The Warrior and the Princess (on hold)

Chapter 2

Caleth entered his chamber, immediately lay himself down on the mattress. Weariness clinging to him like a shadow. He hadn't slept in days, his mind consumed by the demands of war and the meticulous planning it required. As soon as he stretched his long body on the bed, every part of his body ached, reminding him that, despite being only thirty-two, the relentless battles had worn him down far beyond his years.

A maid entered quietly, bowing in front of him. He forced himself to sit up and moved to the edge of the bed. She had been tending to him for over a year, moving through her tasks with practiced efficiency. Without a word, she began to remove his armor—first the chest plate, then the armlets, each piece fell away with a metallic thud on the floor. Then she removed his belt, and boots, and finally his clothes, leaving only the tattoos that marked his skin, symbols of battles fought, and victories won.

The maid, Siella, worked with the quiet precision he had come to expect. She was a familiar presence, yet one he barely noticed beyond her duties. As she moved to prepare the bath, Caleth leaned back again, closing his eyes for just a moment. His body was exhausted, but his mind remained sharp, still running through the endless calculations of war.

Siella poured a few drops of oil into the water, stirring it slowly before announcing that the bath was ready. Caleth stood, walked toward the tub, and stepped in without a word. The water soothed his aching muscles, and for a moment, the weight of the kingdom, the war, and the battles yet to come seemed to lift.

"You may leave," he said, his voice was barely a whisper. This was his time to find peace, brief as it might be.

"Yes, my Lord. I will return with your dinner," Siella replied, and she backed away, head bowed, before turning and quietly exiting the room. Once outside, she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Siella knew her place well, but it didn't stop her from feeling the overwhelming pull of admiration for the man she served.

After setting up the General's dinner in his chamber, Siella went back outside and stood outside the door, her thoughts swirling like the wind outside the palace walls. Caleth, the War General, was a man of mystery to everyone in the kingdom, but especially to her. Unlike the other lords in the palace, who indulged in the company of multiple maids, Caleth never touched any of them—not even once. She had asked his previous maid, an elderly woman who had cared for him since infancy, and she confirmed it. The General had always been decent, though distant, with his servants. More peculiar still was his preference for only one personal maid at a time, while the other lords could have up to ten.

Siella knew, deep down, that she had fallen for him. It wasn't just admiration or loyalty—it was something deeper, more consuming. She would do anything just to get him to notice her, to acknowledge her beyond the impersonal tasks she performed. To hear him call her by her name, just once, would feel like a victory.

She had tried everything. She spent her entire month's wages on cosmetics—rouge for her cheeks and lips, kohl for her eyes—in an attempt to make her plain features more striking. But despite her efforts, he never took a second glance at her. She even dared to lower the collar of her dress, letting her cleavage peek out in hopes that he might notice. Yet, it was as if she were invisible to him.

Once, gathering all her courage, Siella had made a bolder move. With trembling hands and a flushed face, she had offered to please him in a way that she knew other maids would offer to their lords.

But Caleth had bluntly refused.

There was no anger in his refusal, just a simple, cold dismissal that stung more than any harsh words ever could. Siella had felt her heart sink, from both the rejection and the realization that no matter what she did, she would never be more than a servant to him.