Defect of Servitude [Book #1]

"We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
-Joseph Campbell

A loud thud echoed through the room, the impact stealing the wind from my lungs. Yet, there the Prince stood, that cocky smile still in place, even with a split lip and a swollen eye. Every hit I managed to land on him felt like a hollow victory as he retaliated with equal ferocity. Gritting my teeth, I forced my legs to lift me up, the quiet whispers in the back of my mind growing louder, echoing my frustration.

I wished I had the opportunity to watch him fight, to study every detail. He always seemed a step ahead, even when I feigned an attack. His movements were fluid, almost like liquid, flowing gracefully from centuries of practice. Each action was instinctive, a reflex honed by time. I knew I looked like an uncoordinated child next to him, but still, my hits drew blood. I even managed to pin him for a fleeting moment—a victory, albeit a minor one.

"Are you two getting tired? Just going to circle each other the rest of the day?" Draven's voice broke through my focus, his half-hearted insults punctuating the tension in the air.

Harley and Draven were set to practice with an array of weapons, an assortment I hadn't even known existed. They paused, realizing I wasn't going to give up. The bets they placed fueled my determination; I wanted nothing more than to have the prince sprawled beneath me, the thought sending a rush of warmth to my cheeks.

Jaxon's eyes sparkled with excitement, his entire being radiating enjoyment. I suspected he didn't visit the gym as often as he wished. Then it happened—our eyes locked, and our world faded. His gaze was raw and unfiltered, a direct line to my soul. A flutter in my heart sparked a memory I thought I knew intimately.

As he advanced, I stumbled backward, my vision blurring between the past and the present. The full weight of his pure and intense presence sent my mind spiraling. At that moment, I was thrust back into my former self, navigating the dimly lit halls of the Academy. Each accidental connection with another's gaze deepened my disappointment, the slight ache of sadness pulling me lower with every failure to be acknowledged.

Just when I thought I would give up, there he was—a beautiful man in a tailored gray suit, speaking softly to one of the headmasters. The details of his figure were often a blur in my memory, but this time, clarity washed over me. I saw the light stubble peppering his chin and the shade of hunter green that lingered in my thoughts since our collision.

Desperate for recognition, I stared, the stagnant air burning my eyes as I refused to blink. When the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile, joy soared through me, igniting hope. It was him—it had always been him.

The ringing in my ears drowned out the chaos around us while my heart threatened to escape my chest. But my body remained rooted, caught between recognition and instinct even in this storm of emotions. I was still standing, still in a fighting stance, though my control felt utterly lost.

Jaxon advanced toward me, unaware that my entire past had just crashed down in a matter of seconds. He struck out with his palm, aiming to unbalance me, likely expecting me to block it as I had before. But this time, I didn't.

The crack reverberated through the room, a jarring impact that felt like my bones were liquefying. I crumpled to the floor, a heap of exhausted muscles and confusion. As the sound faded, Harley shouted my name, but I couldn't register why my legs refused to lift me up. All I could feel was Jaxon pinning me down, his weight pressing me into the mat.

"She shouldn't move! I didn't mean to strike her that hard, and how she collapsed makes me nervous." His voice was frantic as he tried to hold me still, but my body shook violently as if it were on the verge of shattering into pieces.

"What happened?! Even from across the room, I could smell the sudden drop of adrenaline in her! It's like her body just shut down!" Harley's voice was a blur, poking and prodding at me in a way that felt entirely uncomfortable. But I couldn't find my vocal cords. I was trapped in a storm of memories, unable to tell them I was fine—that it was just another flashback warping my existence here.

As my eyes fluttered shut, the world around me dimmed. My vision faded to black, and I surrendered to the darkness.

The gentle swaying motion of being carried pulled me from the darkness. The iron strength of his arms cradled me, and the familiar scent of his skin wrapped around me, making my already dizzy head spin further. I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, desperate to stay quiet, unwilling to revisit those memories.

Jaxon's pace was deliberate; he hoped I would wake before we reached his destination. I didn't think I could handle that conversation. Instead, I focused on his face—set in stone, a mask of determination mixed with concern. I studied the minor cuts and bruises on his skin, marveling at how they slowly faded away. I was so captivated that I didn't realize I had opened my eyes fully until it was too late.

