Two Lines of Dread

Valerie stood frozen in the center of the cramped, sterile bathroom, staring at the slender plastic pregnancy stick resting in her trembling palm. The harsh fluorescent light above buzzed, casting pale shadows across the white tiled walls. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, rhythmic thud that echoed in her ears.

"Please, please, please," she muttered, the words tumbling past her dry lips in a desperate prayer. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut so tight that colorful spots danced across her vision. She begged for her mind to be playing tricks on her. She prayed for it to be a false alarm.

But the universe was rarely kind to her. When she forced her heavy eyelids open, the truth stared back at her with glaring clarity. Two distinct, unmistakable pink lines cut across the tiny display window.

"No, no, no, please no," she pleaded to the empty room, her voice cracking. The plastic test slipped from her sweaty fingers, clattering onto the hard floor.

It wasn't a bad dream. It was reality. She was pregnant. And the baby, the tiny, growing life inside her womb, belonged to the king.

Her knees suddenly gave out, unable to bear the weight of her spiraling panic. She slumped down onto the closed toilet lid, bowing her head as hot, stinging tears spilled over her lashes and dripped onto her uniform. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, rocking slightly.

What had she expected? She had let King Dom take her in a haze of pure, consuming lust. He had thrust deep inside her entirely unprotected, filling her tight walls with his seed, and she had welcomed it, moaning his name, letting the sheer animalistic pleasure override all logic. She had felt his hot slickness coating her, relished the raw friction, and now she was paying the ultimate price. It was all her fault.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered into the stifling silence.

She was completely alone in this sprawling, gilded palace. There was no one she could trust, no friend she could turn to for advice. She had come to Trevani solely for work, desperate to disappear. The only people she knew were her fellow palace maids, and she could never confide in them. They were loyal citizens of the Trevani kingdom; she was an outsider, a foreign anomaly sweeping their floors.

Once, long ago, her life had been in Morvalle. She had been a dedicated nurse. Her life back then hadn't been glamorous or wealthy, but it had been safe. She had been happy. That fragile happiness shattered the night her father got involved with a brutal underground syndicate. The memories hit her in a violently clear flashback—the deafening splinter of the front door, the muzzle flashes lighting up the dark hallway, the metallic scent of blood soaking into the carpet. They had slaughtered her father, her mother, and her younger brother without a second thought. Valerie was the only one who survived, escaping through a shattered window and running blindly into the freezing rain.

She fled Morvalle, a ghost hunted by ruthless men looking to finish the job. She forged papers, buried her real name, and found sanctuary behind the heavily guarded walls of the Trevani royal palace. It became her hiding place, her safe haven.

And now, she had ruined it all by spreading her legs for the king.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood, trying to ground herself. She was living under a fake identity. The fact that royal security hadn't discovered her secret in the past two years didn't mean she was safe forever.

She couldn't stay here and give birth. The royal court would demand to know the father's identity. If they discovered it was King Dom's child, the consequences would be swift and merciless. They would drag her to a clinic and force an abortion to protect the bloodline, or they would let her give birth only to snatch the baby from her arms the moment the umbilical cord was cut. She had witnessed the cruelty of the royals firsthand; she remembered watching one of the king’s brother's mistresses screaming in the courtyard as guards tore her newborn away, before tossing the weeping woman out onto the streets.

Valerie refused to let that happen to her child. Even if fleeing the palace meant the assassins might finally track her down and put a bullet in her head.

Abortion was out of the question. She gently pressed her hand flat against her flat belly. She would never kill her unborn child. This baby was the only living family member she had left in the entire world.

After ensuring the four positive test kits were buried deep at the bottom of the trash bin, obscured by damp paper towels, she washed her face and exited the bathroom.

She walked into the small, drafty bedroom she shared with Marnie. Marnie was a native Trevani, older, and had been working the palace halls much longer than Valerie. Marnie was packing her belongings; she was leaving at the end of the month to get married. A pang of bitter jealousy struck Valerie. She wished she had a family, a fiancé, somewhere safe to go.

