Jealous Rage

The silence stretches like a held breath. Seraphina's perfect smile falters for just a moment before snapping back into place, but I catch the flash of fury in her eyes.

"Of course," she says, her voice still honey-sweet. "I meant no offense. I was simply... getting acquainted with your household."

"My household is not your concern." Kael descends the stairs slowly, each step echoing in the silent hall. "Mira, escort Lady Seraphina to the guest chambers. See that she has everything she needs."

It's a dismissal wrapped in courtesy, but everyone understands. Seraphina's lips thin, but she nods graciously.

"How thoughtful. I am rather tired from my journey." Her eyes find mine one last time, and the promise in them makes my blood freeze. "I'm sure we'll have many opportunities to... chat."

As she glides away with her entourage of servants, Kael turns to me. "You. With me. Now."

I follow him through corridors that seem to stretch forever, past tapestries and portraits that blur together. Neither of us speaks until we reach his chambers.

"What were you doing in the main hall?" he asks the moment the door closes.

"Princess Lyra was helping me with-"

"I didn't ask about my sister. I asked what you were doing there."

"Returning to your chambers, Master. As instructed."

He studies my face for a long moment, looking for lies. "She touched you."

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

I hesitate. Tell him about her threats, and I risk making things worse. Stay silent, and... "She said she would be the next princess. That everything here would belong to her."

"Including me?"

"Yes."

Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. "And what did you think of that?"

The question feels like stepping onto thin ice. "I think she's beautiful and cultured and everything a prince should want."

"That's not what I asked."

"I think..." I choose my words carefully. "I think she sees me as a threat to be eliminated."

"And are you? A threat?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be, Master."

He moves closer, his hand lifting to touch my cheek where Seraphina's fingers had been. "She left marks."

I hadn't felt them, but his touch is gentle, almost reverent. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." His voice is quiet, but there's steel beneath it. "No one touches what's mine without permission."

"She didn't know-"

"She knew exactly what she was doing." His thumb traces along my jawline.

*****

The next morning arrives with unseasonable heat that makes even the stone corridors feel stifling. I've been kneeling beside Kael's chair in the courtyard for what feels like hours while he discusses trade agreements with a collection of aging lords.

Servants move quietly around us, refilling goblets with cool wine and offering damp cloths to combat the oppressive heat. My throat feels like sandpaper as I watch crystal decanters pass by, but I don't ask. Haven't asked for anything in weeks.

"The northern routes are completely blocked," Lord Blackthorne drones, accepting a fresh goblet from a waiting maid. "Bandits, they say, but I suspect political interference."

"Naturally," Kael replies, but his attention seems elsewhere. His fingers drum against his chair arm in a rhythm that suggests barely contained energy.

"Perhaps we should consider the coastal routes instead?" another lord suggests, dabbing his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

"The coastal routes..." Kael's voice trails off, distracted. His eyes flick to me, then away. "Yes. Whatever proves most efficient."

The lords exchange glances at his uncharacteristic lack of focus, but continue their discussion. A servant approaches with a tray of refreshments, offering cool water and wine to each noble in turn.

"Brother, forgive the interruption." Prince Damon's voice carries across the courtyard as he approaches with measured steps, holding an important-looking scroll. "The grain manifest from the eastern provinces has arrived. The numbers will affect whatever route decisions you make."

It's a perfectly legitimate reason to join the meeting. Kael nods curtly as Damon takes his place at the table, but I catch the way his shoulders tense.

"Excellent timing," Lord Blackthorne says. "Prince Damon, your insights on the eastern trade would be valuable."

As the discussion continues, I notice Damon's eyes drift to me with calculated precision. When a servant approaches with the refreshment tray, he intercepts her.

"Allow me," he says smoothly, taking a goblet of water. To the assembled lords, it appears as nothing more than a prince ensuring proper hospitality. "The heat is quite oppressive today. We should ensure everyone remains comfortable."

Then, with practiced ease, he approaches me. "You look... in need of refreshment."

The pause is barely perceptible, but loaded with meaning. In front of the lords, it seems like casual courtesy - a prince showing concern during a long meeting. But I catch the calculation in his brown eyes, the slight smile that doesn't reach them.

I glance at Kael, but he's gripping his own goblet so tightly his knuckles have gone white. The temperature around him seems to drop despite the morning heat.

"Thank you, Your Highness," I whisper, accepting the water. It's blessedly cool, and I drink it carefully, aware of every eye on me.

