I Saved A Dying Wolf In The Snow, But He Turned Out To Be The Alpha King
Part 2
I tended to his burning fever for three days and three nights.
Sitting beside his bed, I wiped his sweating brow with a cool cloth.
I learned the exact landscape of every scar on his chest.
I told him stories about my life in the castle to pass the time.
His breathing finally steadied on the fourth morning.
His striking gray eyes flickered open and locked onto mine.
He thanked me for saving him in a deep, rough voice.
His expression of pure wonder made my heart race.
I leaned down and pressed my lips against his mouth without thinking.
The impulsive kiss lasted only a second before panic seized my body.
I bolted out the wooden door into the crisp morning air.
My former headmaid stood waiting on the gravel path.
She was flanked by two armed castle guards.
She loudly accused me of trespassing on royal grounds.
Without letting me explain, she ordered the guards to drag me to the dungeons.
A massive hand suddenly pushed the cottage door open behind me.
The scarred man stepped out into the sun wearing borrowed clothes.
He commanded the guards to release me.
His voice carried the weight of absolute authority.
Both armored guards instantly dropped to their knees in the dirt.
They called the stranger the Alpha King and begged for forgiveness.
The man I had just kissed was the supreme ruler of our kingdom.
He commanded that I join his personal household immediately.
My cruel boss turned pale and bowed her head in defeat.
I packed my belongings into a bag and walked up the hill toward the castle.
How was I supposed to serve as a lowly maid to the powerful king I had just foolishly kissed?
Would he punish my audacity by throwing me in the freezing dungeons, or was the dark hunger in his gaze promising a much more dangerous fate?
Part 3
Standing in the grand hallway of the royal estate, Megan held her breath.
With white-knuckled fingers, she gripped the handle of a silver polishing tray.
Gold trimmed banners hung from the high vaulted ceilings.
Pouring through stained glass windows, bright sunlight painted the marble floors in vivid colors.
Dressed in a crisp black uniform, she constantly adjusted her starched white apron.
Her chest tightened every time heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Since the Alpha King brought her into his personal household, three agonizing weeks had passed.
Three weeks of constant anxiety and racing thoughts.
Despite her best efforts to avoid him, she saw Craig every single day.
Whether holding court in the main drawing room or reviewing battle maps, he was always present.
Instead of bandages, he now wore fine silk tunics and leather armor that stretched tight over his broad chest.
The brutal scars she had washed in the cottage were now hidden beneath royal garments.
But she remembered the heat of his skin under her palms.
She remembered the sharp intake of his breath when she touched his shoulder.
She remembered the softness of his lips against hers.
Now an entire kingdom stood between them.
He was the most powerful shifter in the realm.
She was a girl who scrubbed floors and polished silver.
Megan kept her head down whenever he walked past.
Bowing deeply, she simply stared at his polished boots.
Like a trapped bird, her heart hammered against her ribs.
She felt his intense gaze burning into the top of her head.
He never spoke a word to her in the public halls.
His silence felt heavier than any command.
Without warning, Heather nudged Megan with a sharp elbow.
Carrying a stack of fresh linen sheets, the shorter maid sighed.
Her brown eyes sparkled with mischievous amusement.
She nodded toward the open doors of the king’s study.
Craig stood by the massive oak desk with a roll of parchment in his hands.
His sharp jaw clenched as he read the report.
His golden hair caught the light from the roaring fireplace.
Lifting his heavy head, he looked straight through the open doorway.
His gray eyes locked instantly onto Megan.
A jolt of pure electricity shot down her spine.
Dropping her gaze instantly, she hurried past the wooden door.
Her breathing grew shallow and uneven.
Heather chuckled softly beside her.
The man watches you like a starving wolf, Heather whispered.
Shaking her head firmly, Megan quickened her pace.
You imagine things, Megan muttered.
He is simply making sure we do our jobs.
Heather snorted and shifted the heavy linens in her arms.
No king stares at a servant unless he wants her in his bed, Heather replied.
Heat flushed Megan’s cheeks from her jaw to her hairline.
Gripping the silver tray tightly, she felt her knuckles turn white.
Do not say such things, Megan hissed.
Someone will hear you and report us to the steward.
