Playing The Alphas

Chapter 72: The Servant’s Discovery

SAMANTHA freeweɓnovel.cøm

I slipped back into the penthouse as quietly as I could, but the moment the door clicked shut, I knew I was in trouble.

The servant stood in the center of the living room with her arms crossed and her foot tapping against the floor. Her face was tight and her lips were pressed together. Her eyes were narrow.

"Two hours," she said, her voice was sharp. "You said ten minutes. Ten minutes, Miss Samuels. I gave you ten minutes."

I closed the door behind me. "I am sorry."

"Sorry?" She threw her hands in the air. "Do you know what time it is? Do you know how long I have been searching for you? Prince Darlington is waiting too and I haven’t prepared you. He won’t be pleased."

"I lost track of time."

"You lost track of time?" She stepped closer. Her voice rose. "I searched the dining hall. I searched the gardens. I searched the corridors. I even asked the guards if they had seen you. They looked at me like I was insane."

"I did not mean to worry you."

"Worry me? Miss Samuels, I was not worried. I was terrified. Do you know what would have happened if the king had come looking for you? Do you know what would have happened if Prince Darlington had arrived early and found you gone?"

I bit my lip. "I did not think about that."

"Clearly." She grabbed my arm. Her fingers dug into my sleeve. "Look at you. Your hair is a mess. Your dress is dirty. What is that on your hands?"

I looked down. My knuckles were red scraped from falling in the library, from catching myself on the stone floor.

"I tripped," I said.

"You tripped?"

"In the library. Yes, I stumbled and caught myself on a bookshelf."

The servant grabbed my hands. She turned them over. Her fingers traced the scratches.

"These are not from a bookshelf," she said. "These are from stone. Did you do any menial work for the librarian? And your nails... there is dirt under your nails. Library dirt?"

I pulled my hands back. "I told you. I tripped."

She did not believe me. I could see it in her eyes. She circled me slowly. Her gaze moved across my body like she was inspecting a crime scene.

"What is all this?" she asked, pointing at my shoulder. "There is dust on your dress. Not just dust. Cobwebs. Where have you been?" frёewebηovel.cѳm

"The library has cobwebs."

"The library is cleaned daily. I checked it myself this morning. There were no cobwebs."

I said nothing.

She stopped behind me. She lifted my hair. Her fingers touched the back of my head.

"Why is the back of your head filled with dust?" she asked. "And why are your knuckles hardened? And why..." She grabbed my arm. She turned it over. "Why do you have blood stains on your sleeve? Small ones like puncture marks."

My heart stopped.

"Let me see your arm," she said.

I pulled away. "It is nothing."

"Miss Samuels, show me your arm."

I hesitated, then I extended my arm.

The servant held it to the light. Her fingers traced the inside of my elbow. The tiny red dots where Vera’s needle had pierced my skin.

"Someone poked you with a needle," she said. Her voice sounded more worried now. "Someone took your blood."

"I do not know what you are talking about."

"Do not lie to me." She grabbed my other arm and turned it over. They are more marks, more tiny red dots. "Look at this. Look at all of this. Someone has been sticking you with needles multiple times."

"I fell on something sharp."

"You fell on something sharp five times? On both arms? In the exact same spots where veins are?"

I pulled my arms back and covered them with my sleeves.

"Please," I said. "Do not tell anyone."

The servant stared at me. Her eyes were hard. But there was something else there too. Fear.

"Who did this to you?" she asked.

"I cannot say."

"Was it one of the princes?"

"No."

"A guard?"

"No."

"Then who?"

I shook my head. "If I tell you, you won’t believe me. I fainted in the library and I was very sure Vera turned into a young woman. She took some of my blood and then liked it was a vision."

Oops! Did I just blurt that out?

The servant was silent for a long moment, then she walked to a small table against the wall. She picked up a bowl of flower petals and held them up.

"Sit down," she said.

The servant knelt in front of me. She dipped her fingers in the bowl and began to rub the petals on my hands, knuckles and the scratches.

"The king would have my head if he saw you like this," she muttered. "Prince Darlington would have my head. The other princes would fight over who gets to tear it off first."

"I am sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"Because I keep meaning it."

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. "What happened in that library, Miss Samuels? And do not lie to me again. I have been a servant in this palace for fifteen years. I have seen things. I know things. And I know when someone is hiding something."

I looked away. "I cannot tell you."

"Then I cannot help you."

"I do not need help. I need you to forget what you saw."

The servant shook her head. She dipped her fingers in the bowl again. She rubbed more petals on my arms.

"Forget," she said. "That is what you want me to do? Forget that someone attacked you? Forget that someone took your blood?"

"Yes."

"That is not how forgetting works."

"Then pretend. Pretend you did not see anything."

The servant was silent. She worked on my arms.

"Your head," she said. "Turn around."

I turned and she parted my hair, rubbinh the petals on the back of my scalp.

"Whoever did this was not gentle," she said. "There are scrapes here. Bruises forming. You hit the floor hard."

"I fell."

"You were pushed."

I said nothing.

The servant finished amd set the bowl aside. She sat back on her heels.

"You are a terrible liar, Miss Samuels."

"I am learning."

"Learn faster. Or you will not survive this place."

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She was not just a servant. She was a woman. A woman with her own fears. Her own struggles. Her own secrets.

"Thank you," I said.

She blinked. "For what?"

"For caring. For not running to the king the moment you saw the marks."

The servant’s face softened.

"I have been a servant for fifteen years," she said. "I have seen slaves come and go. Some lasted. Most did not. The ones who lasted were the ones who had someone watching their back."

"And you want to watch my back?"

"I want to keep you alive. Because if you die, the king will blame me. And if the king blames me, I will be the one scrubbing floors in the dungeon for the rest of my life."

I almost smiled. "That is very practical."

"I am a practical woman."

I reached out and pulled her into a hug.

The servant froze, her body went stiff. Her arms hung at her sides. She did not know what to do.

"You are too angry," I said against her ear. "Calm down. Calm down."

She did not move.

"Breathe in," I said. "And out."

She inhaled. Shaky.

"Again."

She inhaled again. Slower this time.

"Again."

Her shoulders relaxed and her arms came up; prompting her to hug me back.

"It has been so long," she whispered. "Since someone hugged me."

I held her tighter. "I really needed that."

I just hoped she wouldn’t tell Vera what I had revealed about her. The palace was filled with secrets and no one could be trusted.