Chapter 4 A Dull Knife for the Beast

Chapter 4 -Renee

They piled task upon task on me. Cleaning floors, washing clothes, scrubbing walls, anything to break me. But whenever the guards weren’t around, the maids wouldn’t let me lift a finger.

Some did my work quietly. Others tried to comfort me with small smiles or soft words. They meant well, but I knew what I had to do. I can’t stay here serving these monsters, waiting for the day they finally decide I am no longer useful and kill me.

I would rather die trying to escape than die on my knees. We were all beside the well, doing laundry together. I sat a little behind the others, staring at the water, thinking. Is there any way out of this misery that wouldn’t drag these innocent girls down with me?

Then, Lucy showed up; she hated me with a special kind of passion, and the feeling was mutual.

“Well, well, well...” she said mockingly as she approached. “Looks like someone’s getting the princess treatment again.”

The girls all froze, terrified; no one moved.

Lucy shouted. “Guards, take all the girls back inside. Lock them up. Not a single drop of water until she finishes all this herself.”

I felt heat rush to my face, rage boiling under my skin. But what could I do? Fight back and give her an excuse to kill one of the maids?

Lucy stepped closer and stroked my hair like I was a pet. “Let’s see how much energy the little princess has for her friends,” she whispered.

I sat still for a few seconds; I knew she was trying as much as possible to provoke me, and it worked.

I stood up sharply and shoved her back. She stumbled slightly, and my fangs came as I was unable to control the anger anymore.

She laughed out loud sarcastically. “Come on, princess. Do it; give me a reason to send you to your father.”

She wanted me to lose control. She wanted to use me as an excuse, a reason to punish the innocent.

I forced myself to sit back down. I wouldn’t give her what she wanted.

The guards took the girls away. I was left alone with a mountain of dirty laundry, some soaked in blood, others stiff with dried sweat: uniforms, bedsheets, and robes.

I hadn’t even washed more than a few clothes in my life.

Lucy walked back over, pulled my hair painfully tight, and whispered in my ear, “Do it fast, or I’ll tell Luca you’re slacking.”

Then she walked away. I stared at the pile and forced myself to begin. My hands were shaking. Every part of my body screamed with pain, and the cold water bit at my fingers like it wanted to snap them off.

I didn’t cry, but I could feel something breaking inside me.

Night came, and I still hadn’t finished half the laundry. At some point, I must have passed out on top of the heap. My arms were numb, and everything hurt.

“Princess....”

A hand touched my shoulder gently

I jerked awake, startled.

“Princess,” the voice said again.

I turned quickly and saw him.

“Collins?” I whispered.

He nodded, kneeling beside me. One of the younger guards. Sweet and innocent, loyal to my father, or at least, he used to be.

From under his coat, he pulled out a small loaf of bread and a flask of water. We crawled to the back of the well, hiding behind the stone wall.

I didn’t say a word. Just grabbed the bread and tore into it hurriedly. I hadn’t eaten properly in days; my body felt hollow. Halfway through, I started choking, and he quickly handed me the flask. I drank it like my life depended on it.

Then came the tears; I didn’t even realize I was crying until they fell down my cheeks. Over a loaf of stale bread from a guard.

I was a princess once. And now this was kindness; this was survival.

Collins watched me with pitiful eyes. His brows drew together as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached out and patted my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You don’t deserve this.”

I looked away. I couldn’t bear his pity. But still, it's good to see someone that cares about me.

“You’re still here?” I asked once I caught my breath.

He nodded. “They say their fight isn’t with us, just the royals. They offered us double pay if we stayed.”

I scoffed.

He looked down, clearly feeling guilty. “No offense to your father. He was a good man. Treated me well. But I have to take care of my mother.”

I gave him a small smile. “I understand, Collins. I’m not offended.”

He looked relieved.

“But they mustn’t see us together,” he added quickly, already standing. “They warned us strictly. No contact with you. Not even a word.”

“Collins....” I called softly as he was about to leave and reached out and grabbed his sleeve gently.

“Wait,” I whispered. “Can I borrow your short knife?”

“What do you need that for?”

“For protection,” I said, trying to sound calm. “I don’t feel safe, Collins. Please.”

He looked at me for a long time. “If they catch you with it, you’ll be tortured or worse.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I would rather die with something in my hand than on my knees.”

He hesitated, then slowly reached under his belt and pulled out a small knife, dull and worn, but still sharp enough to kill if used right.

“Here,” he said, placing it in my palm. “But you never saw me; we never spoke.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Collins.”

He gave me one last look before he left.

I quickly tucked the knife under my shirt, pressing it close to my skin. The metal felt cold, but it gave me hope.

I already knew where Luca slept from what the maids whispered when guards weren’t listening; he slept alone. I used to think Lucy was his mate, the way she hovered around him always. But apparently, she wasn’t even that, just another servant, drunk on borrowed power.

I had no chance going head-to-head with Luca. He was a trained warrior, a powerful one. I’d heard the stories. But I wasn’t looking for a fair fight.

I planned to enter his room at night, pretending to return freshly washed bedsheets. A simple errand, expected of a servant.

And once I was close enough, I would drive the knife into his chest while he slept.

Would it work? Honestly, I didn’t know. The chances weren’t good. But I would rather try and die than keep folding sheets and scrubbing blood off the floor for men who butchered my family.