Heather rolled her eyes and turned down the servants’ corridor.
Pushing through the heavy wooden door, they entered the steamy laundry room.
Rolling through the thick air, white steam smelled of strong lye soap.
Standing over a boiling vat of water, Nguyen stirred the linens with a long wooden paddle.
Sweat beaded on her forehead and soaked the collar of her dress.
Wiping her sweating brow with the back of her wrist, she looked up.
Have you heard the rumors?
Nguyen asked.
Setting her tray on a wooden table, Megan let out a sigh.
Picking up a clean polishing cloth, she grabbed a tarnished silver goblet.
What rumors?
Megan asked.
Leaning heavily on her wooden paddle, Nguyen lowered her voice to a whisper.
The king will announce his engagement at the winter ball.
Megan’s hands stopped moving.
Slipping from her numb fingers, the silver goblet clattered loudly against the table.
Her stomach plummeted into an icy abyss.
Who is the bride?
Heather asked.
A noblewoman from the Northern Marches, Nguyen said.
She brings a massive dowry and a strategic alliance.
A sharp pain twisted inside Megan’s chest.
Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, she forced her hands to pick up the goblet.
She rubbed the cloth against the silver with aggressive force.
It makes sense, Megan said.
A king needs a proper queen to rule beside him.
Her voice sounded hollow and distant to her own ears.
Scrubbing the metal with aggressive force, she finally saw her miserable reflection.
Of course he would marry a noblewoman.
He needed alliances and wealth to rebuild his war-torn kingdom.
He did not need a maid who smelled of lye soap and floor wax.
The brief kiss in the cottage meant nothing to him.
It was just a fleeting moment of gratitude from a delirious man.
Megan bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper.
Clenching her jaw, she absolutely refused to cry in the middle of the laundry room.
A sharp knock on the wooden door made all three women jump.
Stepping into the steamy room, a young steward cleared his throat.
Dressed in the blue livery of the king’s personal staff, he looked very serious.
Megan, the steward said.
Sweeping his critical eyes over her damp apron, he frowned.
His Majesty requests your presence in his private chambers.
The paddle slipped from Nguyen’s hands and splashed into the vat.
Heather stared at Megan with wide eyes.
My presence?
Megan asked.
Her throat felt tight and dry.
The steward nodded and stepped aside.
Immediately, he added.
Frantically wiping her wet hands on her apron, Megan nodded.
Smoothing stray hairs behind her ears, she tried to look presentable.
Her knees shook with every step she took toward the door.
Following the steward silently, she navigated the maze of castle corridors.
Climbing a spiraling stone staircase, they finally reached the highest tower.
The air grew cooler and smelled of pine needles and woodsmoke.
Stopping in front of massive carved oak doors, the steward turned to her.
Knocking twice on the thick wood, he immediately stepped back.
Enter, a deep voice called from within.
The sound of his voice made the hairs on Megan’s arms stand up.
Pushing the heavy door open, she stepped into the private chamber.
Pulling the heavy door shut behind her, the steward left her entirely alone.
The click of the latch sounded like a thunderclap in the quiet room.
Standing by a massive stone fireplace, Craig stared into the roaring flames.
He had discarded his royal doublet and heavy armor.
Dressed only in a loose white linen shirt and dark trousers, he looked incredibly informal.
The top strings of his shirt hung open to reveal a triangle of bronze chest.
Firelight danced across the sculpted planes of his face.
His gray eyes tracked her every movement.
Megan stopped a few feet away and dropped into a low curtsy.
You sent for me, Your Majesty, she whispered.
Her gaze remained fixed on the intricate pattern of the woven rug.
She heard his soft footsteps crossing the room toward her.
The heat of his body radiated against her skin before he even stopped.
Stand up, Megan, he commanded gently.
Straightening her spine, she stubbornly kept her eyes lowered.
Reaching out slowly, he hooked a single finger under her chin.
Tilting her head up gently, he forced her to look directly at him.
His touch sent a shockwave of warmth straight to her toes.
Why do you hide from me?
Craig asked.
His voice sounded rough and low in the quiet chamber.
I do not hide, Your Majesty, Megan replied.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
I am performing my duties as assigned.
His thumb brushed lightly against her jawline.
You refuse to look at me in the halls, he said.
