Chapter 8

• Freya stayed in her room until after nine in the morning. She was still in there, staring at the ceiling while lying on the bed with her legs propped up against the wall. All she was bothered by last night's events—the maid, then the assassin. Though her instincts prevent her from thinking positively, she wants to think that they are not spies.
• "It is likely that she is using them to trick me because she recognized me." She reminded herself once more. However, thinking back to the chats Luna had with the assassin prior to his departure from the house yesterday, it did not seem like she was taking advantage of him, and the maid dressing down to protect her is evidence that they are real.
• "Is she aware that it was me? And that I am an assassin?” Shaking her head, she turned to face the opposite end of the bed. "Now, how long has it been? Were they here because they had to save me? But, if that assassin is real, why does he work for her?" At that moment, she remembered the last thing the assassin had said. “He had done that to save me? What exactly?”
• She immediately climbed out of bed. “I must meet with him. He must explain everything in detail.” She grabbed her toothbrush and ran to the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth and get dressed. Similar to yesterday, when she emerged from the restroom, the maid was already in her room.
• “Are you a ghost or what? Is it just me, or do your footsteps sound silent and the door opens without making any noise?” With a hiss, she walked by her. "I do not feel like eating right now."
• "You ought to have some food. You cannot possibly prevail in a fight if you are hungry.” The maid answered her.
• She raised her face to get a closer look at the courageous woman who was teaching her. "I assume you consider me to be the princess you served, am I correct? I am not her…The person you are seeing can rip your throat off without anyone knowing, so keep your tutor to yourself. That princess is no longer here. She issued a warning.
• "His Majesty begged me to lead you through, and I vowed to comply. I was just waiting for the ideal opportunity to attack, even though I know you are still alive.” She moved a step nearer to her. "My princess, please resist the urge to fall in love with the king. The throne belongs to you, and he is our enemy.”
• She snorted. "What if I never made it here?"
• "At the appropriate moment, we would have taken that action. This has been my goal with the assassin."
• She held her hand. "Now tell me one thing: where is he staying?"
• She raised her eyebrows. “In the mountains. He built a hut there. But please do not go there now; the King has sent for you."
• Freya let out a huge sigh of relief. "At the mountain." She repeated and then stood up. She went out of the room to visit Arthur, who was getting ready. Proceeding towards his bed, she removed the bracelet that was resting there. "It appears to be familiar!"
• “It doesn't!” He looked in her direction. "I got it from my special someone, so I do not let people touch it."
• She moistened her lips. “Special person? A male or female?” Her mood shifted; she was not sure why, but she was already feeling envious. She has no business getting involved in that, male or female.
• "That is not your concern. Don't touch it again.” Approaching her, he snatched the bracelet from her.
• Her expression twisted, yet she observed him wearing it. She could remember owning that bracelet and giving it to her partner on their first date, so it really did look familiar. But right now, she has no idea if that mate is still alive—and she had nothing to do with a mate when she had Flarry.
• "Let us stroll through the pack together." They stepped out of the room after he took her hand.
• She was lost in thought even as they were walking, attempting to relive the moments she had spent with him. Perhaps this would help her remember his appearance, but it was not the case. She is not sure if she simply forgot about him or if she lost the memories.
• "Last night when an assassin entered the palace, I was really afraid for you. But I felt better when I saw you soundly dozing in your room.” He said something to end their silence.
• She remained silent and continued to stare at the ground they were walking on.
• They ran into him—the assassin she had wanted to visit—as soon as they got to the corridor. Observing him closely, she felt contentment in his gaze. She could feel concern for him everywhere. The smiles that left his lips told her he was genuine and not a spy, but since she was with Arthur, there was nothing she could do to stop him.
• "You never inquired about the assassin who targeted me that evening. Is that how committed you are to being my Luna?" He questioned her, curious to hear her self-defense strategy.
• She gave him a smile. "What about the warrior who nearly put you to death? I was waiting for feedback instead.” She shot back with a question. “Was he caught?”
• Arthur shook his head.
• "What if I asked why your mother treats you as if you were a slave? Aren't you her biological son?” She brought up a new topic, although she didn't need to. However, if his mother dethrones him, she will be affected as well. “Are you a pawn? Or is that just how she trained you?”
• He pivoted to gaze upon her.
• As the maid approaching them tripped over a stone at that precise moment, she spilled the bowl of water she was carrying over Freya's body.
• They stopped, and she looked at herself intently.
• "I apologize deeply. I stumbled onto the stone." The maid apologized.
• Gritting her teeth, she gave the suspicious-looking girl a glare. The maid raised one eyelid, and as their gaze met, she grinned broadly.
• “A spy!” She shrugged her shoulders, thinking. “It's just a mistake, you can go.” With a wink, she cast a quick glance at Arthur.
• The maid stepped on her foot as she went by. At that moment, she reached out and grabbed her hair, pulling her back. "This time, you saw my foot, right?"
• “What is going on?” Arthur queried anxiously.
• Freya pulled the maids' hair, causing her face to rise. "I will not spare you next time." She pushed her to the ground.
• That face, she had to watch what she did.