Defect of Servitude [Book #1]

?Eight: The Warriors

A woman with pin-straight, fire-red hair that ended at her collarbones stood next to Harley. She looked child-sized, her skin a translucent white reminiscent of Andrea's. But her proportions didn't detract from the fierce determination on her face, mirroring Draven's intense expression. They all held the same protective stance around me, and a knot tightened in my stomach. Why was I the one being so heavily guarded? Why was I the only one here who seemed to need protection?

Terror welled up inside me, silencing my questions. No one spoke; the only sounds were the three explosions that rattled the manor and the relentless blaring of the siren. Everything else was eerily quiet. I didn't even think anyone but me was breathing.

It felt like days before the alarm finally ceased, replaced by a familiar knocking pattern on the other side of the wall. Draven maneuvered the chains and locks, then pushed open the door. He stepped out first, followed by Harley and the woman. A hand reached out to me, and as I took it, I was again pulled into Becca's arms. This time, she enveloped me in a crushing hug, patting my hair soothingly.

I noticed the other woman who carried me holding her fingers to her ear, speaking softly to the air. "We have her. She's safe. He didn't get her. Yes, ma'am."

The realization hit me like a cold wave: the "her" she referred to was me. I pushed Becca away, my heart racing. "What happened? Who didn't get me?"

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to meet before this. My name is Desiree." She extended her hand, and without thinking to deny her gesture, I gingerly placed mine in hers, marveling at her smooth complexion. "I'm afraid I'm not allowed to answer those questions for you. However, the Queen has requested that I take you to her. I'm sure you'll be able to ask her anything on your mind. Please, if you'll follow me?"

Nodding, I trailed behind her as she returned to Nan's workspace. The room was empty, and the papers were in more disarray than usual, hinting at the situation's urgency. Becca followed closely, and Draven brought up the rear, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow as if assessing every corner for potential threats.

When Desiree opened the door to the corridor, a gasp escaped my lips, filling the silence with my rising apprehension.

Dust hung thick in the air, and fallen bodies littered the floor, their blood pooling in a multitude of shades. I couldn't discern allies from enemies, and dread gripped my heart. Yet, paradoxically, the sight ignited something primal within me. My muscles tensed as if preparing for a fight, even though I had no idea where that instinct came from.

Becca's hand rested lightly on my shoulder. "We fought well, I promise. We don't have many wounded, and significantly fewer of ours fell. Breathe, Maddie. You're safe."

Despite her reassurance, a whimper escaped my lips—one I hadn't even realized I was holding back. "This was because of me?"

My voice trembled. Becca didn't meet my gaze, and shame filled my chest, constricting my breath even further. But then Desiree stepped in, her tone firm yet gentle. "No. This was not because of you. This resulted from a feud that existed long before you did."

We walked down the corridor I had been forbidden to enter without an invitation—the Master's quarters. The artwork adorning the walls was exquisite, each piece whispering of royalty. Priceless heirlooms and ancient antiques were interspersed between the doors, creating an atmosphere of grandeur. Only a few plaques labeled the doors, indicating studies rather than living spaces. Desiree paused outside a mahogany door.

When she opened the door to the Queen's study, an invisible force slammed into me as if I had run headfirst into a brick wall. A startled squeal escaped my lips, and my breath caught in my throat. A tall man with dark, almost black eyes loomed over me, his hand clenching around my airway.