You run away whenever I enter a room.
She swallowed hard against the tight knot in her throat.
It is not proper for a servant to stare at the king, she whispered.
Dropping his hand, he took a slow half step closer.
Proper, he repeated.
The word sounded like a curse in his mouth.
You did not care about proper when you carried my bleeding body through a blizzard.
You did not care about proper when you washed my skin.
He leaned down until his face hovered mere inches from hers.
You did not care about proper when you kissed me, he murmured.
Megan’s chest heaved with shallow breaths.
Please, Your Majesty, she pleaded.
Do not mock me.
His gray eyes darkened with sudden intensity.
I am not mocking you, he stated.
Lifting both of his large hands, he gently framed her face.
His large palms felt warm and slightly rough from wielding a sword.
I think about that kiss every single day, he confessed.
I sit in council meetings and think about the taste of your mouth.
I stare at battle maps and remember the softness of your hands on my fevered skin.
Megan’s heart pounded so hard it physically hurt her ribs.
You are the king, she gasped.
You are getting married to a noblewoman from the North.
Craig frowned and his thumbs stopped moving against her cheeks.
Who told you that nonsense? he asked.
The entire castle is talking about your engagement at the winter ball, she said.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
I know my place in this world.
I know I am nothing but a maid.
His jaw clenched and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes.
You are the woman who saved my life, he declared fiercely.
You are the only person in this castle who looks at me as a man instead of a crown.
He slid his hands into her hair and tilted her head back.
Let me show you your place, he whispered.
His mouth crashed down onto hers.
There was no hesitation and no gentleness in his kiss.
It was a desperate collision of heat and hunger.
His tongue swept past her lips and tangled with hers.
A whimper escaped her throat.
Her hands flew up and gripped the soft linen of his shirt.
She meant to push him away but her fingers curled into the fabric and pulled him closer.
He groaned against her mouth and wrapped his arms around her waist.
He lifted her completely off the ground.
Her toes dangled in the air as he backed her into the heavy oak door.
The solid wood pressed against her spine.
His large body pinned her in place.
His lips left her mouth and trailed hot kisses down her jawline.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her scent.
Megan, he rasped against her skin.
A heavy warmth pooled deep in her lower belly.
She tangled her fingers in his thick golden hair.
She leaned her entire weight against his broad chest and let her eyelids flutter shut.
The cold stone walls of the castle faded entirely from her mind.
Then the hard metal of his royal signet ring pressed sharply into her bare shoulder.
Her spine stiffened instantly as she remembered the crown on his head.
He could have any woman in the realm.
This was just a momentary distraction for him.
If she surrendered to him now, it would destroy her completely when he inevitably married a proper queen.
Planting both hands firmly on his broad chest, she shoved as hard as she could.
Craig stumbled backward with a look of pure confusion.
Hitting the stone floor hard, Megan scrambled sideways like a frightened rabbit.
I cannot do this, she cried.
Her chest heaved and tears spilled down her cheeks.
Megan, wait, he said.
He reached a hand out toward her.
I am sorry, Your Majesty, she sobbed.
Grabbing the brass handle desperately, she yanked the heavy door open.
Darting out into the corridor, she fled before he could take another step.
Running blindly through the castle halls, Megan completely lost her sense of direction.
Her shoes slapped softly against the stone floors.
She turned down a narrow servants’ corridor and ducked into a dark alcove.
Pressing her back against the cold stone wall, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she tried desperately to muffle her jagged sobs.
Her lips still tingled from the bruising force of his kiss.
Her entire body trembled with adrenaline and heartbreak.
She needed to calm down before returning to the laundry room.
A scraping sound echoed from the adjacent storage room.
Freezing instantly in the shadows, Megan held her breath.
The heavy wooden door of the storage room stood slightly ajar.
A sliver of lantern light spilled onto the corridor floor.
Two muted voices drifted through the crack.
The first payment is due next week, a gruff male voice said.
Megan recognized the voice instantly.
It belonged to Greg, the chief supplier for the castle kitchens.
The treasury ledger already shows the funds disbursed, a woman replied.
Megan’s blood ran cold.
It was Brenda, the headmaid.
You charge the crown for premium wheat and beef, Brenda continued.