"Oh! You're awake!" He tightened his grip around me, his mouth breaking into that radiant smile that could warm me to my core. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes, but I held them back. "Are you in pain? Can I help?" he asked, worry etching his features.Something compelled me, and I reached my fingers up to trace the contours of his face, moving slowly from his temple to his chin. I wanted to commit every detail to memory, refusing to let my mind be caught off guard like that again.

"It was you all along," I whispered, barely audible.

He looked at me with confusion and concern, trying to coax me into explaining. But I couldn't bring myself to speak. I wouldn't even chance opening my eyes to look at him again. Discussing what had happened was beyond me—I couldn't open myself up to him or anyone.

After hours of him trying to coax my thoughts out of me as I lay in the hospital bed once again, he finally left when a nurse entered, informing him that the Queen was looking for him.

Sitting alone in a haze of sterile bleach, I stared at the streaked white wall, feeling myself slip into a numbing void—a place I thought I had left behind when I learned I could defend myself. I had never considered the weight of emotional pain, how it could ripple through my heart and paralyze my lungs, proving infinitely worse than broken bones or torn flesh. I never imagined I would feel this again.

Unblinking, I relived every moment someone tore into my skin, comparing it to the gaping rip in my heart. My only distraction came with a knock at the door. Turning my dry eyes toward the sound, I found Draven standing there, uncertainty written across his face. I tried to muster an encouraging smile, but the concern etched into his features turned it into a grimace.

"You probably need rest, but the Queen asked me to check on you. I also have an important question," he said, hesitating before approaching. He gently sat down on the bed, raising his hand as if to comfort me, then thought better of it and placed it back in his lap.

"I don't know what made you lose focus, and I won't ask. You must be going through so much, and I hate to add to your thoughts." His eyes studied my face, causing me to shift uncomfortably under the sheets. It was as if he was trying to read my very being through my gaze.

"You fight so well. Your decisions are quick and precise. I'd bet that side by side, you'd give your mother a run for her money. I fought beside her many times—she was quick, but I think you're smarter. More in control. We need that."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, his gaze lingering, still refusing to break away. He reached for my hand, enveloping it in a warm embrace. "I want you on my team. I want you to become a Trapper and part of the guard. Both the Queen and Desiree agree that you could do us a lot of good with some training."

Silence hung heavily in the room. I took a long moment to gather my thoughts, noticing how Draven's hand remained firmly clasped around mine, his grip steady. "A Trapper. That group stops those who go through the portals, right?"

He nodded, his long hair grazing his shoulders with the movement. I sighed, shaking off his hand as if it were a burden I couldn't bear. "Draven, I'd love to help, but I can't think about this now. You said you didn't know what stole my focus, but I need you to understand that it's still lost. I'll think about it, but I just need to be alone for now."

His posture stiffened, anger flickering in his eyes for the briefest moment. But then, with a slight shake of his head, he leaned down, pressing his lips lightly to the top of my forehead."I know your thoughts are tangled right now, but if you ever need a friend to listen, I'm here," he said, his voice steady. "I didn't make a good effort to be nice when you first arrived; that was my baggage. You're a fun person, Maddie, and if I can help, I will."

Spinning on his heel, Draven left the room in a blur of speed, leaving no time for me to respond to his unsettling behavior. Not that I should be focused on that—I needed to consider his words. A new job offer, a chance to join the guard, and possibly leaving the manor to explore other places. Did they really believe I could be an asset rather than a hindrance? Was this all Draven's idea?

Those thoughts spun endlessly in my mind before I spiraled into another memory, one illuminated by Jaxon's face. I spent most of the evening caught in a relentless tide of memories, each drawing me closer to a numbing abyss that threatened to swallow me whole.

I slipped. The final memory was crystal clear—every detail vivid and unyielding. I found myself being led down the familiar, sterile hallway, chains pulling my arms taut against my ribs. It was one of those macabre days when my handler's sadism was particularly pronounced. I was about to experience one of those rare moments of light that felt so pure I believed I might be blinded or my heart would simply cease from joy.

With my head lowered, I peeked through the corners of my eyes. The headmaster stood clad in a suit too cheap to look good, a narcissistic smirk plastered across his face. Panic constricted my chest as I realized the space next to him was empty. He was supposed to be there on the third day of the month.

