Chapter 5 Aria

• The expression on the coordinator's face, a mix of ashamed apologies and a certain fear, only intensifies the suffocating feeling in my chest. His hunched posture before Queen Seraphina and King Caelum, as if trying to make up for a grave mistake, makes me feel tiny, insignificant, like an insect about to be crushed. His words, as gentle as they are desperate, seem to echo through the hall, each one heavier than the last, and the sensation that everyone is watching me becomes unbearable. The weight of silent judgment seems to press down on my shoulders, a pressure that threatens to crush me right then and there.
• As I replay each moment in my mind, every detail of what I did, the sound of laughter and conversations around me transforms into a distant hum, as if I were submerged in an ocean of uncertainty. The walls of the great hall seem to close in around me, turning the once majestic space into something oppressive.
• The glances of the guests become invisible barbs that pierce my skin, even though most are not even paying attention to me. Shame eats away at me from the inside, making me wish to disappear, to evaporate, to be swallowed by any dark corner of the hall where the light of the lamps could not find me. I quickly and silently make my way to the kitchen, with Malik following behind me.
• When we finally pass through the kitchen door, the warmer air, filled with the scent of spices and freshly prepared food, greets me, bringing brief relief. But despair soon takes over again. Unable to help it, the words spill out of me in a frantic rush, begging for understanding, for a chance to redeem myself. My voice trembles, laden with fear, as my eyes search Malik's, hoping to find some spark of mercy.
• “I am terribly sorry, I do not know what I did wrong! Please, do not deduct it from my pay, I desperately need the money!” I say, desperation in my voice.
• He firmly places his hands on my shoulders, a simple gesture, but one filled with authority and calm. His touch is like an anchor, grounding me to reality, preventing me from being swept away by the tide of panic threatening to drown me. His words, though stern, carry an unexpected comfort.
• “This is your first warning, do not worry. The queen must be in a bad mood and needed someone to take it out on. Go serve the other guests and stay far, extremely far from the king and queen's table, understood?”
• “Yes, sir. Thank you so much! I will not disappoint you, I promise!” I reply, full of gratitude and anxiety.
• I set down the tray, which now feels twice as heavy, and quickly pick up another with lighter canapés, as if this might somehow ease the burden in my heart. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and once again straighten my posture. I try to keep my mind focused on what I am doing; I must get through this night without any incident. The fear of being dismissed, of losing the means to provide for Thorne and Elowen, my two little treasures, is greater than any wounded pride. I cannot fail. Not for myself, but for them.
• I pass through the kitchen door and walk with determined steps, the tray in my hand, down the wide corridor leading to the hall. Just a few steps before entering the hall, a large figure appears around the corner, and I collide with them. I fall to the ground along with the tray of canapés. The impact is strong, and I feel dizzy for a moment.
• When I raise my eyes to see if I bumped into another waiter or guest, I am shocked to find King Caelum standing before me. My heart feels like it is about to leap out of my chest at the sight of the imposing presence of King Caelum above me.
• His expression is severe, as if every muscle in his face were carved from stone, his lips pressed into a hard line, and his green eyes, so intense they seem to pierce through my soul, glaring at me with a silent fury.
• With a knot in my stomach, I notice that some of the fallen canapés have stained his dark trousers with a thick white sauce, a sight that only amplifies the dread consuming me. The marble floor beneath me is cold and unforgiving, and the reality of what I have done settles in my mind like a stone at the bottom of a well.
• Still on the ground, the slippery tray clutched in my trembling hands, I desperately try to gather my thoughts, but it is like trying to hold water in my hands; everything slips away. Why me, why now? The questions spin in my mind, but without answers. All I can feel is the cold fear wrapping around me like a shroud, tightening around my chest with the strength of an invisible chain.
• It takes me a few precious moments, paralyzed by shock, before my instincts finally take over, and I begin clumsily picking up the mess, my fingers futilely trying to wipe the sauce from the king's trousers.
• “Forgive me, Majesty. I did not see where I was going and…” I stammer, my words filled with nervousness.
• My voice is weak, barely a whisper, and my mind echoes with only one desperate thought: Damn, damn, damn! I am lost. I will be dismissed, banished from the castle. Or worse, he might send me to prison, a dark, and cold place where my life will be ruined over a stained pair of trousers.
• I remain on my knees on the floor, my hands stained with sauce, picking up the canapés one by one, feeling smaller with each movement, more insignificant. The pain in my knees, pressed against the marble, seems distant, almost irrelevant compared to the fear growing inside me like a wildfire. I cannot look at him again. I cannot. The image of his fury is etched in my mind, and I am ready to receive my sentence, whatever it may be, for I know there is no forgiveness for someone like me, a mere servant who dared to make such a mistake before a king.
• “You creature…” The deep, resounding sound of King Caelum's voice makes every muscle in my body contract in pure terror. The anger in his words is palpable, and each syllable feels like a death sentence. However, he stops mid-sentence, surprising me as much as the sound of his voice. For a moment, I remain still, my heart pounding so fast I feel as though it might burst.
• By reflex, my eyes slowly rise, despite the fear keeping me rooted to the floor. I need to understand, to know why he stopped. When our eyes meet, what I see surprises me as much as the most terrible nightmare. The stern and scowling expression of King Caelum, which moments before seemed carved in stone, is now transformed. He looks confused, stunned, as if he has seen something that should not be there.
• He stares at me, catatonic, his green eyes fixed on me with an intensity that leaves me breathless, as if there is something on my face, something that has rendered him speechless.
• At this moment of embarrassment and tension, my heart still racing, I allow myself a longer glance at his face. With each detail I notice, my mind momentarily drifts away from the terror of the situation. Were it not for all this, I might simply sigh in awe at Caelum's commanding beauty. The contours of his face, so finely sculpted, the firmness of his jaw, the green eyes that seem to have been painted by the hand of a divine artist—everything about him exudes an aura of power and royalty that is nearly impossible to ignore.
• “You…” Caelum says, but this time his voice is a whisper, almost inaudible, yet enough to send a chill down my spine. There is something in his tone, something that makes me feel a cold shiver at the base of my spine, as if a frigid wind had swept through the hall. His eyes remain fixed on me, but the anger that once burned in them is gone. In its place, there is something different, something I cannot fully identify. For a brief moment, Caelum's gaze is as if he is seeing a ghost, or an old memory that has returned to haunt him.