"Hey Valerie," Marnie said, looking up from her open suitcase. "The king asked to see you."

Valerie’s stomach dropped to the floor. "What? Why?"

"Hmm, does the king need a reason to call on his maid?" Marnie smirked, folding a worn sweater. "Well, the only way to find out is to go up there and meet him. You should hurry, though. I heard from the kitchen staff that he is in a terrible mood. His wife-to-be is arriving at the palace soon, and he still hasn't made any preparations to receive her."

His wife-to-be.

The words felt like a physical blow to her chest. Another glaring reason why staying in the palace was impossible. King Dom was getting married. She could not jeopardize the royal wedding with her reckless mistake. She had to leave, and soon, before her body betrayed her. Going by the exact date she slept with the king, she was already about two months along. The morning sickness would start soon, followed by the undeniable swelling of her stomach.

King Dom the Third had ruled Trevani for over five years. Despite his scandalous, highly publicized reputation with women, he was considered a good king. He loved his people, and the citizens adored him. By law, the king was allowed to take as many women to his bed as he desired, so his womanizing ways weren't frowned upon by the public. But to Valerie, it was a glaring flaw. Why had she let him touch her? Why had she surrendered to his dominant demands in the dark? It was a moment of weakness that only she seemed to remember.

Valerie walked briskly through the opulent, sprawling corridors toward the king's private chambers, her mind racing with terrifying scenarios of why she was summoned.

"Look who finally showed up," King Dom’s deep, authoritative voice boomed as she stepped into the massive room. He clapped his hands together slowly, a mocking gesture.

"I am sorry I took so long, Your Majesty," Valerie said immediately, dropping into a deep, subservient bow, keeping her eyes fixed on the intricate patterns of the expensive Persian rug.

"I don't need you to apologize," Dom snapped, stepping out from behind his mahogany desk. He looked immaculate, unbothered, treating her exactly the way he used to before that night. He didn't ask her a single personal question. He didn't mention the way she had screamed his name. "I need you to run some errands for me, and you are the only one I can trust to do this without spreading gossip through the servants' quarters."

Valerie blinked, confusion briefly overriding her fear. "What may that be, my King?"

"Nothing much. You just need to deliver a package to an address that I will provide. You are not to look inside it, and you are not to talk about it to anyone. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied, her mind spinning. "But to whom do I have to deliver this?"

She already assumed it must be one of his many mistresses. Perhaps a massive payoff to silence a lover now that his official bride was arriving.

"You will know once you get there," Dom said coldly. He leaned forward, his gaze piercing right through her. "Bear in mind that what I am giving you is worth millions of Trevani dollars. You will pay dearly if anything happens to it."

A cold sweat broke out across her neck. Millions? She wished he would just assign this task to one of his heavily armed royal guards. Why make her carry this burden? If she lost it, or if she was robbed, she had nothing. The meager wages she earned barely covered her basic necessities after the kingdom's heavy taxes. She only worked here for the protection the palace walls offered. She had zero savings. She would be thrown in the royal dungeon to rot.

"Yes, my King," she whispered, standing perfectly still, waiting for him to hand it over.

A heavy silence stretched between them. Two full minutes passed. She didn't dare lift her head to meet his eyes.

"My King?" she called out softly.

"Oh, here it is," he finally said, stepping closer and thrusting a small black leather bag into her hands. It was the size of a jewelry box, heavy and unassuming.

"That is all. You may go," Dom commanded, turning his back on her. "The driver will take you. Once you give it to the household, come back to the palace right away. I have a few things to talk to you about. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my King."

She backed out of the chamber, her pulse racing. Things to talk about. What could he possibly want to discuss? It couldn't be about their night together. He clearly didn't care. To him, she was just another notch on his bedpost, a passing conquest. Or perhaps, worse, his security had finally cracked her fake identity. The thought made her nauseous. She decided to shove the fear down and just endure the errand.

Before leaving the palace grounds, she hurried back to her room. The winter air outside was biting, so she pulled on thick leggings, a heavy wool sweater, and a long coat, layering her clothes to preserve her body heat.

