The King's Fated Mate

As I step into the grand hall, I can't help but notice my worn-out sneakers. Their once deep black hue has faded to a somber shade of gray, and the soles cling on by a mere thread. It's time to put in a request for new ones.

Admittedly, I probably should have done so months ago. It's a surprise that my superiors haven't noticed and made me change into my ill-fitting, uncomfortable pair.

"I wonder what this is all about." Arya murmurs as she comes to stand next to me, her voice so quiet that I barely hear it above the murmurs of the humans inside.

Sighing, I drag my gaze from my shoes and look around the room. All of the castle's servants are standing around, confused expressions on their faces as they talk amongst themselves. It seems as if nobody has any clue why we've been summoned

here.

The King's Second commanded that all the castle servants should be in the Great Hall before breakfast for an announcement, but that's all the information he gave. I shrug, responding to Arya.

"Me too. It's not often that they do this."

My mind flashes back to the last time the Royals had such a formal announcement, and I hold back a grimace. Some wealthy Beasts from a nearby land were coming to visit, and we were warned that their treatment of humans was harsh and to be on our best behavior.

Up until that day I never realized just how terrifying the Beasts can be. King Sandor has always been relatively kind to us, making sure we are fed and clothed, but the others that came to visit operated in a much different manner.

On the first day of their visit, one of the men was eyeing a kitchen girl and as she was serving him his meal, he reached across the table and murdered her.

The girl's throat was ripped out in one swift motion. She was frozen for a moment, almost as if her brain couldn't comprehend what had happened, before she crumpled onto the floor.

There wasn't even a lull in the conversation for the Beasts. They continued on with their meal as if nothing had even happened.

It was horrific, and was whispered about for months.

As Arya and I continue walking into the room, I glance around trying to spot Jaime. He stands a good foot above the other human men, and with his overgrown mop of pale blonde hair he's generally hard to miss.

I quickly spot him talking with a group of men near the front entrance, but before I can make my way over the room falls silent. Everybody turns to face the doorway behind me, and I follow their lead. Spinning around, I watch King Sandor and his Second step into the room.

Uncomfortable with their close proximity, I shuffle backward slightly. I know that the action won't go unnoticed, but it's important I keep a safe distance in case they are angry with us.

My movement causes the King to glance at me before peering around the room. He takes his time, carefully inspecting each and every one of us, occasionally nodding to himself.

I can feel my palms getting sweaty, and I resist the urge to wipe them on my dress. Instead opting to clench them into fists by my side. Why is he looking at us like this?

The King's gaze suddenly snaps back to the center of the room and he clears his throat, preparing to speak.

"Hello all," he starts, both his face and voice void of any emotion.

"I'm sure you are all wondering why you are here. It has been requested that a small number of you transfer to Rozvi, the kingdom immediately North of here.

We have yet to decide on who will be going, but decisions will be made by the end of the day. Continue working as normal, and we will inform you later today should you be chosen to leave."

I feel my breath leave my body at his words, my shoulders slumping forward in relief. I'm a strong worker here at the castle, and it is unlikely that I will be chosen to leave.

Just as quickly as he arrived, the King turns and leaves the room, his Second following behind. The moment they are out of sight conversations begin to break out amongst the humans.

I spin back around to face the room, noticing that Arya has already left my side and she's speaking with Jaime. I swiftly make my way over to them, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress in an attempt to wick away the moisture that had accumulated while in the presence of the King.

"Who do you think will be chosen?" Jaime asks Arya, nervousness apparent in his voice. "I hope it's not me. I've heard awful things about Rozvi."

Jaime catches my eye as I approach his left and shifts his body to the right, making room for me to join their conversation. His eyebrows furrow together as he thinks over her question, his bottom lip sliding between his teeth to bite at the dry skin.

"He said that only a small number are going, so odds are we should be fine." I chime in, trying to soothe his worries. Arya frowns, looking just as stressed as Jaime. She grabs a curl resting on her collarbone, pulling it straight and mindlessly fiddling with the ends.

"What have you heard about them?" She asks Jaime, ignoring my statement.

"That they are cruel. That humans are treated like trash. That their servants are maimed and punished for the smallest of mistakes." Jaime glances at me, "They would probably whip you for wearing such raggedy shoes around."

I frown, glancing down at my feet once more. Would I really be punished for such a small thing? I hear Jaime let out a dry laugh, and can't help but to let some worry seep into my bones. I've never left King Sandor's kingdom, and don't have a lot of insight into how the other ones treat their humans.