25 Is she a vicious woman?

Fraser dragged his tired body to his bedchamber. With one glance around, he sensed something different from the previous days.

The bed sheets adhered to the canopy bed. A well-tidied blanket was on the left side while the pillows were wheezed and put closer to each other. The windows were closed, and there was a missing pot of water near his bedside stand.

And there were no flowers at the table in the corner.

He didn't know why he thought of these things. That maid never did her work perfectly. Always, there would be something lacking. Dust spread on his furniture, crushing one of his expensive pieces of furniture and many more things.

Sometimes, he thought she was a delicate woman who never did this job, but it had been more than half a year. She should have been accustomed to the maid's duties.

Clumsy and dumb.

"Your Majesty, the bath is ready," Lucas informed him. Fraser nodded and ordered him to retreat.

As he dove into the water, he frowned. 'The water is warmer than usual.' A thought popped into his head, remembering the time that maid made the water hot. He was taken by surprise at first, then amused later. No one had ever dared to challenge him, whether it was at the battlefield or the court. How can a mere maid from his enemies hurt him?

He took his revenge on her. For the first time, he saw fear in her eyes. Thinking that if she was the traitor they were searching for, would she beg for his mercy? Or she would be stubborn and pursue a path that had no end.

Fraser took a quick bath, wore his night clothes and walked to his bed. Closing his eyes, he hoped this night would sleep for more.

His eyelashes fluttered as he dozed off.

"Did you kill him?" an image of his rage father questioning his crying mother when he sneaked away from his nanny and went to look for his mother. "Answer me! Did you do it?"

Fraser stirred in his sleep.

His mother kept saying that she didn't. Her eyes were red from sobbing. Her hair stuck to her cheeks. "If I found one proof that you have a hand in my son's death. I will deal with you."

Fraser ran with his short legs before his father stormed in his direction. Terrified by witnessing the scene of his parents fighting. He sprinted with all his might, collapsing into his big brother's body. Estevan took him to the palace's roof and talked to him, soothing his sadness.

He opened his eyes, hearing a knock on his door. He woke up, wiped the sweat from his forehead and strode to his bath space. The maid greeted him like usual. Casting a glance at her, he went inside the washing room.

"I had to say that you have such courage, I heard you visited Jun. What was your feeling facing the person you nearly took his life?" he asked when he finished his meal.

The maid stopped tidying the table and gazed at him for a moment.

"He didn't die. That's what truly matters," she answered.

Such a cruel mind! He thought she would feel guilty, but her answer proved the opposite.

'She is such a vicious person slowly revealing her true nature.'

Fraser leaned on his chair. "Actions do not matter, but the consequence that does? Then what if he died? What were you supposed to do?"

"Nothing, because what your majesty supposed never happened. There are a lot of 'what ifs' in our lives, but whatever we do, we can never change what happened," she clarified, her blue eyes glittered with confidence. Four eyes met. Neither of them refused to look away.

A knock on the door disturbed their heated stares.

"Your majesty, the tailor is here. Waiting for you at the assemblage room," Lucas notified him. He nodded and walked out. Thinking that the foundation party was nearing and the tailor would design a new outfit for him. Fraser frowned at the unnecessary custom he had to follow.

As he entered the room, an old man in his forties greeted him. He came with a young woman wearing a yellow dress.

Fraser took a seat while the two sat on the opposite side.

"I bought my daughter to help me. I hurt my hand a day ago and couldn't move her. I hope Your Majesty didn't have any objection," the tailor said.

"I have none," Fraser said, noticing a line of sweat forming on the man's forehead. If such a trick would work with him, he would have long lost his position. He just didn't want to do unnecessary things.

The tailor showered him with questions Fraser didn't care to know. 'What's your preferred colour for the outfit, what shape of collar did he like, is the suit long or short? Who cared about this?' The clothes he wore appeared the same for him. Fraser rubbed his head and ordered tea. Answering randomly while the father notified his daughter about the design, and she wrote on her papers.

"One last thing… I need to take your measurements, your majesty."

"Didn't we do that last year?" Fraser said, annoyed.

"Your Majesty, I need to ensure your outfit has no misshape. That's why I need to take your measurement before," said the man on the verge of crying.

'It's not like I gained weight!' Fraser sighed and stood up. The woman held a green ribbon and shuffled to him.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," she said coyly.

"No need to tire you," he said while she opened her eyes, taken back by his remark. "You, come here," shifting his gaze toward the maid, putting the tray on the table. The maid raised her head to meet his gaze. She looked back and forth, not believing that he summoned her.

"Do you need something, your majesty?" she asked, looking at the floor.

"Give her the ribbon and construct her on what she has to do," Fraser said. The woman nodded, forcing a smile.

The maid took the stripe and stepped closer. Her hands trembled a little. Fraser opened his arm, and she circulated her hands over his chest. The unusual scent hit his nostrils. What is it? He couldn't tell. It wasn't any flowery scent. Rachel liked them and applied different smells whenever he visited her. This fragrance reminded him of the smell of soil after the rain, freshening and pleasing.

Her head barely reached his chest. She did her job, avoiding looking at his eyes and trying to distance herself enough, even though she failed as she jolted whenever she touched him. Her white cheeks tinted with red slowly. While he listened to the rhythmic sounds of her heart.

As they finished, she fled many steps back. The tailor and his daughter bid their farewell and retreated. While he shifted his gaze to her and their gazes met for a moment before she looked down.