You deliver rotting grain and sickly livestock to the kitchens.
We split the leftover gold between us.
Greg chuckled a low and ugly sound.
The king is too busy playing general to check the pantry, Greg said.
He trusts his staff completely.
That makes him a fool, Brenda sneered.
By the time winter is over, we will have enough gold to buy an estate in the Southern Isles.
Make sure the new cook does not ask questions, Greg warned.
I will handle the cook, Brenda replied sharply.
No one questions the headmaid.
If anyone gets suspicious, I will simply fire them for incompetence.
Pressing her hand even harder over her mouth, Megan closed her eyes.
Her eyes widened in absolute horror.
Brenda and Greg were systematically robbing the royal treasury.
They were starving the returning soldiers to line their own pockets.
The scrape of a chair leg told Megan they were moving.
Slipping silently out of the alcove, she hurried down the dark corridor.
Her bare hands shook as she navigated the servant passages.
She needed to tell Craig about this immediately.
But she had no proof.
It was the word of a lowly maid against the powerful headmaid and the chief supplier.
Brenda would simply call her a liar and throw her in the dungeon.
Megan realized she needed evidence.
She needed the altered ledgers and the forged receipts.
Wiping her tears away quickly, she set her jaw with fresh determination.
She was going to expose them.
Moving like a ghost through the castle, Megan spent the next three days observing.
She avoided the main corridors and stuck to the shadowy servant passages.
Keeping her eyes lowered, she held her tongue around the other maids.
Whenever Brenda walked into a room, Megan immediately found a reason to leave.
From the upper windows, she watched the heavy supply wagons arrive in the main courtyard every morning.
Taking careful mental notes, she observed the suspiciously thin sacks of flour.
She watched Greg hand sealed envelopes to Tyler near the garden gate.
Tyler was Brenda’s favorite and most trusted maid.
The sneering girl always tucked the envelopes straight into her apron pocket.
Megan realized Tyler was acting as the courier for the stolen gold.
Late at night, when the rest of the castle slept, Megan crept into Brenda’s private office.
The small room smelled of stale lavender water and burning wax.
Megan pulled a small iron hairpin from her pocket.
She slipped the pin into the lock of Brenda’s mahogany desk drawer.
Wiggling the metal pin patiently, she finally heard a satisfying click echo in the quiet room.
Pulling the heavy drawer open, she retrieved a thick leather-bound book.
It was the true ledger of the castle supplies.
Megan pulled a stub of charcoal and a folded piece of parchment from her pocket.
Working by faint candlelight, she painstakingly copied the dates and the fake prices.
Her hand cramped as she transcribed row after row of stolen wealth.
Folding the parchment into a tight square, she shoved it deep into her leather boot.
Placing the ledger back exactly as she found it, she carefully locked the drawer.
The next afternoon, Kneeling in the damp dirt of the kitchen gardens, Megan wiped her brow.
Using a small iron trowel, she dug up fresh carrots for the evening stew.
The afternoon sun beat down heavily on her neck and shoulders.
She wiped a streak of dirt from her forehead with the back of her wrist.
A shadow suddenly fell over her small patch of dirt.
Looking up suddenly, Megan nearly dropped her dirty trowel.
Craig stood over her with his hands clasped behind his back.
Dressed in a simple leather riding jacket and dark trousers, he looked exhausted.
The bright sunlight caught the golden strands of his hair.
His gray eyes looked exhausted and lined with dark shadows.
Scrambling immediately to her feet, Megan dropped into a low curtsy.
Your Majesty, she breathed.
Her heart instantly started hammering against her ribs.
You are very difficult to find, he said quietly.
I have been performing my duties, she replied.
She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the muddy toes of his boots.
Craig let out a long, heavy sigh.
Walk with me, Megan, he commanded gently.
Hesitating for a fraction of a second, she finally fell into step beside him.
They walked in silence down the gravel path between the tall rose bushes.
The sweet scent of blooming flowers hung heavy in the warm air.
I owe you a sincere apology, Craig finally said.
Stumbling slightly on the loose gravel, Megan caught her balance.
Looking up at him in pure shock, she widened her eyes.
You owe me nothing, Your Majesty, she whispered.
I owe you everything, he corrected sharply.
