Chapter 5: Amused

Chapter 5: Amused

"My King..." The manor fell into a suffocating silence as everyone bowed low, trembling under the tyrant's presence. Rosalind curtsied deeply as her eyes lowered in a show of submission that seemed to satisfy Alaric. His cold gaze swept over her before moving through the room, inspecting the others with a detached indifference.

Amaris, however, remained frozen in place. Her wide hazel eyes locked on the king in disbelief. She could barely comprehend the reality before her—King Alaric, standing not twenty feet away, with every detail matching the book's description. The two-colored eyes, one dark, the other piercing blue, and the unmistakable scar crossing his blue eye, a reminder of his brutal past. 

It's really him... she thought, her mind struggling to keep pace with the unfolding scene.

Alaric's gaze shifted and landed squarely on her. His brow furrowed, and a scoff escaped his lips. "Is something the matter with your knees?" he asked sternly, his voice cold and commanding.

In an instant, one of his soldiers stepped forward, his spear pointed directly at Amaris, ready to strike. The sharpness of the blade so close made her heart skip a beat, and she gasped, her body reacting on pure instinct. She dropped into an awkward curtsy, lowering herself as quickly as possible, though the motion was clumsy in her panic.

The tension in the room grew thick as Alaric studied her with a piercing gaze, his mismatched eyes narrowing ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, Amaris wondered if he could somehow see through her—through her confusion, her disbelief, her very identity. But then his attention moved on as the threat was dismissed, and the soldier lowered his spear.

She exhaled shakily, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mind was racing. She had read about him, absorbed every word about his cruelty, but nothing had prepared her for the terror of standing in his presence. The king had come, and his gaze had found her—something she wished more than ever had never happened.

"From now on, the Beaumont estate will be under the stewardship of the palace. Everyone who works here will now serve me, including the former duke's family, who shall be subject to further investigation," Alaric declared, his voice cold and unwavering as he turned his back to the room. "Bring her," he added sharply.

Without a moment's hesitation, the king's guards moved, seizing Rosalind roughly by the arms and dragging her to her feet from her deep curtsy. The force with which they handled her caused her to stumble, and Amaris felt something snap inside her. Panic flooded her senses, but another instinct—one far more fierce and protective—overrode it. Her body acted before her mind could stop it.

"Be gentle with her!" she shouted, her voice trembling with urgency. The sudden outburst startled everyone in the room, freezing them in place. Alaric stopped mid-step, his back still to her as he half-turned as his eyes narrowed in quiet surprise. The silence was deafening. Rosalind's wide-eyed gaze shot to Amaris, and even the guards seemed momentarily unsure of how to proceed.

Alaric's mismatched eyes bore into her, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world was holding its breath.

"Take her as well," the king suddenly commanded, his tone betraying no emotion.

"What?!" Amaris' heart dropped, her panic doubling as the soldiers' hands gripped her arms tightly, dragging her forward. She thrashed instinctively, trying to pull away, but their grip was unrelenting. "Wait—no, this isn't—!" Her words faltered as fear overwhelmed her. Her mind raced, screaming that this was all wrong, that she wasn't meant to be a part of this world, that she wasn't Amaris—but none of it mattered.

Alaric didn't spare her another glance as he strode toward the door as the soldiers roughly guided both Rosalind and Amaris behind him. She could feel her pulse hammering in her ears, her breaths shallow and rapid as she was dragged from the only place she had yet known in this strange world.

The guards shoved Amaris and Rosalind into the carriage with little care, and Amaris stumbled, hitting her knees hard on the wooden floor. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, rushing to help Rosalind up as well. They both sat down on the opposite side, facing the king. The confined space felt suffocating, especially under the weight of Alaric's unwavering stare.

He sat still, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever, his mismatched eyes—one dark, the other blue—fixing themselves on Rosalind with an intensity that made her visibly shrink. She fidgeted under his gaze, her hands clutching her gown as though the fabric itself could shield her from his scrutiny.

Amaris, though trying to steady her breathing, could feel the tension filling the air like a thick fog. Alaric hadn't spoken a word since they were thrown into the carriage, and his silence felt like an unspoken judgment. She could see Rosalind growing more uncomfortable by the second while her eyes darted nervously to the floor, avoiding Alaric's penetrating gaze.

The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels against the cobbled road seemed the only thing breaking the silence. Amaris desperately wanted to speak—to question what was happening, to beg for an explanation—but the weight of the moment, combined with the chilling presence of the king, kept her paralyzed.

Finally, Alaric spoke in his low and deliberate voice. "You are the daughter of Duke Beaumont." It wasn't a question. His tone left no room for denial.

Rosalind nodded stiffly, her throat too tight to form words. Amaris felt her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of what was about to unfold but painfully aware that they were both now at the mercy of this man—this king—who held power over everything.

Alaric's voice, unexpectedly soft, broke the heavy silence inside the carriage. "Do you think your father is innocent?" he asked, his tone almost gentle, which immediately set Amaris on edge.

She remembered this exact moment from the book, where Alaric—despite his cold, tyrannical nature—began to fall for Rosalind's beauty. It was a twist that had always frustrated her. As much as Alaric tried to maintain his ruthless demeanor, there was an unspoken pull towards Rosalind that even he couldn't fully resist.

Rosalind trembled and raised her head just slightly as confusion flickered across her face. She wasn't sure how to respond. "My father... he is an honorable man," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, though there was strength in her words. "He would never steal from the kingdom. Someone must have framed him."

Amaris, who had stayed quiet until now, clenched her fists. She could feel the tension building in the small space, and her instincts screamed at her to say something—to intervene before things spiraled further. But what could she say? She wasn't supposed to be here, and yet, here she was, witnessing a scene she had only read about in the comfort of her own world.

Alaric's eyes didn't leave Rosalind as he leaned forward slightly, studying her face. His scarred, heterochromatic eyes held something unreadable—something dangerous. Amaris recognized it too well from the book. It was the moment where the king's heart began to betray him, where Rosalind's beauty and vulnerability started to break through his hardened exterior.

"Is that what you truly believe?" Alaric murmured, his gaze softening just a fraction. "That your father was betrayed?"

Amaris' heart pounded. She knew how this would go, and she dreaded it. She had hated how Rosalind's innocence had caught Alaric's attention. 

But unbeknownst to Amaris, Alaric flinched when his gaze shifted to her. Unlike Rosalind's soft, pleading expression, Amaris looked at him with a hint of hatred. It was sharp, unyielding, and utterly confusing. 

How could a mere servant, a handmaiden, dare to look at a king with such defiance?

It intrigued him.

For a moment, Alaric's amusement flickered in his mismatched eyes. He leaned back in his seat letting his lips curl into a quiet, bemused chuckle. The sound, though subtle, startled both women.

"Curious," he murmured with his eyes still on Amaris. He didn't say more, but the way his gaze lingered on her unnerved her.