I tried to slow my gait, lingering for a moment before I was shoved harshly around the corner, the headmaster disappearing from my view. I never saw that man again. In that instant, my brief moments of joy vanished forever. It was the first time I had to surrender to the emptiness within, shielding myself from the invisible enemy of emotional pain.

As the memory faded, the ache in my chest felt fresh, as if it had occurred only yesterday rather than years ago. I questioned whether I could allow my willpower to slip, letting the void consume me just one more time to escape this relentless torment.

A harsh knock interrupted my thoughts as the door slammed open. Becca stalked in, a vibrant purple streak trailing behind her like a comet's tail. "I'm going to murder those boys in cold blood. Mark my words!" she declared, wagging her finger dramatically as she settled into the chair where Draven had just sat.

My smile emerged weakly, the corners of my lips twitching in response to her fiery entrance. I could feel its inauthenticity, a mask I couldn't quite adjust.

Becca stared at me intently, then leaned against the bed to sit beside me. Her fingers swept gently through my hair, a soothing motion that made me close my eyes. I let the rhythm of her even breathing wash over me, hoping she would let me drift off to sleep.

"Maddie," she said, her voice low and laced with concern. "Something is wrong. I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but your eyes haven't held this sadness since your first week here. I'm worried."

Her words struck me, making me flinch. "Draven asked me to take my mother's position and become a Trapper," I replied, shrugging my shoulders as if its weight didn't matter. But the familiar hole in my chest began to crack open again, guilt tearing at me. I was a terrible liar. "That's not the problem," I said.

She pulled me closer, her warmth a comforting anchor. "I'm listening. I won't interrupt, and I won't even try to help unless you want me to. Something happened between you and the Prince, didn't it?"

Taking a shaky breath, I nodded. "Do you remember that story I told you? The one about my happiest memories in the Academy?"

She nodded again, her gaze steady and encouraging.

"My memory wasn't as clear as I thought it was. That man was the Prince. He was always in the halls of the Academy, always catching my eye, always trying to make me smile back."

The tears I had been holding back finally spilled over, and I let them flow. "What am I supposed to do with the knowledge that the man who was my lifeline after being taken—the one who sparked my first good feelings during that torture—is my Master? My employer? The freaking Prince and future King of all supernatural beings!"

A considerable breath escaped my lungs, and I was lighter, sharing the burden piling up inside me. "I just don't know what to feel, Becca. Someone had to have done something to make me forget it was him. Everything is just too much. Before I came here, I thought I was strong enough to handle anything. That whatever my Master would throw at me, I could endure it with gritted teeth. But this... this is a never-ending realization that everything I thought about myself and my past was a lie."

"Madelyn," Becca said, her voice softening. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through so much. I know it will only worsen, but remember, you have people now. You have me, Harley, and Draven. Even Des and Annie would be there for you. You are not alone. While that doesn't lighten your load, you don't have to carry it alone."

She pulled back to meet my gaze, her eyes filled with sincerity. The warmth of her words seeped into my heart. "As for what you should do or feel about the Prince... don't try to fix it. That's something for another day. You both need to discuss it. I think you deserve answers from him."Her smile lit up the dim room, and the sudden clap of her hands made me jump.

"Now, what do you say we have a little slumber party?" Becca exclaimed, her energy infectious. Within a second, she had her phone to her ear. "Evan? Hi! Listen, I need you to pull some strings and get me some junk food. The good stuff, not that healthy crap that always tries to pass for junk food!"

As I settled against her side, the room filled with laughter and warmth. The scent of snacks—salty, sweet, and undeniably indulgent—drifted through the air. The excitement buzzed around us, wrapping me in a comforting cocoon.

That's how the day ended. I felt something I had never truly experienced: a sense of belonging. Cuddled into Becca's side, surrounded by crumpled junk food wrappers that served as our blanket, I fell asleep feeling lighter than I had in years.

No matter how upturned things might get, I knew I would never regret how it all happened. I had found a family, a home to call my own. A place that offered refuge from the darkness, a space where I could be free. I promised myself then that I would never slip away again.

Back on schedule! I'm so glad to be working on this story again. I have completely edited 1/3 of the chapters (and will keep it secret for the book version only!) and received my LCCN on Tuesday morning! One step closer! 

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