[SILVER RAYNE WILLIAMS]

"Announcing His Majesty, Prince Roman Ace Veridian," the announcer's voice boomed, while my heart thudded behind its cage. "High Lord and Select, Lord Graydon Westwood Collins—"

He paused for a moment, a thick silence in the air.

Although I knew I was blocked behind the prince's frame, concealed behind his stature, I sensed the room's collective awareness of my presence.

The air was thick with tension. I noticed the tick in the announcer's jaw before he spoke again, drawling my name lazily.

"And Miss Silver Rayne—Williams."

The mundane tone of his voice hinted at his disdain for me, but my concerns extended beyond mere pronunciation; I could no longer pretend to be an invisible observer behind the prince's imposing frame.

My gaze rises slowly, my heart ramming against its chest. There are more people here than at my first breakfast with the royal family.

The first Fang I see are the rigid luxurious attires of the two other Lord Selects.

Lord Heil's broad shoulders take up the entire chair, and Lord Banes pretentious's gaze lingers on Lord Graydon for only a second, before focusing more on the prince.

He doesn't even spare me a look.

Hunter's eyes raise from the boredom that it seems he to be in, eyes locking with mine. He seemed surprised at my presence, brows drawing in slightly but they eventually softened.

Lord Valcon's gaze, however, remained inscrutable, darkened yet revealing nothing.

And then, my gaze found my mother's expression—It was frozen. As if she holds her breath at the sight of me. Her eyes are wide, suspended as if in time.

I do not know what to think when I see her. A wide range of emotions flood me. Thoughts of how I'd never see her again when I thought the prince was going to take my life resurfaced. At that moment, I would have given anything for one more chance with her.

But that was before the prince had revealed how the King sought to bury me. Like a dead body. Like I was never alive. Never breathing.

Had she known? My gaze switches back to Lord Valcon. I know— I just knew he had.

Seeing this, I decided looking at her wasn't helping me with my current predicament. My fear could not be jumbled up by questions of her loyalty.

I had more things to worry about.

My gaze returns to the floor. It is not only this reason I look away, I averted my gaze, not only to ease my nerves but also to avoid the unyielding gazes of The Royals that follow.

Lady Elise, The Queen and the King.

The King's eyes are grilled on me.

I know it because I feel them.

I feel them. Like hot coals of utter anger, annoyance, and disgust at the sight of me.

I do not know why I'm still breathing.

It does not help that the prince hasn't said a word to defend my presence yet. Instead, he moves toward the table and I have no choice but to follow quietly.

The silence in the room was deafening, to the point I felt if a pin could drop at the other end of the grand hall even my mortal ears would pick it up.

Lord Graydon bows before the king and Queen, "Your majesties."

"Lord Graydon," The Queen beams with an approving nod and I spot Lord Bane rolling his eyes.

The Highlord of the region of Collins acknowledged the queen's greeting with a nod, readjusting, his stature before briefly glancing at me, and then moving to his assigned seat. The last seat left and the farthest on the right, beside Lord Heils.

I watch all this frozen awkwardly near the grand banquet table. For there is no place set for me.

The prince takes a seat on the right-hand side of his father—the seat reserved exclusively for him. A guard promptly rushed to pull out his chair, eliciting a gleeful grin from Lord Bane as the prince sat beside him.

"Your majesty," he greeted eagerly.

The prince's response was a mere glance, while his mother, seated directly opposite him, lavished him with attention, expressing her delight at his presence for breakfast yet again, and how she hopes it becomes a habit now.

The Queen sat at the King's left, and to her left, the Lady Elise, Lord Valcon, Eden, and Hunter.

I, on the other hand, didn't know where to go.

There was no place reserved for me, no extra plate anywhere. I felt vulnerable standing there but thankfully the moment did not last for too long.

Three maids suddenly sprang quickly into action setting a plate and all manner of cutlery, moving towards an empty chair.

Gratefully, the spot chosen as they marched passed me was as far away from the royal family as possible— and then farther.

It was at least four seats away from Lord Graydon, the last seat on the right. And Farther from the Highborn as humanly possible—

Hallelujah.

"Your majesty," Lord Bane began as if he could care less that I was standing there, like a fish, waiting for the ladies to finish setting. "May I compliment your—"

"Victoria." A single word uttered by the prince silences the High Lord.

His eyebrows draw in and then mouths the word over as if confused or afraid to verbally reply. It was simply because he was too invested in himself to see what everyone else was seeing.

The Maid setting the plate had frozen, and her fingers were trembling slightly. Her gaze rose to the prince.

The hall has fallen back into the silence.

My eyebrows draw together. Did he just call her name?

