The Beast Within

A King's Game: Chapter Five

Dinner found me in a foul mood.

It had been a taxing day after everything that happened, and I had little patience for whatever other foul plots or mischief the castle had in store.

The king had not been seen since breakfast, and returned from his hunt only an hour before the meal was served. I noted that he gave his son no greeting when he arrived, but he did kiss the hands of his brides. I hadn't seen the twins since breakfast either, and briefly pondered what they had done with their day.

I was surprised the prince joined the hall for dinner, having assumed that after his brush with death he would have been ordered to remain in bed for the rest of the day and night. But the prince, of course, took orders from no one, and was most likely attending out of a wicked desire to tell his father what happened in the courtyard that morning—or his version of the events.

I could only hope the king would allow me the opportunity to share my side of the story.

The boy was sour-faced and petulantly flicking peas at the servants. Every so often I heard him whining about the pain in his body, how it hurt to walk and sit and talk and eat. 

"My legs are too wobbly to hold me. My skin is on fire. My head aches from all the noise. My chest is caving in..."

Indeed, he looked exhausted, like it took the last of his energy just to be alive.

His father ignored every complaint.

The court was engaged in their usual grotesque feasting, though I noted more than a few suspicious glances cast in my direction. The prince had spread his lies quickly, but I wondered if any of the servants who were present in the kitchen spoke a word on my behalf.

Some form of retribution was coming my way, be it a stern word or physical pain, so I spent most of the meal in anxious silence.

A young servant tripped over the purposefully outstretched foot of a courtier, who laughed as the girl tumbled and spilled her platter of food across the floor. The servant appeared unfazed by the mistreatment and scrambled to clear the mess, but as she did so several hands reached over to pinch her bottom. By the time the poor woman ran from the hall her face was red and teary, and I knew she would seek a corner in which to cower and sob.

I had done nothing to comfort her, but sat and ate among monsters, and that did not help the dread in my heart. I should have gone after her and apologized. I should have told her not everyone in the hall was the same.

Instead, I sat as if tied to my chair, and stared at my dinner companions with contempt.

They ate several times their fill and wasted even more. Perfectly good food was carelessly tossed to the ground or emptied from a stomach into a bucket.

Did everyone in the kingdom enjoy such extravagant meals? Were the servants secretly feasting out of view of the nobles? Did the people who lived under the king's rule share in the spoils of court life—

Or were there families that starved while their "betters" gorged and vomited? Were there children who went to bed hungry, even after their parents labored for long hours hunting and harvesting?

I knew no one in the hall had ever given such questions a moment of consideration.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the king lean over to his son. The prince was glaring at me as his mouth moved in a whisper. The king frowned and turned to me.

"I heard an unpleasant rumor upon my return home. At first, I dismissed it as a frivolous scandal, but now my son tells me you attempted to murder him in the garden. Is this true?"