HAZEL'S DESIRE

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting vibrant hues of orange and pink before the deep blue of twilight settled in, Hazel slipped away to the bath, leaving the room momentarily empty.

Seizing the chance, Emily quietly crept into their quarter, her heart racing with the thrill of the forbidden.

She had often seen Hazel jotting down notes in a book before tucking it in the mattress—a secret gesture that took place when they were fast asleep. Once, curiosity had compelled Emily to crack her eyes open just enough to catch a glimpse of the hidden place.

With precise intent, Emily lifted the mattress, her fingers gliding over the fabric until they landed on the distinct indentation—the exact spot where Hazel had hidden that book.

A wave of triumph washed over her as her hand connected with the rigid spine of the volume, and she extracted the book with a triumphant smile.

Just then, the soft sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, pulling Emily's attention toward the door. Quick as a flash, she thrust the book beneath her belongings and rearranged the bedding, erasing any sign of her invasion.

****

When I swung the door open, my mind focused on the forgotten sponge, my gaze fell upon Emily, who exuded a relaxed demeanor on her bed.

She had changed out of her clothing into a sleek, long-sleeved black top that hugged her curves just right, the low neckline daring enough to display her bosom.

"Are you going out?" I asked, curiosity lacing my voice. She was brushing her hair, applying lip tint with a careful hand, a stark contrast to her usual nighttime routine.

Everything about her looked intentional, as though she were preparing for a special encounter—perhaps with a man.

"Yes, the king invited me to his chamber," Emily declared with a bright smile, though it faltered, replaced by a shadow of concern for me.

Suddenly, she dashed over and enveloped me in an unexpected embrace, her warmth wrapping around me like a soft blanket. "I'm so sorry, Hazel. I shouldn't have mentioned the king. You two aren't mates anymore," she whispered, her tone tinged with remorse.

"Right?" she pressed, her eyes intensely searching mine, as if seeking reassurance.

I bit my lip, a tumult of emotions swirling within me. Hadn't he said he wanted me? Or had he suddenly turned his affections towards Emily?

The earlier conversation they'd had that afternoon remained a mystery to me, one she had chosen not to share, and I felt a pang of hurt. I had always confided in her, yet her silence now left me feeling isolated.

"I just came to get my sponge," I managed to say, forcing a smile onto my lips. "Don't forget to lock the door when you leave." She nodded, and I stepped into the room, my sharp eyes landing on my bed, slightly shifted from its usual arrangement.

A flicker of suspicion ignited within me, but I decided against pursuing it for now; keeping the peace with Emily was paramount. I worried that asking her about it might spark unnecessary conflict, especially with the necklace issue looming in the background. Who would frame me? I'd done nothing wrong, and it was just the two of us in this space.

I retrieved the sponge and pivoted on my heels to leave, throwing out one last comment. "Looks like your dream is coming true," I teased, my smile faltering as I caught sight of her blushing cheeks. I walked past her, heading toward the bath.

****

Emily slid the book into her bag, urgency tightening her movements. Locking the door behind her as instructed, she ventured toward the king's chamber, anticipation coursing through her veins. The door swung open to reveal Kian, who sat alone at a table set for one, enjoying his meal in solitude.

"Emily is here, Your Majesty," she announced, stepping inside, her gaze falling on him.

He extended his hand without uttering a word, and she obliged, moving closer to him. As she slipped the book into his palm, her fingers grazed against his—an intentional touch laden with significance.

Kian narrowed his gaze, annoyance flaring within him.

He then reached for a strawberry from the plate nearby.

Kian studied the book, turning it over in his hands and tracing the cover with his fingers. "You're quite skilled at acquiring things that don't belong to you," he chastised, his tone flat yet sharp.

Even though he had requested she fetch it, Kian didn't hide his contempt for her actions.

Emily's expression shifted, her brow furrowing, yet she held her tongue, acutely aware of the tempest of irritation radiating from him.

"Did you also engage with the necklace incident to frame your friend?" His eyebrows arched, his piercing gaze now fixed upon her, demanding answers.

Emily's eyes widened, her heart thumping violently in her chest. Panic surged through her as she dropped to her knees, voice trembling. "I don't know anything about that, Your Majesty," she stammered, each word laden with uncertainty that only intensified Kian's scrutiny.

"Yes, you do," he stated with unmistakable authority. "Hazel must have told you she's my mate, and your jealousy drove you to create chaos, hoping it would turn me against her."

"That turned out to be a misstep," Kian began, his tone cool and steady as he lounged on the couch, "and when I asked about her this afternoon, you responded with fabrications, hoping it would irritate me. You presented the diary, changing your dresses and fragrances as if that would somehow captivate my interest—am I right?" He laid bare her intentions, watching as her eyes widened in shock. How did he perceive everything so clearly?

"Y-yes, Your Majesty," she stammered finally, a deep flush of shame creeping across her cheeks.

Kian clicked his tongue in disapproval, a knowing glint in his gaze. "I'm not a mind reader, but I'm certainly perceptive enough to connect the dots. I can only assume you were once a confidante to her, yet here you are, betraying her trust. Not a particularly honorable move," he remarked, shaking his head ironically.

"Please show mercy, your majesty!" Emily clasped her hands together in desperation, her features twisted in anxiety. The fear of Hazel discovering her misdeeds loomed heavily over her.

"Request her forgiveness. And do not attempt to feed my mate any more of your deceitful tales. Out," he commanded, his voice icy and unyielding.

Tears of humiliation brimmed in Emily's eyes, but she quickly wiped them away, steeling herself as she pushed herself to her feet and hurried from the chamber, driven by his stern order.

Kian's gaze fell upon the diary, curiosity flickering within him. He debated whether to delve into its pages but eventually shrugged; it was right there, beckoning to him. With a decisive action, he opened the cover, revealing the first page filled with childlike sketches.

"This is me, my brother, Mama, and Papa," she had drawn stick figures, each line infused with affection. He lingered on the whimsical images, reading her descriptions of family warmth and love that radiated from her drawings.

Turning to the next page, "I got a job in the castle, hoping to earn more money and savor sweet foods." The corners of his lips lifted into an amused smirk at her aspirations.

As he continued, he stumbled upon another poignant entry: "Today I turned twenty, but no one is here to celebrate with me. Happy birthday to me." Beside her words, a doodle of a cake adorned with candles seemed to radiate her loneliness.

Then, his smile faded as he read on, "I finally found my mate, he rejected me." The impact of her sorrowful words struck him, an uncomfortable tightening in his chest betraying his feelings about the situation.

"I've always envisioned what my mate would look like—he embodies every quality I desire. Strong, tall, and undeniably handsome. His voice is deep, stirring feelings within me that I can't fully comprehend. If only we could be together..."

As he flipped through the pages, he encountered more confessions: "I've been plagued by sexual desires lately. My body craves experiences I can only dream of. I long to feel the warmth of a man's embrace—yearning to understand what ignites such passion, to scream his name in ecstasy." Kian raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by her candid expressions.

The subsequent pages were filled with bold, reckless words, topped with a vivid lipstick stain that hinted at her unabashed longing. His fingers trembled at the thought of flipping to the next entry, but as he reached the following page, he came across a striking warning.

"Do not open," she had written sternly, surrounded by bizarre sketches and eerie skeletons, a stark contrast to the earlier pages. A mixture of curiosity and restraint washed over him; he had uncovered enough about her innermost desires. She yearned not just for love, but for a profound, passionate connection. Pressing his lips together, he reluctantly closed the diary, tossing it to the table.

For no reason at all, his body was reacting mysteriously. It seemed like he wanted to help her fulfill those desires.