Substitute bride of the king

Raven’s Pov;

I knew she was furious. The sharp edge of her heels clicked against the marble floor echoing like the crack of a whip. Servants scurried out of her way, pressing themselves agsinst the cold stone wall as though they were trying to disappear. like frightened mice.

I knew, without a doubt, that I would be the one to bear the brunt of her rage.

It had become more frequent. Ever since leaving the throne room these past weeks, Princess Ellie had been coming back angry.

The doors to her chambers slammed shut behind us, and before I could so much as breathe, her voice rang out, laced with barely contained fury.

“He gave her to him!”

She ripped the pins from her golden hair, throwing them onto the vanity with enough force that one rolled off and hit the floor. I didn’t dare pick it up.

“I should have known,” she seethed, pacing around the room. “I should have known that  my father wouldn’t allow me even this.”

I remained silent, standing stiffly by the wall, my hands clasped in front of me. I had learned long ago that nothing I said in moments like this would soothe her, instead, it’d infuriate her even further.”

The Duke of Redvine. That was who she meant. The man she had admired from a distance for years, the only noble who had ever shown her kindness. I had seen the way she looked at him, the way her eyes lit up whenever he acknowledged her existence. But tonight, King Alaric had made the announcement before the entire court, Duke Philip of Redvine was to be Celeste’s betrothed.

And Ellie had been forced to smile through it.

Now, I was her only outlet.

Her footsteps halted suddenly. When she turned, her blue eyes burned with hatred.

“It’s because of you.”

I stiffened. “Your Highness…”

“If your mother had taught you anything about etiquette, about how to serve properly, maybe I wouldn’t be the disgrace that I am.”

The words stung, but I forced myself to stay still.

My mother had once been a lady-in-waiting, just as I was now. She had served in the palace before I was even born, and for years, she had tried to instill in me the grace and composure required for such a role.

But Ellie was not like other princesses.

She was a storm, and storms did not like being contained.

She moved so quickly I barely had time to react.

Wham!

The first slap landed across my cheek, a sharp sting that burned into my skin. My head snapped to the side, but I didn’t move, didn’t cry out either.

This was the norm.

She struck me again.

And again.

The force of the last one  sent me stumbling, my knees hitting the cold marble floor. Blood filled my mouth, the metallic tang bitter on my tongue, but I swallowed it down.

I could fight back. I could strike her just as easily.

But what would happen to me if I did? What would hapI saw it so clearly—guards dragging me away, my mother left alone in that tiny, damp cottage, her fever growing worse with no one to care for her.

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.

This was why I endured.

This was why I kept my head down, even when every fiber of my being screamed at me to retaliate.

Ellie loomed over me, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “You should be grateful,” she hissed. “Grateful that I even let you serve me.”

I said nothing.

This would pass. It always did.

Eventually, she sank onto the edge of the bed, her fury spent. I took that as my cue.

Ignoring the sharp ache in my limbs, I pushed myself to my feet. My movements were careful and precise, as if any sudden motion might set her off again.I swallowed the metallic taste of blood as I carefully folded a silk shawl over my shoulders, ensuring the fabric draped high enough to cover the bruises blooming along my arms.

Without a word, I left the room.

The bruises wouldn’t show until morning, but I knew how to hide them.I had gotten good at this. Too good.

I turned down the corridor, making my way towards the servants’ kitchen. When I returned to the princess’ chambers, I carried a small porcelain cup filled with honeyed tea.

She barely glanced at me as I knelt beside her, offering the cup. “Drink this, Your Highness.”

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, she took it from my hands.

“She doesn’t even love him,” she muttered, her fingers trembling against the porcelain. “Celeste will have Philip, and she won’t even care.”

I lowered my gaze. There was nothing to say.

The eldest princess had been given everything without ever having to ask. Celeste was the crown jewel of the kingdom, the favored daughter, the perfect princess. She had everything Ellie wanted—respect, admiration, a future.

I should feel bad for Ellie. I should sympathize with her.

But I couldn’t.

How could I?

Her pain had turned me into her scapegoat.

She sipped the tea in silence, and after a while, she spoke, her voice softer. “You can leave now.”

I didn’t hesitate. I stood, bowed low, and slipped out of her chambers.

The servants’ quarters were hidden in the farthest corner of the palace grounds, where the grand halls and golden chandeliers gave way to plain stone and wooden doors. It was quiet this time of the night, only the distant hoot of an owl breaking the silence as I stepped inside the small cottage where my mother and I lived.

The air smelled faintly of dried herbs.

I found her in bed, her once-strong frame curled beneath thin blankets, her breath uneven. The candle beside her flickered.

“Mother,” I whispered, setting down the small pack of herbs I had gathered earlier that evening.

She stirred, her tired eyes fluttering open. Despite the fever clinging to her skin, her lips curled into a soft smile. “You’re late tonight.”

I forced a smile of my own. “The princess needed me longer than usual.”

Her eyes flickered with understanding.

I turned away quickly, reaching for the small mortar and pestle. “I found some feverfew near the western garden,” I said, focusing on grinding the leaves. “It should help bring your temperature down.”

My mother sighed, her voice laced with both weariness and affection. “You work too hard, my dear.”

I hummed in response, refusing to look at her.  I didn’t want her to see, didn’t want her to worry.

But She knew what I was hiding.

“Come here,” she murmured.

I hesitated, then slowly made my way to her bedside. She reached up, her fingers brushing  against my cheek.

I flinched.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” Her voice broke, and suddenly, her arms were around me, pulling me against her frail frame. “She did this to you again, didn’t she?”

I stiffened, trying to pull away. “It’s nothing, Mother.”

But she only held me tighter, pressing a kiss to my hair. “You shouldn’t have to endure this.”

I clenched my jaw, blinking the tears away. “It’s fine.”

I had no other choice anyways! We needed the money, especially for my mother’s treatment.

My mother sighed against me, her warmth fragile but familiar. “You deserve more than this life, my dear.”

I didn’t answer, because I had already made my choice.

Instead, I curled against her like I was a child again, listening to the soft, unsteady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Morning mist clung to the trees as I stepped beyond the palace walls.

My satchel hung heavy over my shoulder, filled with parchment, ink, and a few medical texts I had borrowed from the royal library.

The female official examination.

It was my way out. The only way a servant could rise above their status. If I passed, I would no longer be bound to the princess. I would be free, I would have a status. A wage. And the right to take my mother away from this place.

I just had to succeed.

The thought gave me strength as I stepped into the forest, moving towards the hidden clearing where I always studied.

The forest was still. Only the gentle sound of the river and the distant calls of birds filled the air.

My fingers grazed the hilt of the dagger strapped to my pants.  It was a gift, or rather, a loan from Tate, one of the knights from the palace and the only person who dared to call me a friend. “You shouldn't be going out alone,” he had said, pressing the blade into my hands the night before. “If something happens, use this.” I had promised him I would.

Suddenly, I felt a presence.

I froze.

Across the river stood a man.

He was draped in dark clothing that did little to hide the toned muscle underneath. And he was Watching me!

I moved before I could think, my fingers curling around the hilt of the dagger as I rose to my feet, my blade pointed in his direction.

The stranger’s lips curved, amusement flickered in his eyes as he smirked.

“Well,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That’s no way to greet someone, little doe.”

I tightened my grip. “Who are you?”

Instead of replying, he smirked.