The Warrior of Avelyn

Ⅲ

Having mastered knocking on the Prince's door with a tray full of food in her hands, Clara awaited for any sort of response.

"Enter." She rolled her eyes, mimicking him silently.

"Can you please open the door?" She asked.

"I'm busy." Clara clenched her jaw, knowing very well he was not busy, as she was the one in charge of his daily schedule.

"And I have your food in my hands, so unless you want your food to taste like the floor, I suggest you open the door."

The door swung open, revealing the Prince with furrowed eyebrows, his lips pressed into a tight line. Victor looked her up and down, raising an eyebrow.

"Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" He sneered.

"I'm Clara Lux, not so nice to meet you, my lord." She smiled sarcastically. "May I enter?"

"No."

"Well then, here's your lunch." She smiled ever so sweetly, putting the tray in his hands. "I suppose you'll do all your tasks yourself, now that I'm not allowed to enter?" She turned to leave, but the Prince called out for her.

"No, wait!" She stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him, her head held high and her eyes stern. Victor let out a huff as he aggressively ran a hand through his luscious dark locks. Clara raised an eyebrow, staring at the prince as he avoided her eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"Well?"

"Just get in and do what I asked you." He snapped, his old self resurfacing.

"You didn't ask me, you demanded it." She crossed her arms, hiding her sudden flinch when pressure applied to one of her wounds.

"Same thing." He scoffed.

"What's the magic word?"

"Excuse me?" He looked at her with his nose scrunched.

"You are excused." She said nonchalantly. "I'm still waiting, your highness."

"I owe you nothing."

"Neither do I."

"Look, if you don't co-operate I'm sure my father would throw you in the dungeons."

"Oh, please, go ahead." She smiled sarcastically. "I'd very much rather be behind bars than have to deal with your arrogance."

Victor placed the tray of food on his table before he took three long strides to his maidservant, towering over her, his eyes stern and cold. He almost waivered at the strength in her eyes as she stood confidently, not trembling like he thought she would.

"I'm not arrogant." He sneered, his breath fanning the young maidservant's face.

"Of course not, my lord." She smiled innocently, walking around him to get to her work, trying to control her urge to slap him.

Victor stared after her for a moment, shocked at how she didn't react like every other woman in the kingdom. It was no mystery that he was very handsome, and had every woman swooning after him.

He rolled his eyes and sat at his table, beginning to eat his lunch.

"Cleo, who made this?" he called out.

Silence.

"I'm talking to you!" He all but yelled.

Clara turned from dusting his books, which she noticed were unused, and she felt pity, because she believed books needed to be loved and cherished, not left to be covered in dust. She stood straight and looked him in the eyes, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Were you?" She faked confusion. "If I recall correctly, you called for a Cleo."

"Yes, I did." He furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing what he had said wrong.

"You see, my lord." She shrugs, continuing to do her work. "My name is Clara, it's simple enough for your rodent brain to remember I'm sure."

Having had enough of her attitude, Victor sprung up from his seat, his fists making contact with the wooden table, a loud noise emitting from it.

"That is it!" He sneered. "You should show me some respect! How dare you talk to your prince like that?"

"And you should show some respect to the people who work for you!" Clara exclaimed, turning around, her steely gaze meeting his. "As a prince, you should be respectful and kind to those who put so much effort in keeping you alive on a daily basis."

Victor was at a lost for words, as he found himself to be many times around the young maiden. She spoke with such calm confidence that her tone could send an army trembling to their knees.

"And to answer your previous question, I made your food."

"I hated the food." he said simply, looking away from her.

"No, you didn't." She rolled her eyes. "You hated me. I've been making your food for the past few years and you've always eaten it happily."

Taking the basket of the prince's clothes, she left the room, not letting the prince get another word in.

With a defeated grumble, he sat back and ate his food, not wanting to admit that he loved the taste of it.

It was then that he knew that Clara would be a recurring headache in his life.