Everyone's eyes are on the Prince. His sultry gaze lazily shifts off the plate a maid is setting for him and rises to the maid I assumed was Victoria, frozen midway whilst setting mine at the end of the table.

"Here," he states.

Lord Bane's gaze finally snaps back to the maid, and then to the Prince, in confusion, "Your majesty?" he echoes but the Tribrid's gaze never leaves the eyes of the maid.

"Have I stuttered?" he asks.

She shook her head vigorously, bowing repeatedly before hastily retreating with the other maids.

As I watched Victoria's frightened demeanor, I was surprised that the prince knew her name—an unexpected detail from a seemingly indifferent individual. A grace from my worries.

However, It is short-lived lived.

I can practically hear how hard the maid called Victoria is breathing when she quickly passes by me accompanied by the other two maids. It's erratic, and I know that emotion.

Fear.

I watch in shock as the maids move to Lord Bane's place beside the prince, Victoria, bows before the Lord before taking his already full plate, and the women switch the cutlery before Lord Bane's wide eyes.

They carry it back to the previous standing, setting the High Lords' food four seats away.

Hunter barely conceals a laugh, watching as if renewed from his boredom.

The prince's saltwater gaze shifts from the plate to Lord Bane.

A look is all takes for the Lord Select to clear his throat, and get up with whatever dignity his sore ego managed to retain, bowing again before the prince, pulling down at his royal attire, a flat smile on his face, but obedient, "As you wish, I only live to serve, my liege."

Lord Bane walks passed me, he maintains an heir of grace, but his eyes are harsh when he glances at me and his lips are thinly pressed, walking stiffly to the further parts of the hall.

His gaze fixes on the maids standing nearby. "Closer, you egrets," he grits.

Through the corner of my downcast gaze, I watch as they scramble to move his plate closer to Lord Graydon, filling the banquet hall with the clanking of cutlery once again.

"Miss."

The call of my name snaps me out of my daze, and my eyes meet those of the guard who has drawn out a seat for me beside the prince.

For a moment, I freeze, realizing that all eyes, except the prince's, have returned to me. I'm causing a spectacle at the King's breakfast.

My heart pounds as I scramble to my seat, the guard pushing me in.

The maids move in, and I feel my face heating up as everyone watches while my plate is filled. I simply stare as it fills, afraid to look anywhere else, feeling the weight of the King's gaze heavy on the side of my face.

I can barely breathe.

I risk a low glance in the direction of my mother, searching for any kind of emotion other than fear to feel. I notice her hand shaking as she sets her knife down, and the open palm she rests on the table curls into fists.

For a moment, I think she's nervous. She holds my gaze, and I hold hers. I can not read her. I am unsure of her part in all this.

I look away and stare at my food. All vast assortments and portions. I try to think of this and not the fact that I could be ambushed by an Arc Wolf in a millisecond and my intestines left hanging from the chandelier.

My downcast gaze slides to the prince when he calmly picks up a fork and begins to eat.

No word. No statement on my behalf. No clarifications. Good God. Not even a Don't Kill Her she's under my protection word to Pops over there.

God I was going to die. I'm so dead.

The prince eating is only a sign for everyone else to continue their meal but I— oh, not I. For I cannot move.

My hands are shaking. Trembling. Quaking. Call it what you will.

I'm afraid if I even attempt to lift a spoon or fork I'll embarrass myself in ways I would be far too dead to try and recover. Because the King will ensure I am. Gone and buried.

Buried.

Bury her, he said.

The words cause a shiver to travel down my spine.

What did that even mean? In the ground? Alive?

The King's eyes have never left me. That is the most scary part. Everyone is eating but He has not eaten at all.

His gaze has not shifted from the side of my face.  I feel the rough sting of his eyes, poisoned and dark like daggers against my skin.

I can only imagine what was going through that mind.

All the ways to splatter my blood across the hall.  All the ways to bury me.

The thought had my heart galloping within me.

He wanted me gone, like gone-gone. Dead, according to the prince, and yet, against the orders of the King of Fang, here I am, breathing, alive, seated at his table, at the right hand of his chosen heir, disrupting his breakfast, eating his food.

Seated once again at the table of Kings.

My lips tremble. Goosebumps line my skin.

"My Prince," Lord Bane calls from across the table's end, seemingly oblivious to the tension that envelops the room.

The Prince shifts slightly, his saltwater gaze lifting to Lord Select, the only indication he was listening.

Still, Lord Bane's voice falters for an alarming second.

"I-I was just discussing with His Majesty the progress made on the first day of the trial," he says.

