You’re not afraid of me
For the next few days, Lylie found herself at the center of palace gossip.
Servants whispered about her in the hallways. Guards eyed her with a mix of admiration and sheer horror. Even the queen mother had given her a look—one that was equal parts confusion and disbelief—when she heard what had happened.
Nobody ever spoke to the king like that.
Yet here she was. Alive. Unpunished.
And, strangely enough, not fired.
“I think he’s plotting your demise,” Ayanna whispered dramatically as they walked through the royal gardens.
Lylie snorted. “Oh, please. If he wanted me gone, I’d already be gone.”
Ayanna frowned. “That’s what concerns me. He hasn’t done anything. No orders, no punishment, no—”
“No reaction,” Lylie finished, tapping her chin. “Interesting.”
Ayanna groaned. “Lylie, this isn’t a game! My brother is—”
“Cold. Stoic. Intimidating. Yes, yes, I know.” Lylie waved a dismissive hand. “But maybe he’s just never met someone like me before.”
Ayanna shot her a deadpan look. “No one has ever met someone like you before.”
Lylie grinned. “Exactly.”
Just then, a servant hurried toward them, looking flustered. “Princess Ayanna, the queen mother requests your presence.”
Ayanna sighed. “Ugh. Probably another lecture about marriage.”
The servant hesitated. “And… Lady Lylie?”
Lylie perked up. “Yes?”
“The king has summoned you.”
Silence.
Ayanna paled. “Oh no.”
Lylie blinked. “Oh yes.”
The servant fidgeted. “He… uh, didn’t say why.”
Ayanna grabbed Lylie’s hands. “Okay. Okay. It was nice knowing you. You were the best friend I’ve ever had and the least boring person I know. Tell the gods I said hi.”
Lylie rolled her eyes. “Relax, Princess. I’ll be fine.”
Ayanna still looked worried. “Just… try not to die, okay?”
“No promises.”
And with that, Lylie followed the servant to the king’s chambers.
*******
Lylie had been expecting something dramatic.
A dark, ominous throne room, maybe. A circle of guards ready to toss her into the dungeons. Or, at the very least, the king glaring at her like she was an insect beneath his boot.
Instead, she found him sitting in his private study, flipping through a book, looking as if he had all the time in the world.
His piercing eyes flicked up as she entered.
Lylie curtsied—badly, because she had never quite mastered the art of grace. “You called for me, Your Majesty?”
Michael studied her for a long moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he closed the book and set it aside.
“You talk too much.”
Lylie gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Me? Never.”
His eyes narrowed.
Lylie smiled sweetly.
Michael exhaled, as if already regretting this conversation. “You are Ayanna’s maid, correct?”
“Technically, yes. Spiritually? I’m more of her unpaid entertainment.”
His lips almost twitched. Almost.
He leaned back in his chair, watching her with the same calculating expression he had worn the first time they met.
“You are not afraid of me.”
Lylie tilted her head. “Should I be?”
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, but Lylie had never been one to let silence win.
“So,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back, “is this the part where you execute me? Because if so, I’d like to make a final request.”
Michael raised a brow. “And that would be?”
“Let me talk through the entire thing.”
The king stared at her.
Then, to Lylie’s absolute shock—
He chuckled.
A deep, quiet sound, barely audible, but enough to make the guards stationed outside the door stiffen in shock.
Lylie grinned. “Ohhh, so you do have a sense of humor.”
Michael’s expression was unreadable again. “Sit.”
Lylie blinked. “Oh. Uh, okay.”
She sat across from him, trying to ignore the fact that she was now in the king’s private study, having an actual conversation with a man who was known for his ruthless nature.
Michael steepled his fingers. “Tell me, Lilie.”
“Correction. It’s Lylie your majesty.”
“Whatever,now tell me Lylie.”
She perked up. “Yes, Your Majesty?”
His gaze darkened, intense and unreadable.
“Do you know why I summoned you?”