Page 18 of His Lost Lycan Luna

I pack everything up and head downstairs and outside, dumping the dirt in the garden beds outside the main entrance. Then, I put the equipment away. Once I have finished doing that, I head back upstairs before remembering it is nearly dinner. I look at the enormous grandfather clock next to the guard, who hasn’t moved.

How can he stand so still? Then it dawns on me; it is 6 o'clock! I rush back down the few steps I had just walked up, though panic already has me moving quickly. Heading for the kitchen, I skid through the kitchen doors, my shoes screeching on the polished floors and slamming my hip against the countertop.

The moment I walk in, Clarice is waiting for me. She shoves the tray into my hands, clearly unhappy with my late arrival. She doesn’t say anything, so I resist the urge to ask if I will be punished. Giving her a quick nod, I turn on my heels and race back upstairs while praying he isn’t in his room yet.

I move as quickly as my body allows. With adrenaline coursing through my veins, it’s actually pretty fast. As I burst into his room, I freeze immediately. He is already here, sitting in his chair by the bookshelf. The moment I enter, he drops his book onto the small table and he leans back in his chair watching me. I chew my lip nervously as his face twists into an expression of anger and annoyance. His brows furrow and his jaw clenches. He motions for me to do what I am here for. Yet when I move, his eyes narrow, and his lips press tightly together in a thin line. He is clearly displeased with my tardiness.

Hastily, I move quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. I place the tray in front of him before taking a step back and bowing. He doesn’t say a word, but he clearly isn’t pleased that his routine was disrupted; that much is clear.

I escape the King's room and walk to mine. Exhausted, I sit on the bed. As I put my head in my hands, I remember the stupid cut eyebrow I have. The blood trickles down my face again, and I grab my damp rag and dab at the spot to stop it. I want Abbie, and I miss her terribly; we have only been separated for mere hours, and the ache to see her is already overwhelming. This is too hard without her by my side. We always get through everything together.

Sighing, I hold the rag against my brow, wincing at the slight sting. I try to lie down on my side and rest for a moment, trying to find a comfortable position. However, I give up and decide just to endure the pain. I will just close my eyes for a minute…

A knock at my door awakens me; Clarice steps into my small room. She sets her hands on her hips and gives me a disapproving look. Confused, I groan, sitting upright. Clarice's face is stern and her eyes narrow in disapproval. Her lips purse and her brows pinch as she glares at me. Great, another person is disappointed and frustrated with me.

"Are you mad? One day and you fall asleep on the job! The King has been waiting for you to clear his room for two hours!" she hisses at me. As Clarice scolds me, I feel a wave of fear and dread wash over me. My stomach drops as I realize the King has been waiting for me to clear the room for two hours. The thought alone makes me feel sick to my stomach, imagining the King's displeasure, and the consequences I'll have to face.

ChapterTwelve

IVY

My eyes flit to the small alarm clock on the small dresser. "Two hours?" I shriek, and Clarice clicks her tongue. With a horrified gasp, I jump to my feet in shock.

“I'm sorry! I must have drifted off! I haven’t slept! I will do it now!" I tell Clarice while yanking my shoes on.

"What do you mean you haven't slept?"

"Abbie and I have been up since 3 am yesterday morning. Well, Abbie fell asleep in the car here, but I couldn't sleep, and then we had to work." I shrug, slipping my other shoe on.

Clarice sighs and shakes her head. "Why didn't you tell me that when you arrived? I didn't know, but you need to get your ass in there. I tried to clean the King's room, but he said it's your job, so you have to do it." I cringe at her words.

"Is he mad? Am I in trouble?" I can’t help but ask. I’m not sure I can handle any more punishment at the moment.

"Of course, he's mad; he's the King! You made him wait for a rogue servant," she says, and tears brim in my eyes at her words, making me notice what a silly question that was to even ask. I am the lowest of the low in society, the trash. Of course, he's mad at me. Clarice smiles sadly, yet her face is heavy with disappointment. She steps closer and pats my back in what is supposed to be a sympathetic gesture. However, I groan and jerk away from her touch as pain ripples up my back.

"Get it together, Ivy. You are the King's servant. I am trying to help, but I can only do so much," she snaps at me. Dropping my head, I give her a quick nod and she walks out, leaving me to slip out of the room after her.

Lying down had been the worst mistake. Now I feel stiff, which makes the pain even worse. I hesitate to knock on the door and nervously chew my lip. My heart races knowing I have no choice but to go in and face him. Lifting my hand--

"You can enter," he says before I have the chance to knock. I inhale a deep breath, forcing my legs to move. He is sitting on the chaise, reading under the lamp when I enter.

He wears blue pajama pants, his chest bare. I glance away, moving on to the task at hand. My hands tremble as I clean up the mess on his table. His aura tells me he is angry with me, and I fight the urge to cower under it. As I place everything back on the tray, I feel his gaze on me.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from crying out at standing upright. I am impressed with myself; not one noise escapes me, despite wanting to scream with each movement. Only when I look up, the King watches me still. I swallow, drop my head, and walk to the door.

"Come back and see me when you are done," he says, making me freeze. Glancing over my shoulder his gaze goes back to his book.

"Yes, sir," I answer as I turn and walk out. I make the horrendous trek once again down the steps, wondering what my punishment will be when I notice that guard again.

Maybe it is a statue? He hasn’t moved. How is that possible? I wave my hand in front of his face. He looks real but nothing: no facial twitch, not even a blink. I shake my head as I move toward the kitchen.

"Dinner," Clarice says as she points to the plate on the bench when I enter through the doors.

"I can't. The King asked me to go back to see him," I explain.

"Very well, off you go then. Don't make him wait; you already did that,” she says.

Turning, I leave with my stomach growling, but I ignore it. It is not the first time I have gone hungry, and it won't be the last–that I am sure of.

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