He looks toward the King, "I wish to ensure his majesty, that the Kingdom's affairs are in most capable hands."

"I concur," Lord Heil chimes in, sounding out of place, echoing Lord Bane.

Lord Graydon remains silent. I feel his eyes watching, however.

"Also, I—"

"Human," The King's growl cuts through the air, interrupting the High Lord.

I stiffen, feeling as though my bones have turned to ice.

My heart rattles at the spite in his voice, the animosity in his tone, to the point where even Lord Bane's eyes dart to mine as if finally realizing something is amiss.

I can hear my own breathing, but I dare not look at the King. I am frozen, like a statue.

"Your Majesty please, she is my daughter!—" My mother blurts but suddenly falls silent.

My gaze flickers, and I see Lord Valcon's hand clamp down on her wrist, his gaze subtly shifting in her direction.

Her breath catches at his action, her eyes fixed on his hand. Then, her gaze meets mine, and my heart thuds.

She purses her lips, pulling her hand away from Lord Valcon's grip.

"Your Majesty, whatever offense my daughter has committed," she begins, "I'll take the blame and the punishment for her. She is not supposed to be here, a simple mistake, and I-I will personally," a hand rests over her heart, "ensure that she is kept in her proper place."

She talks elegantly and her tone is confident, but she holds a breath after the statement, and her eyes shift to mine in desperation.

The King's gaze momentarily shifts to hers, holding it for a fleeting moment.

It's a short exchange, revealing nothing. But even I understand that my mother's pleas for my life are futile.

His gaze snaps back to me, and mine retreat to my plate, where they freeze and I find myself unable to look away. I'm stuck. I'm doomed. I'm dead.

I'm so dead. The prince is of no help at all. Useless.

"You haven't even made a dent," The King spits, his tone dripping with disdain.

My eyebrows arch slightly at his statement, but I keep my eyes on my plate.

"I know human hunger is second only to that of wolves," he sneers, his words slicing through the air like daggers, "So tell me, Human, does the royal fare not meet your expectations?"

It's a jab, but not the one I expected.

My gaze trails to him. It's hardened and cold, and I finally realize where the Prince gets his detached demeanor from.

The King.

There's a slight difference in his demeanor from his son.

Because in his eyes I can actually see the hate in them, the deep, dark, poisonous emotion, the threat. But it's shrouded in a dead, scornful look.

It takes my breath away, and I find myself unable to speak. I forget how to talk.

"She has ample time to adjust," The Prince replies calmly. "I'll ensure it."

The King's gaze snaps to his son and a fork drops. Lady Elise's fork drops.

It's because that sentence carries weight.

It means I'm here to stay. It means there will be many more breakfasts, lunches, and dinners like these that I'll experience.

He's telling his father that I'm here to stay.

Silence fills the table. Another deafening silence.

My throat feels dry, but I know I must speak. Summoning whatever courage I have to keep me seated and not running for my life, I plaster a smile on my face.

"On the contrary, Your Majesty," I begin, my voice shaky. Tiny even.

"The food is just so..." My gaze trails to the display of food.

I know he sees me as inadequate. I must play the part. "Wonderful, I am embarrassed to admit I don't even know where to begin," I muster a nervous chuckle.

"I suggest the bacon," Hunter pipes up. When my eyes meet him, he offers me a small smile, "It's crispy."

He takes a piece and devours it.

"Yes, the bacon is utterly delicious," Lord Heil echoes in response nodding along with the boy, and the two grin as if it is a joke amongst wolves.

I look between them, a practiced smile on my face to hide that I am a jittery mess.

"Ah," I reply, "then I must try a piece.."

I look down at my plate, bidding myself to grab a fork. I remain as still as I can, cutting off a piece and tasting it. I chew and nod as the flavors set in.

In truth it is amazing.

"It is," I smile at him, genuinely surprised, even though I have no time to truly savor the food.

Hunters grin widens at my statement. And his eyes brighten. He looks down at his plate, and his smile remains.

The King grunts at this, but his eyes retreat to his food, as the Queen's hand rests on his arm, and she clears her throat. He finally eats.

I breathe.

•|•|•Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

I know the last update was short but I must admit I have been struggling the past few weeks. I caught a bit of the Flu and generally had so much work to do.

I do wish to recover from that this week, so for my patrons, I will be posting a chapter tomorrow, or two if you're lucky.

I'll do a lot of writing this week. Just because I will not be going in for work, and I'll have a bit more time to myself.

I'm not saying I'll be writing 24/7 lol, I do need a break, but there will be updates for all my books this week.

Please leave a comment and vote if you're enjoying the book! Thanks for all the new comments and new readers. I read each one! •|•|•