Chapter 197

As the days continue, so too does Caleb’s initiative to add commoners to the court. Thusly, per Bethany, I learn there are some fresh faces in court, in the form of three chosen commoners and their families.

Caleb has already asked me not to leave our room until he can personally escort me, but I am undeniably curious about the three commoners and how they are being received by the court.

Caleb’s request for me to stay in our room isn’t only because he’s worried the commoners will mistreat me. Instead, today is the first court held since the failed wedding. He’s more likely wishing to protect me from the harsh words of the nobility.

While Caleb didn’t tell anyone why he chose to reject Annabelle on the altar, the nobility has undoubtedly filled in the blanks themselves. The most obvious explanation is his favoritism of me.

The nobles love their gossip, especially regarding the King’s love life.

Even so, missing this important part of history doesn’t sit right with me. I was a servant for so long. I want to see commoners have their day in the court.

When I float my latest idea by Bethany, she replies with a flat look.

“Need I remind you what happened last time you dressed up as a servant?” she says.

The words strike me and I glance at her shoulder. While she has been healed for some time, I will never forget the fear that overwhelmed me at seeing her be shot. So much blood. My dear friend…

But things will be different this time. “We aren’t leaving the palace. We aren’t placing ourselves in any danger at all.”

“After that threat…” Bethany says.

“Caleb didn’t say that I couldn’t walk around the palace. Only that I had to be careful.” At least, that’s what he said up until today. He’s been diligently vetting all the people who work in the palace, removing any who he could even somewhat sense have ties to the rebellion.

Because of this, the number of staff is limited, but also more trusted. He’s stationed guards at more places around the palace too, making it more difficult for ‘distractions’ or ‘accidents’ to occur.

Other than Caleb’s chambers, the Hall is the most protected place in the palace.

“I can go alone,” I say at last, not wanting Bethany to feel in danger, even though I believe the odds of that are unlikely.

“Caleb will notice you right away,” Bethany says. “That’s the only reason I’m agreeing to this. He’ll see you and he might even indulge you. But if he tells you to leave, you have to listen, okay? Promise?”

I have no intention of making Caleb angry. “I promise,” I tell her.

With that, she helps me slip on my servant disguise. Then, making me carry the silver tea tray, helps me sneak past the guards at the door. They don’t look too closely at me, expecting me to be just more of the servants under Bethany’s direction. Bethany is exceedingly trusted by Caleb and thusly by his guards. Anyone with her is considered safe by association.

Together, Bethany and I head toward the Hall, leaving the tray with another servant who takes it away.

The moment we step into the Hall, the tension in the room nearly strangles us.

The three new commoners, two with their mates and a third alone, stand nearly isolated in the front corner of the room, while almost everyone else, all the nobles gawk at them like they were circus performer or an exhibit at a zoo.

Subtly, Bethany and I slink around the outer edge of the room, toward where a table of hors d'oeuvres have been set up. Standing there, helping to dish out the appetizers, I overheard much of the nobles’ spiteful distain, though they aren’t doing much to keep their voices down.

“Our King wants us to socialize with them? Of all the half-baked notions. What civilized things could they know about? I’m certainly not going to entertain a conversation about shoveling cow shit, or whatever other mundane, distasteful things commoners get up to.”

“The King insists they’ll be able to provide valuable insight on his policy making. He wants to have the people feel like their voices are heard. Well, what about our voices? Why should we have to associate with them?”

“Too true. If he wants to hear them, he should set up a separate Council just for them.”

“You are talking about the Alpha Council, dear. Those pack alphas are supposed to tell the king what goes on in their packs. Having commoners here is just redundant. In addition to distasteful.”

“His father would never do something like this…”

These are not the worst being said, nor are they the loudest.

At one point, someone actually shouts, “No one wants you here!”

The three commoners and two mates all still at the words. They can clearly hear the things being said about them.

Looking at Caleb, I urge him with my heart to intervene. To say something. To stop the nobility from behaving this way to the newest guests in the room. But Caleb continues to sit on his throne. His chin in his hand, he seems entirely bored with everything that’s happening in front of him.

Then, one of the commoners, the one without a mate, turns toward the rest of the room.

He’s a man in his mid-thirties, entirely bald, with a dignified air about him, even being in a room surrounded by nobles. Looking closer though, I can see chips in the façade he’s putting on. Glancing to his left and right, it’s clear he hears the things being said about him and they are leaving their mark.

Even so, he speaks loudly and clearly, “We are here on request of the Alpha King, and thusly, have every right to be here in this room. If you feel uneasy by our presence here, perhaps you should take some time for self-reflection. Unless you consider yourself intimidated by a handful of commoners?”

“Intimidated?” scoffs a nearby nobleman. “I would never.”

“We are all here for the same purpose,” the man continues. “To find a path toward peace. If you are against that, then you must be against peace yourself.”

“He lacks tact,” says a noblewoman near me. “His words are crass.”

“We do want peace, though,” says her friend, the first voice I’ve reason that I’ve heard among the nobility since my arrival. “If the King thinks this will help…”

Half the scoffs, but the other half seems curious about this man, and these commoners.

“I’m going to talk to him,” says the voice of reason.

“Marsha, don’t!”

But it’s already too late. Marsha is walking across the room.

Good for her.

Marsha is only the first of several who make the move toward the outspoken man. With the movements, a sense of calm starts to settle over the room at last. Though some people continue to complain about the commoners, others turn to other things.

The event has settled back into the mixer party that I’m used to seeing it as.

Satisfied with what I’ve seen, I’m about to suggest to Bethany that we return to the bedchambers before we are recognized, when a voice speaks up from behind me.

“Servant.” That’s Caleb’s voice. He’s so close he has to be talking to me. “I need a servant to personally attend to me. Now.”