He stopped walking and turned to face her fully.
His intense gaze made her want to run away and step closer at the same time.
My behavior in my chambers was completely inappropriate, he said.
His jaw flexed tightly as he spoke the words.
I took advantage of my position and your vulnerability.
A sharp pang of disappointment twisted inside Megan’s chest.
He was regretting the kiss.
He was pushing her away just as she had feared.
You do not need to explain, she said softly.
I know my place in this castle.
I know you are the king and I am a servant.
Stepping significantly closer, Craig reached out as if to touch her face.
Stopping his hand in midair, he slowly lowered it to his side.
You misunderstand me, he murmured.
His gray eyes searched her face with desperate intensity.
I do not regret kissing you.
I regret frightening you away.
Megan’s breath caught painfully in her throat.
You saved my life in that blizzard, he continued.
You did not know I was the king.
You saw a bleeding, broken creature and you showed me mercy.
You are the most courageous woman I have ever met.
His words washed over her like warm sunlight.
The winter ball is tomorrow night, he said abruptly.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a small folded parchment with a wax seal.
He held it out to her.
I want you to attend the ball as my personal guest.
Megan stared at the royal seal with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Your Majesty, servants do not attend the royal ball, she gasped.
You will attend as my guest, he repeated firmly.
He reached out and gently pressed the invitation into her dirty hand.
Please say you will come.
His voice sounded incredibly vulnerable.
Megan looked up into his striking gray eyes.
Yes, she whispered.
A brilliant smile transformed his entire face.
He looked younger and happier than she had ever seen him.
He bowed his head slightly and walked away down the garden path.
Megan stood frozen among the roses with the invitation clutched to her chest.
That evening, Megan walked into her small shared bedroom.
A massive white box sat squarely in the middle of her narrow cot.
Heather and Nguyen stood nearby with their hands clamped over their mouths.
Open it, Heather squeaked excitedly.
Untying the silk ribbon with trembling fingers, Megan held her breath.
Lifting the white lid, she gasped out loud at the contents.
A magnificent ivory silk gown lay folded inside the box.
Hundreds of tiny diamonds were sewn into the bodice like glittering stars.
A matching white half-mask rested on top of the silk.
A small note written in sharp masculine handwriting sat beside the mask.
For tomorrow night.
Craig.
Lifting the incredibly soft silk against her cheek, Megan closed her eyes in wonder.
For one night, she could pretend to be a lady.
For one night, she could dance with the man she loved.
A loud crash shattered the quiet moment.
The heavy wooden door flew open and slammed against the stone wall.
Marching into the room with a look of pure venom, Brenda pointed a finger.
Tyler followed close behind with a smug, twisted smile.
Two large castle guards pushed past them into the cramped room.
Search the room, Brenda barked.
What is the meaning of this?
Megan demanded.
She dropped the gown back into the box and stepped in front of it.
A valuable gold necklace has gone missing from the royal treasury, Brenda sneered.
Tyler pointed a long, bony finger directly at Megan.
I saw her sneaking around the treasury doors last night, Tyler lied loudly.
Megan’s stomach plummeted into her boots.
Brenda had figured out she was investigating the stolen supplies.
This was a trap to get rid of her forever.
Shoving Megan roughly aside, one of the massive guards stepped forward.
Dropping to his knees, he flipped Megan’s thin mattress completely over.
A heavy gold and emerald necklace hit the stone floor with a loud clatter.
Scooping the jewelry off the floor, the guard held it toward Brenda.
Found it, the guard grunted.
Shaking her head frantically, Megan backed away from the guards.
That is not mine! she yelled.
She planted it there!
Save your lies for the magistrate, Brenda spat.
The penalty for stealing from the crown is twenty years in the dark cells.
Guards, arrest this thief immediately.
The two massive guards lunged forward and grabbed Megan by the arms.
They yanked her hands behind her back and clamped cold iron shackles around her wrists.
No!
Megan screamed.
Heather and Nguyen rushed forward to help her.
Tyler shoved Heather hard against the wall.
Stay back unless you want to hang for treason as well, Tyler threatened.
Dragging Megan out of the room, the guards ignored her screams.
Her feet scraped helplessly across the rough stone floor.
