They were not even a foot apart—so close, almost too close to touch.
Edric laid one hand flat on his thigh, tapping it gently with his index finger, while his right hand held out a paper. He pretended to study the report, though his peripheral vision remained fixed on Florence. He caught her stealing glances at him—once… twice.
Her heartbeat was really loud. Annoying, he told himself.
Her clothes rustled as she violently tried wiping off the ink. Florence had been working all morning, yet she smelled like the forest, wild and fresh. Edric's urge slowly began to stir.
Twenty-seven years, and no one had shaken him like this. He wasn't a saint.
Crowned young, hardened by nearly a decade of war, he had indulged in women, alcohol, and luxurious hobbies. They kept him content for a while, but he always lost interest.
This time, too, he assumed it would be the same.
She was a mystery. A puzzle he was eager to solve. And once he did, he'd grow bored, he was sure of it.
'Yet she fears me. How am I to trap her without using my power?' he mused,His tapping grew harsher as he focused on the paperwork.
Florence grew anxious. He was annoyed. She could tell, and it was probably because of her. A mere low-ranked maid this close to the king? Any noble would be furious.
He, at least, tolerated her.
When she finally finished, a quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips.Her face flushed with nervousness. One wrong move, and it could mean the end of her.
She clasped her dirty hands behind her back and stepped away a few paces.
"I apologize once more, Your Majesty," she said, bowing respectfully before quickly retrieving her basket. 'A mere servant must never turn her back on her master,' she reminded herself. One mistake, and she might be dismissed.
His eyes stayed on her, watching every movement, every flutter of her clothes.
Before she could escape the room, Edric spoke." Inform the butler to bring in Sebastian."
"At once, Your Majesty." She bowed again and left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.
Edric stared at the closed door for a few seconds, then forced himself to return to the report. Even after she'd gone, her scent lingered. She smelled like the forest.
With his heightened vampire senses, he could even hear her sigh with relief from beyond the hall.
It wasn't surprising that she feared him, or at least remained wary. A creature like him deserved that reaction. Still, deep down, he'd expected her to be at least a little drawn to him. Maybe not as strongly as he was to her, but something.
But not fear.
He would never admit, not even to himself, that a woman could shake his core like this.
She was a forest witch. Of course, she smelled like the wild. She could brew potions, speak to animals, and wield small amounts of magic, though her skill was limited.
Still, witches like her had the power to tame beasts.
Perhaps that was why he was drawn to her.
She made him feel oddly at ease, just by being near.
After Florence delivered Edric's message, she was given a twenty-minute lunch break.
She ate quickly, eager to sneak into her new room. It was a shared dorm now, and she hadn't met her roommate yet.
Unlike before, when Claude had arranged a quiet corner with a room of her own, this didn't seem like one of his carefully crafted plans. Back then, he'd placed her in a spot where no one would come.
But this... this was different.
She took out a pen and paper, racing against the ticking clock of her short break.
The pen, a gift from Claude, only revealed its ink when the paper got wet.
'I've been transferred to the main castle as a maid. I suspect they've found something.'
She finished writing, stashed the pen, and called over a nearby bird to deliver the letter to Claude.
No animal ever refused her. To them, she was a mother.
Forest witches like Florence were incredibly rare. Those who reached her level were usually taken to the Alchemist Tower, where they'd spend their lives brewing potions.
Florence had narrowly escaped that fate. Her powers had awakened much later than usual. Every witch manifested their abilities in early adolescence.
Florence's powers came just a year before her coming-of-age ceremony, for some unknown reason.
Every species was categorized into three levels:
Low-levels could control only one kind of skill.
Mid-levels—like Florence—could manipulate multiple elements, though not masterfully.
High-levels had complete mastery over every element. They were rare. Dangerous. Desired. Like Edric.
Once her break was over, she headed toward the third floor to collect the laundry.
The castle had seven floors, including the underground. Two floors were hidden beneath, unknown even to the most trusted workers who had spent their lives there. For now, only Florence and Edric knew they existed.
The pathway was from the king's bedroom, a teleportation magic that led underground.
Florence bit her nails, the ones on her other hand already ragged. The only way she could enter was if she were assigned to clean it, but the King had servants for that.
The other way? To seduce him, give him a sleep-inducing potion, and search for the access. But most likely, the teleportation magic needed some sort of direct permission from the king himself.
As she walked, she heard dishes and plates crash behind her. She turned and saw the old butler with his black coat soaked in tea, and a footman sprawled on the floor with a tray on his chest.
The footman had likely came dashing from the hallway, and the butler had sprinted from the room, colliding into each other.
"His Majesty's tea," the footman whispered, sitting upright as more milk spilled.
The butler sighed, looking down at his soiled uniform.
"You," he pointed at Florence, who was standing nearby, watching the chaos.
He had checked her profile, she seemed clean. When Edric personally requested Florence to work in the castle, the butler had his doubts, but he kept them to himself. This was most likely short-term interest he had in her. Outcome of sheer boredom.
Striking red hair and refined features, she was unlike any woman Edric had taken interest in. But if the king himself had chosen her, there was no harm in assigning her the task.
"Head to the kitchen and bring another tray. You'll serve His Majesty and his guests," the butler ordered.
Perhaps it was his years of experience, his voice was firm, authoritative. He spoke like a noble.
Florence bowed lightly. "I'm afraid a low-ranking maid has no place handling His Majesty's pallet."
It wasn't a deep bow, but it was respectful, especially considering the butler's age.
"It's an emergency, young lady. You need to be quick."
He extended a hand to help the footman up.
"We mustn't waste His Majesty's time."
This time, Florence had no argument.
The man took the butler's hand, thanking him for the help.