Simply Difficult

I struggle to hold the tray straight. For every piece of silverware I break, they cut off a finger. The glasses filled to the brink with blood brought a horrid sour taste to my mouth. The only relief I have is the fact that it isn't my blood. Other servants bustle about, cleaning, cooking, or even praying. We don't talk to each other, not one word. We don't speak unless addressed by one of the Royals, and you can guess how often that happens. The last time I had spoken was back when I was working in the fields. A Royal struck me and I allowed myself to scream away the pain.

That was about five years ago.

I was glad to be working in the mansion now, and even happier to be a servant. Some were less fortunate to be worked as a Tester, or a Blood Slave, or a Mistress. But fate seemed to be on my side the whole way, and the odds have always been in my favor. Of course being me, I've had quite a few close calls. Every now and then I've had a tendency to sneak a peak at a certain Royal in particular, and my heart leaped each time I got away with it. Each time I got to view a small facial features until I could mentally put together a full picture, and he, like the rest of the Royals is gorgeous. Ruthless, cruel, and a monster, but also gorgeous.

I briskly walk through the large arch doorways making my way towards the Royals, all sitting around a large conference table. Their loud arguing echoed off the grand walls all the way to ceilings where the diamond chandelier hung. The hues painted on the walls of the room added a cold feel to the area, the murky dark fashion of the mansion was one to ogle over. Yet I never got to admire the scenery, my eyes always remained on the hard marble floors.

"So what exactly does the clan in the east want?" A Royal questions, I hear her reach for a glass of wine from my tray, and I slightly bow to give her better access.

"They want us to have the same government as them. They don't believe in Monarchy," I hear a loud and controlling voice state. I recognize its him immediately, his tone hides disgust, but I know the power behind it draws the attention of everyone in the room.

"Perhaps we should simply unite our clans and find a compromise between governments. It seems like the only logical route to take with war on our heels," a voice implies, his voice softer and less frightening than the first.

"If you are referring to an arranged marriage than I must disagree with your suggestion. Being the fact that it not only affects our government but also me."

"But Daemon," the female Royal interjects, "the maidens of the Eastern clan are simply beautiful, and it benefits you and your realm. Why won't you even consider-"

"I don't want them," the dominant interrupts. I don't know what it is, but something about the tone of his voice, the commanding force behind literally pulls my eyes up, until they find the source.

I find a beautifully sculpted facial structure, a head of night black hair, and dark irises beneath furrowed focusing brows. My gaze doesn't falter, and the longer I gape the harder it becomes to look away.

Suddenly he looks up, as if he could feel me staring. Alarmed my eyes widen as his gaze locks with mine.

I quickly look away and hastily turn to leave. But, while not paying attention, I bump into another servant behind me, and as I stumble backwards the tray from my hands slip and every glass of blood falls, shattering as they hit the ground. At least twenty glasses now lay destroyed on the hard floor.

Oh fuck....