Brenda walked beside her with a triumphant smirk.
You thought you could outsmart me, Brenda whispered in Megan’s ear.
You are nothing but a filthy little rat.
Enjoy rotting in the dark.
The dungeon cell smelled of mold and human despair.
Freezing water dripped steadily from the cracked stone ceiling.
Sitting on the damp floor, Megan pulled her knees tightly to her chest.
The heavy iron shackles rubbed her wrists raw with every movement.
In the absolute darkness of the cell, she had lost all track of time.
Faint strains of classical music drifted down through the air vents.
The winter ball had already begun in the grand hall above.
Craig was up there waiting for her in the sparkling ballroom.
He would think she had taken the dress and fled into the night.
He would think she was exactly the cowardly thief Brenda painted her to be.
Tears tracked silently through the grime on her cheeks.
She had the proof of Brenda’s treason hidden safely in her boot.
But it did her absolutely no good while locked inside a cage.
A sudden metallic scrape echoed from the end of the dark corridor.
Lifting her heavy head, Megan strained her eyes against the suffocating gloom.
Quiet footsteps hurried toward her cell door.
A tiny sliver of candlelight illuminated the heavy iron bars.
Heather and Nguyen pressed their faces against the cold metal grille.
Megan, Heather whispered frantically.
Are you hurt?
Scrambling quickly to her aching feet, Megan rushed to the cold iron bars.
What are you doing here?
Megan hissed.
If the guards catch you, they will kill you.
Nguyen pulled a long, thin iron hook from her apron pocket.
My brother is a locksmith, Nguyen said with a grim smile.
He taught me a few useful tricks.
Shoving the metal hook into the rusted keyhole, Nguyen twisted it hard.
The heavy iron mechanism clicked and popped open.
Pulling the heavy cell door wide open, Heather grabbed her friend’s arm.
Stumbling out into the damp corridor, Megan hugged both of her friends fiercely.
You need to run away from the castle right now, Heather urged.
Brenda is planning something horrific tonight.
Megan frowned and wiped her eyes with the back of her dirty hand.
What do you mean?
Megan asked.
Tyler stole your ivory gown from the bedroom, Nguyen explained rapidly.
She is putting on the dress and the mask right now.
Brenda gave Tyler a small glass vial filled with deadly nightshade.
They are going to the ball to poison the king.
Megan’s heart stopped dead in her chest.
A rush of pure adrenaline flooded her veins.
If Tyler wore the mask and the dress, Craig would think she was Megan.
He would let her get close enough to slip the poison into his wine goblet.
Brenda wanted to eliminate the king before he discovered the empty treasury.
And she was using Megan’s identity to commit the ultimate treason.
I have to stop them, Megan declared firmly.
Hiking up the hem of her plain brown servant dress, she prepared to run.
Sprinting toward the spiraling stone stairs, she ignored the burning in her lungs.
Her worn leather shoes pounded violently against the stone steps.
Her lungs burned as she climbed higher and higher toward the music.
Bursting through the heavy wooden doors, she finally reached the servant entrance.
The grand ballroom exploded into view in a blinding array of colors.
Thousands of candles flickered in massive crystal chandeliers.
Nobles twirled across the polished marble floor in bright silk gowns.
Hugging the shadowed edges of the enormous room, Megan avoided the dancing nobles.
Scanning the sea of moving bodies, she searched frantically for the king.
Craig stood on a raised dais at the far end of the hall.
Dressed in a magnificent black velvet suit laced with silver thread, he stood tall.
A silver crown rested upon his golden hair.
He looked impossibly handsome and completely heartbroken.
He kept scanning the entrance doors with a tight, disappointed expression.
A sudden collective gasp rippled through the dancing crowd.
The orchestra abruptly stopped playing their cheerful tune.
Megan turned her head and looked toward the grand staircase.
Tyler slowly descended the sweeping marble steps.
She wore the glittering ivory gown and the white half-mask.
The diamonds caught the candlelight and threw rainbows across the walls.
She moved with elegant, practiced grace toward the dais.
Craig stepped forward and his entire face transformed with pure joy.
He smiled so brightly it made Megan’s chest physically ache.
He truly thought the woman in the dress was her.
Stepping down from the raised dais, he held out his hand to Tyler.
