Circe's POV
The servant quarters were worse than I expected.
The air was thick with the scent of sweat, damp wood, and something sour that clung to the stone walls. Cramped, cold, and suffocating, it was nothing like the lavish chambers I had once known.
The moment I was pushed inside, a tall, sharp-faced woman stood waiting. Her gaze swept over me with pure disdain, as if she could smell the defiance on me.
"You're the new girl," she sneered. "His Majesty seems to have taken an interest in you, but that doesn't mean you'll be treated any differently here."
I said nothing.
She smirked at my silence, then tossed a bundle of fabric into my arms. "Get changed. You work now."
I looked down at the cloth in my hands rags. Thin, worn, and meant to humiliate.
She didn't wait for me to protest. "The King wants you later, but you'll start earning your keep now. The floors need scrubbing."
Scrubbing.
I had never scrubbed a floor in my life.
I clenched my jaw but dropped to my knees, gripping the old cloth they had given me. I knew the moment I hesitated, she'd enjoy making this harder for me.
The first swipe across the floor did nothing.
I tried again, harder.
Still nothing.
Damn it.
"Useless," the woman muttered before walking off.
I glared at her back, my body screaming in exhaustion, my stomach twisting in frustration.
I needed to get out of here. I was covered in bandages and soon enough I may faint.
Then a familiar voice.
"You're doing it wrong."
I snapped my head up. Ade.
She knelt beside me, her hands grabbing another cloth like she had always belonged here.
I stared at her, shocked. "How did you get in?"
Ade smirked. "I have my ways."
I narrowed my eyes. "You followed me."
Her expression softened. "I have sworn to follow you even if you are stubborn."
I frowned. "Why?"
She hesitated, then leaned closer. "Because I was from your father's pack. I was one of your maids but I was once among the orphans your mother took under her wing."
My chest tightened.
"I admired you, Circe," she continued. "You never saw me, but I saw you. And I made a vow that if I ever got the chance, I would protect you, save you, do anything I could. Be your guardian angel, as respect to your mother."
I swallowed, not knowing what to say.
Tears already started filling my eyes and she smiled.
She showed me how to scrub the floor properly, making the task somewhat bearable.
But before I could get used to it, a girl passing by kicked my bucket over, spilling the dirty water.
I shot up so fast that Ade barely had time to hold me back.
I wanted to kill her.
The girl smirked before sauntering away.
"Not worth it," Ade muttered.
I exhaled sharply and forced myself to calm down.
After what felt like hours of work, I was finally given time to bathe.
The water was lukewarm, but it was a relief. I scrubbed off the filth from the dungeons, the blood from my wounds, and let the exhaustion pull at me.
I had barely sat down to rest when a servant stormed in.
"The King wants you in his quarters."
I stiffened.
So soon?
Ade's expression darkened, but I forced myself to stand.
I wouldn't go in there weak.
If Minerva thought I would break easily, he was wrong.
***
The walk to his quarters was long, the halls stretching endlessly before me. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across the stone walls, making the place feel colder than it already was. I wasn't afraid. I had grown up surrounded by ruthless men, learned how to survive in a world built to break people like me.
But as I reached the heavy wooden doors, a strange sensation settled in my gut.
Anticipation. Wariness. Something else.
A guard opened the doors without a word, ushering me in before stepping back and sealing them behind me.
I was alone with him.
Minerva sat in a chair near the fireplace, one leg draped over the other, his posture relaxed. Too relaxed.
He looked at me like he was amused, as if he were waiting for me to make a mistake.
"Ah," he drawled, his voice smooth but sharp. "You're finally here."
I said nothing, my expression carefully blank.
Minerva leaned forward slightly, studying me. "You seem calmer than before."
I lifted my chin. "Would you rather I beg?"
He smirked. "No. That would be too easy."
His words brushed against something deep inside me, something I refused to name.
Minerva exuded power effortlessly, the kind that demanded submission without needing to ask for it. I hated that about him.
Hated that I was standing here, forced to serve him.
"Wine," he said lazily, motioning toward the table. "Pour me a glass."
I hesitated for half a second before moving toward the golden decanter. My fingers curled around the glass, and I poured slowly, deliberately, so as not to spill.
He watched me the entire time.
Like I was something to be studied.
I set the glass before him.
Minerva picked it up, swirling the liquid inside before taking a slow sip. He hummed as he drank, then gestured toward the tray. "Fruit."
I reached for it, but as soon as I did, he grabbed my wrist.
The sudden contact sent a strange pulse through my body.
It was probably the mate bond. The one I did not want to think about. To ignore just as he did.
His fingers tightened, his thumb grazing the inside of my wrist almost absently. His expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Why do you feel… familiar?"
I stiffened, forcing my pulse to steady, my breathing to remain even.
I couldn't let him suspect anything.
I wasn't Circe. Not here. Not in this place.
I was Rivera. A nobody. A servant.
My lips parted, my voice steady. "I don't know what you mean, Alpha."
His grip didn't loosen. His silver eyes bored into me, as if searching for something just out of reach. My skin burned where he touched me, not from heat, but from something far more dangerous. Recognition.
For a terrifying moment, I thought he knew.
That he could somehow feel the bond, just as I did.
But then—his expression flickered, just barely, and he released me as if he had lost interest.
"Strange," he murmured, leaning back into his chair. He picked up his glass of wine and took a slow sip, his eyes still on me. Still watching.
I forced myself to move, to act as if the moment hadn't unsettled me. I picked up a piece of fruit from the tray and placed it before him, keeping my posture neutral.
He smirked slightly, as if amused. I hated that look.
"You're very obedient," he noted. "Unusual for someone with fire in their eyes."
I didn't reply.
He tilted his head, waiting. "Nothing to say, Rivera?"
I clenched my fists beneath the table. "What would you like me to say, Alpha?"
His smirk deepened. He was playing with me.
Testing me.
I couldn't let him win.
Minerva leaned forward, resting his elbow on the armrest. "Tell me, Rivera… do you enjoy serving?"
The question was laced with something unspoken. A test, another trap, another way for him to peel back my mask and find the truth buried beneath it.
I met his gaze. "I enjoy being alive."
That seemed to amuse him.
For a long, stretched-out moment, he said nothing.
Then he gestured lazily toward the door. "You may go."
I didn't waste a second.
I turned sharply, heading straight for the door, keeping my steps controlled. But before I reached it, his voice stopped me one last time.
"I'll be seeing you again, Rivera."
A statement. Not a question.
I pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, only breathing when I was free of his presence.