head which hung low.
For some reason, she was able to sleep upright.
"Servant girl."
Mica startled upright just as the golden jug was pressed into her arms, filled with dark wine for the King. She began to talk to the servant but he had already pivoted and walked away.
Mica sighed and straightened herself.
The ground was cold beneath her bare toes and she was extremely tired, unable to rid the vision of her bed waiting in the servant's quarters.
The dining hall was less crowded than before. Something she was grateful for.
Immediately her eyes sought the head of the table where the King's throne was.
Empty.
Neither was the queen present.
Her shoulders dropped slightly as she positioned herself behind his iron throne, shifting just slightly into the obscuring shadows.
A few guests slid into the room and took their positions, low murmurs renting the air as servants floated back and forth with plates.
Mica watched it all from her position, fighting off the snares of sleep which weighed her lids. She clenched her teeth to prevent a yawn and shook her curls.
"... stay awake… stay awake…" she muttered as her head drooped to the side only to snap up again. She hugged the jug to her chest.
The darkness was warm. The shadows are safe.
"... just… just five seconds…" succumbing to the lull of her heartbeat, Mica softened against the wall.
And then the doors opened.
The scraping back of chairs as guests arose snapped her awake.
The King entered. She did not notice the queen who walked a few steps behind him, shielded by the breadth of his shoulders. He wore a simple embroidered cloak like gossamer the color of pure white.
He moved sure footed and silent as a cat, eyes forward. When he passed her she swore his face tilted slightly in her direction, as if seeing her with such clarity.The queen sat beside him and dinner was served.
Mica waited a beat before quietly stepping forward and lifting the jug to pour into his cup. She was careful to keep a distance from him but his presence seemed everywhere.
The protocol was simple. Pour. Sip. Hand it over.
The wine was much sweeter and decadent on her tongue, surprisingly so. She paused, savoring the taste before lowering the delicate stem to his hand and watched as he drank from it.
This time he didn't drink from where she had.
The night passed on slowly. Quietly.
She wrestled with sleep and decidedly focused on the back of his head until he gestured for her to fill his cup again. Just as she leaned forward to pour, the yawn swelled in her throat and out before she could muffle it.
The king heard– and felt it– for his face tilted in her direction, one brow arched in amusement.
… tired, are we…
Mica's eyes flickered to the queen who was busy cutting through venison delicately.
Her lips parted to speak but then she heard his voice, smoothly disrupting her.
… inward…
Her brows furrowed. She considered the statement then felt something warm tap her chest, a finger directing her voice inwards.
Oh.
I woke early.
… and have you eaten, my little lamb…
Mica began to answer when, like clockwork, her stomach grumbled. A flush rose to her cheeks as she edged back into the shadows.
Not yet
She watched his long fingers reach for the knife and fork, smoothly cutting into a veal roast that split like butter and dripped fat.
That looks good.
The thought came unbidden to her, like her mind had a voice of its own and spoke so audibly his hand stilled mid-slicing.
Her eyes widened.
I didn't mean it like–
But his voice was a block to her own as it interrupted.
… remain behind after the dinner…