Curtsying incredibly low, Tyler placed her hand confidently inside his palm.
A servant walked past carrying a silver tray with two crystal wine goblets.
Reaching out casually, Tyler swiped her hand over the nearest goblet.
Through the flickering candlelight, Megan saw the glint of the small glass vial.
Lifting the poisoned goblet with a smile, Tyler offered it directly to the king.
Reaching for the tainted glass, Craig gave her a loving smile.
No!
Megan screamed at the top of her lungs.
Lunging violently forward, she shoved her way through the crowded nobles.
Do not drink that!
Megan shrieked.
Sprinting across the polished floor, she crashed bodily into Tyler.
The crystal goblet flew from Tyler’s hand and shattered against the marble floor.
The dark red wine sizzled and hissed as it ate into the stone.
The entire ballroom erupted into absolute chaos.
Shrieking in anger, Tyler shoved Megan roughly backward onto the hard floor.
Guards!
Craig roared above the panic.
Four massive guards swarmed the dais with drawn swords.
Pushing aggressively through the confused crowd, Brenda wore an expression of pure fury.
Arrest that filthy servant!
Brenda screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Megan.
She escaped the dungeon to murder our king!
Scrambling back to her feet, Megan pointed an accusing finger directly at Tyler.
Take off her mask!
Megan yelled.
Grabbing Tyler firmly by the shoulder, Craig ripped the white silk mask from her face.
Screaming in sudden panic, Tyler tried desperately to cover her face with her hands.
Craig stared at Tyler’s face with absolute horror and burning rage.
You are not Megan, Craig growled.
His gray eyes snapped toward the girl in the plain brown dress.
He looked at Megan’s bruised wrists and dirty face.
What is the meaning of this?
Craig demanded.
His voice thundered across the silent ballroom like a physical blow.
Madame Brenda framed me for theft, Megan said loudly.
Reaching deep into her leather boot, she pulled out the folded piece of parchment.
For several months, she has been working with Greg to steal gold from the royal treasury.
I copied the true ledger notes from her private office desk.
Megan held the parchment out to the nearest guard.
The guard took the paper and handed it directly to the king.
Unfolding the wrinkled parchment, Craig scanned the meticulous handwritten notes.
His jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped beneath his skin.
This is a forgery!
Brenda screamed hysterically.
She is a liar and a thief!
Search her, Craig commanded the guards.
Stepping forward immediately, a massive guard grabbed Tyler by the arm.
Reaching into her silk bodice, he pulled out the empty glass vial.
It smells strongly of nightshade, Your Majesty, the guard reported.
Turning swiftly on her heel, Brenda tried to run toward the exit doors.
Seize them both, Craig ordered coldly.
Tackling Brenda violently to the floor, two guards dragged her back by her arms.
They clamped heavy iron shackles around Brenda and Tyler’s wrists.
Take them to the deepest cells, Craig commanded.
They will hang for high treason at dawn.
The guards hauled the screaming women out of the grand ballroom.
A heavy, stunned silence fell over the gathered nobility.
Stepping down from the dais once again, Craig walked slowly toward Megan.
He ignored the hundreds of staring eyes.
Stopping right in front of her dirty dress, he dropped to one single knee.
The entire ballroom collectively gasped in pure shock.
Your Majesty, what are you doing?
Megan breathed.
Reaching out in absolute panic, she tried to pull him up by his shoulders.
You must stand up.
I am kneeling before the woman who saved my life twice, Craig said loudly.
Taking her dirty and bruised hand, he pressed it gently to his lips.
You are brave and selfless and perfectly pure of heart.
He looked up into her eyes with raw, unfiltered love.
I do not care about proper, he whispered softly.
I only care about you.
Tears spilled down Megan’s cheeks and dripped onto her dress.
Marry me, Megan, he pleaded.
Be my queen and my equal in all things.
Megan let out a wet, joyful laugh.
Yes, she sobbed happily.
Standing up to his full height, Craig wrapped his strong arms around her waist.
He pulled her flush against his chest and kissed her deeply.
The entire ballroom erupted into deafening cheers and thunderous applause.
Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, Megan kissed him back with all her heart.
She knew she would never scrub another floor for the rest of her life.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
