Her first day

The halls of Vargorath were colder than she'd expected. Lara followed Mira closely, clutching her apron to still her trembling fingers. It was her first morning in service to the king.

"This way," Mira whispered, glancing back at her. "You'll help with the king's morning preparations. It's just linen and water, nothing difficult."

Nothing difficult, except the knot in her stomach. They paused outside the great double doors of the king's chamber. Mira handed her the polished tray with fresh cloths and a pitcher of heated water. "Announce yourself, gently. He doesn't like to be startled."

Lara nodded, barely.

She stepped forward, heart drumming.

A soft knock. "Good morning, Your Majesty," she said, voice low, even and respectful.

A pause. Then, "Enter."

Thornak stood near the hearth, the early light brushing across his bare chest like a painter's hand. His skin, marked with faint scars and the strength of battle, gleamed in the soft glow, each breath making the muscles in his torso shift like drawn bowstrings.

Lara froze as she stepped inside, the tray trembling faintly in her grasp. Her eyes, wide despite herself, drank in the sight. Heat crept up her neck. She had never seen any man like this.

Lara looked down instantly, then she moved quietly into the adjoining chamber, where the black stone bathing tub waited, half-filled from the night's preparations. She added fresh steaming water from the copper pitcher, the heat rising in gentle mist.

Uncorking a small vial, she poured in a few drops of scented oil, lavender with a touch of myrrh, watching it swirl through the water.

Afterwards, she crossed the room in silence and set the tray down by the washing basin.

He stepped toward her then, slowly, as if unaware of the storm he had stirred in her chest.

"Is the bath ready?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, my King," she managed, dipping her head in a respectful bow.

"Good," he said.

He stepped into the bath, steam rising and curling around him like smoke.

In the next room, she quietly began her tasks. She smoothed the bedcovers and unfolded fresh linens. His garments were laid out with care, every crease straight.

She lit the candles, then turned to adjust the curtains, letting in the dawnlight.

The heat rose around Thornak as he sat in the bath. The water was hot, just the way he liked it. He leaned back, muscles loosening, but his mind didn't drift far.

When she first entered, something in him shifted. Her scent, wildflowers, hit him like an arrow, wrapping around him. It awakened everything in him. The beast beneath his skin stirred, restless, furious that she walked in without bearing his mark. Without knowing she was his.

It took every ounce of willpower for Thornak to calm his wolf, to silence the primal urge that screamed at him to rise from the water, claim her, carry her away and make her his. Everything inside him roared in protest, instincts demanding he take her, mark her, shield her from the world.

He clenched his jaw, forcing the breath from his lungs. The heat of the basin did nothing to soothe the fire beneath his skin. Slowly, painfully, he wrestled back control, letting reason trickle in like cold water. He could not afford to lose himself. Not yet.

Thornak stepped out of the tub and pulled on a black robe lined with fur. As he walked across the room barefooted, he caught sight of Lara setting his breakfast just as he had requested the previous day to dine alone.

Jax growled in discontent, furious that their mate was reduced to such a lowly position. She was their Queen, deserving of reverence and respect, not scrubbing floors and serving others. But Thornak knew the harsh realities of their world. By keeping her close as a maid, he could watch over her, protect her from those who would seek to harm her, and perhaps, just perhaps, keep her safe from his own kind's expectations and dangers. It was a thin veil of protection, but it was the only way he could think of to keep her by his side without putting her in the crosshairs of those who would seek to use her against him.

Thornak said nothing. Just watched as she stood, her movements graceful, quiet, unaware of the storm clawing beneath his skin..

Thornak paused behind her, his voice low but firm.

"Set the table for two, Lara. I'll be dining with you this morning."

Lara froze, her hands stilling over the plates.

"I… I beg your pardon, my king?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, uncertain she'd heard him right.

Thornak turned to face her fully now, his expression unreadable. "Set the table for two."

She blinked, the tray nearly slipping from her hands. "O-okay… Your Majesty," she murmured, bowing her head and moving quickly to obey, though her mind raced with questions she dared not ask.

Lara set the second place with shaky hands, unsure what it meant. Royals didn't eat with maids.

On the table, she had laid out warm flatbreads, honeyed figs, and roasted strips of meat. A bowl of berry compote sat beside a plate of golden eggs cooked with herbs. A clay pot of spiced tea steamed gently between two cups, and a small dish of salted butter completed the meal.

Thornak watched her in silence, then said, "Sit."

She hesitated, then sat slowly.

He joined her already dressed and poured both of their tea. She blinked. "Thank you, my King."

"When it's just us," he said, "call me Thornak."

She wasn't sure she heard him right, but nodded all the same, heart racing.

They ate in silence at first. The clink of silverware echoed in the still chamber. She took small bites, afraid her hands would betray her nerves.

But then she glanced up and found his eyes already on her. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she quickly dropped her gaze, too shy to meet his eyes.

When the meal was done, Thornak sat in silence for a moment, watching her gather the dishes.

"Anytime I have breakfast in my room ," he said, voice low but clear, "you'll sit and eat with me."

Lara's hands stilled. She looked over her shoulder, nervously.

"Yes, Your Majesty." she said and left.