"Much better, I'm sure," Damon says, his voice carrying just enough warmth to seem genuine to the watching lords.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Kael's voice cuts across the courtyard like a whip crack. Every conversation stops mid-sentence. Every head turns. The servants freeze where they stand, trays trembling in their hands.

The lords shift uncomfortably, suddenly aware they're witnessing something far more dangerous than a simple family disagreement.

Damon's expression remains perfectly composed, but I catch a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "Ensuring proper hospitality, brother. The heat affects everyone."

"She is my responsibility." Kael stands from his chair, and I've never seen him this angry. His hands shake with barely contained rage. "Mine alone."

"Of course," Damon replies smoothly, but there's steel beneath his diplomatic tone now. "I simply thought - in front of our esteemed guests - we should demonstrate appropriate courtesy to all present."

"Don't presume to tell me about courtesy." Spittle flies from Kael's lips. His eyes have gone completely black. "You had no right to interfere."

The lords are backing away now, sensing violence in the air like animals before a storm. Even the guards look nervous. Lord Blackthorne whispers something urgent to his companion - they will speak of this in hushed tones behind silk fans for months to come.

"It was merely water," Damon says, but his voice wavers as he finally recognizes the true extent of his brother's fury. "Nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Kael takes a step forward, then another. "You don't touch her. You don't speak to her. You don't even acknowledge her existence without my explicit permission."

"Since when do you care so much about a slave?" The words slip out before Damon can stop them - his careful composure finally cracking under the weight of Kael's rage.

Wrong thing to say.

Kael moves faster than human eyes can follow. His fist connects with Damon's jaw with a sound like breaking wood. Damon staggers backward, blood streaming from his nose, shock and pain warring in his brown eyes.

"Get up," Kael snarls.

"Brother, please-" Damon's voice cracks with disbelief.

Kael's boot catches Damon in the ribs. The younger prince doubles over, gasping. "I said get up!"

This isn't a fight. It's a beating. Kael hauls Damon upright only to drive his fist into his stomach. Damon retches, bile spattering the stone, his eyes wide with the terrible understanding that his brother - his protector since childhood - has become his destroyer.

"Stop!" The word tears from my throat before I can stop it. "Please, he was just being kind!"

Kael freezes mid-swing. Slowly, he turns to look at me, and his face is a mask of fury and something else - something that looks almost like betrayal.

"Kind?" he repeats softly. "You think he was being kind?"

He grabs Damon by the hair and slams his face into the stone table. Once. Twice. Blood spatters across the white marble like abstract art. Damon's muffled cry of pain echoes off the courtyard walls.

"This is what kindness gets you," Kael pants, holding his brother's bleeding face inches from the stone. "This is what happens when you touch what's mine."

The assembled lords watch in horrified fascination. Some cover their eyes. Others stare openly, already calculating what this means for the balance of power. The Lord's now look at the pet with disgust.

"Please," I whisper. "He's your brother."

"He's nothing." Kael releases Damon, who crumples to the ground like a broken doll. "Less than nothing."

Damon tries to speak through his ruined lips. "Why?" is all he manages, blood bubbling with each word. The question carries twenty years of brotherhood, of shared laughter and secrets and love.

Kael stares down at him for a long moment. When he finally speaks, his voice is deadly quiet.

"Because she's mine. Because every kindness you show her is a kindness stolen from me. Because when she looks at you with gratitude, she should be looking at me."

He turns to the frozen lords, his gaze sweeping over faces pale with shock and calculation. "Anyone else feeling generous toward my pet?"

Silence. The kind of silence that will echo through every noble house by nightfall, carried on whispered words and meaningful glances.

"Excellent." He gestures to the guards. "Take Prince Damon to the healers.

As they carry his broken brother away, Kael returns to his chair as if nothing happened. He picks up his wine goblet with steady hands, but I notice the slight tremor that betrays his lingering rage.

"Now then," he says conversationally to the pale-faced lords, "about those trade routes."

But none of them are looking at him anymore. They're all staring at me - the slave girl who somehow drove a prince to attempted fratricide with nothing more than a grateful smile. In their eyes, I see fear, calculation, and the dawning realization that the balance of power in this court has shifted in ways they're only beginning to understand.

I kneel there in the morning heat, tasting water and blood and the bitter knowledge that Kael's possessiveness runs deeper than I ever imagined.

Deep enough to destroy his own family.

Deep enough to terrify everyone who witnesses it.