Clutching the heavy package tight against her chest, she walked the long distance to the rear courtyard where the king's official driver was waiting. She expected to see a uniformed royal guard standing by the black sedan, but the area was empty. Perhaps the king wanted this kept strictly off the books.

She climbed into the back of the car, and the driver immediately started the engine.

"Are we going alone?" Valerie asked nervously. Usually, any maid leaving the palace for an official errand was escorted by a guard.

"Yes," the driver replied gruffly. That was all he said. She wasn't familiar with this particular man, so she sat back against the leather seat and remained quiet as the car rolled past the heavily fortified palace gates and into the bustling city.

Time dragged on endlessly. The towering stone buildings and crowded markets of the capital gradually faded, replaced by scattered suburban houses, and eventually, desolate, frozen wilderness.

"How long before we get to where we are going?" Valerie asked, her voice breaking the oppressive silence inside the cabin.

They had been driving for over two hours. They were deep in the outskirts of the kingdom now. The dense, dead brush outnumbered the buildings, and they hadn't passed a single house in over thirty minutes. Why would the king send a package worth millions out to the middle of nowhere?

The driver ignored her. He stared straight ahead at the long, empty dirt road.

Her anxiety spiked. Her palms began to sweat against the leather bag. She didn't have a mobile phone to check her GPS location. The palace strictly forbade servants from carrying personal devices.

"Excuse me?" she tried again, leaning forward slightly. "Where are we going to? We have been driving for hours and there are no houses in this area."

The driver still didn't answer, but his foot pressed down on the brake pedal. The heavy car slowly came to a halt on the side of the deserted dirt road. There was absolutely nothing around them but tall, dried grass swaying in the freezing wind.

"I was happy you weren't asking any questions," the driver muttered, his voice dropping into a dark, menacing tone. "Why do you have to start questioning me now?"

"What do you mean by that?" Valerie's heart slammed against her ribs. She gripped the door handle, but it was locked from the front. "You have been driving for hours and we are not getting to where we are going. Just where are we going to?"

The driver killed the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed his door open, and stepped out into the cold. Valerie watched him walk around to the trunk of the car. When he reappeared by her window a moment later, her blood turned to ice.

He held a heavy, black handgun.

He yanked her door open, letting a blast of freezing wind tear through the cabin.

"What? What's the meaning of this?" she shrieked, pressing her back flush against the opposite door, terror gripping her throat.

"This?" he sneered, pointing the steel barrel directly at her chest. "This is to shut you up until we get to where we are going. One word from you, and you are gone."

The raw threat ignited a blinding panic inside her. This wasn't a royal errand. This was a setup.

"What's going on? I don't get why you have a gun!" Valerie cried out, her voice pitching into hysterical fear. "Where are you taking me? Is this the king's instruction?"

She knew keeping quiet wouldn't save her now. She was in severe danger. Before she could attempt to kick him or scramble over the seats, the driver lunged into the back.

He grabbed the lapels of her thick coat, hauling her forward with brutal force. She thrashed wildly, screaming for help, but the man was massive, his strength overwhelming her frantic struggles. He slammed her face-down onto the leather bench, pinning her beneath his heavy frame.

He pulled a thick coil of rough rope from his pocket. He wrenched her arms painfully behind her back, binding her wrists together with tight, unforgiving knots that instantly cut off her circulation. She kicked her legs, trying to strike his shins, but he merely grunted and shoved a dirty, foul-tasting rag deep into her mouth. He secured the gag with a tight strip of cloth tied violently around the back of her head.

Tears of sheer terror streamed down her face, soaking into the leather seat. He climbed off her, slamming the heavy car door shut and locking her inside.

Helpless and terrified, Valerie lay trapped in the back seat, her wrists burning and her breathing restricted. She listened to the driver get back into the front seat and start the engine. The car rolled forward into the desolate wasteland. She waited in agonizing silence, staring at the ceiling, dreading whatever dark, violent fate awaited her at the end of the road.