A King's Mounting Anxiety

Footsteps echoed sharply against the cold marble floor as Dom paced the length of his private chamber. He stopped in front of his massive mahogany desk, his dark eyes darting to the gold-rimmed clock resting near a stack of scattered trade agreements.

Past twenty-zero hours.

His jaw tightened. The assignment he gave her was incredibly simple. Get in the car, drop off the package at the designated location, and return to the palace. It was a straight route with clear instructions. She should have been back hours ago. He had already asked the royal staff to check the servant quarters three times today. Every single time, they returned with the exact same frustrating report. Not back yet.

"Your majesty."

Dom stopped pacing and turned. His special advisor stood in the open doorway, holding a digital tablet.

"What is it?" Dom asked, his voice rough with impatience.

"Sorry to disturb your downtime, but the soon-to-be queen wants to speak to you on the phone," Gideon announced, stepping into the room.

Dom scowled. He was in no mood to speak to the would-be queen. In fact, he was not in the mood to speak to anyone in this damn palace. The only thing he cared about right now was the missing maiden he had sent out into the city.

"Tell her to tell you whatever it is she wants to say, and you can relay it to me later," Dom ordered, turning his back on his advisor. "I am in no mood to speak with anyone right now."

Gideon hesitated, tapping the side of the tablet. "But my king, she insists—"

"No buts, Gideon," Dom snapped, his patience snapping like a dry twig. He pointed a strict finger at the man. "Unless you want to spend the rest of your week rotting in the palace prison."

Gideon’s eyes widened slightly. He bowed his head. "Sorry, my king."

The advisor quickly exited the chamber, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind him. Dom checked the time again. The glowing numbers on the clock seemed to mock him. He let out a harsh breath and walked out into the corridor, signaling the nearest guard stationed by the pillars.

"Go check if the maiden I sent out is back yet. It has been hours," Dom commanded.

"Yes, your majesty," the guard bowed low and hurried down the stone hallway.

Dom retreated into his chamber and closed the door. A dark, ugly feeling twisted in his gut. He should have ordered a royal guard to ride in the car with her. He made a tactical choice to keep the delivery quiet. He did not want word spreading through the city that a fortune was moving through the streets. The velvet box she carried contained rare uncut diamonds worth a staggering amount of money. Sending a heavily armed escort would have painted a massive target on the vehicle.

Besides, she was not going anywhere dangerous. It was a routine route. He had deemed a guard unnecessary at the time. Now, the silence from the outside world felt deafening. He wished he had sent an entire convoy. She did not even have a cell phone to call for help. The palace enforced a strict rule denying common staff personal phones during working hours. It was just another outdated, stupid rule he needed to change. If she had a phone, he could trace her location. He could demand answers. Instead, he was trapped in this room, blind and waiting.

What could possibly be taking so long? The only danger attached to the task was the sheer value of the stones in her possession. He prayed he had not done something to put her life at risk.

A knock echoed through the room. The guard stepped inside, looking apologetic.

"My king, she isn't back yet," the guard reported.

Dom ran a heavy hand over his tired face. "Okay. Keep a close eye out. The exact second she comes through those gates, you let me know. Understood?"

"Yes, sire," the guard said, bowing out of the room.

Dom walked over to the tall windows overlooking the royal courtyard. Darkness had swallowed the kingdom of Trevani. Being king of a failing nation for nearly five years felt like drowning in quicksand. He gave his blood and sweat to do what was best for his people, but some days, it felt like throwing stones into a bottomless pit. Rebuilding the shattered economy would take decades. The treasury was bleeding money, foreign investors had pulled out, and the common people were starting to lose faith in the crown.

It was a mess he never asked for. As a young boy, Dom harbored zero interest in the throne. He was not even next in line. He was the product of his father’s mistress, an illegitimate stain on the royal lineage. No one ever looked at him and saw a future ruler. He received no royal training. He spent his youth exiled in foreign boarding schools, far away from the palace politics. His mother possessed no real power and gave him away shortly after his birth. The last time he saw her face, he was ten years old.

He built a life abroad, content to let Trevani fade into his rearview mirror. He studied finance, learning how real economies functioned while his home country rotted under bad leadership. That all changed five years ago. His father, lying weak and frail on his deathbed, begged him to return home. Dom fought the idea. His father had never been a real parent to him. But the old man revealed a grim truth: the acting king, Dom’s older stepbrother Draven, was driving the kingdom straight into the ground.

In less than two years of acting rule, Draven managed to crush Trevani’s booming economy, signing disastrous trade agreements and draining the royal treasury to line his own pockets while the streets starved. Returning home after ten years away remained the hardest choice Dom ever made. He fought tooth and nail to build trust among the skeptical elders. He took over the duties of acting king, digging through the financial ruin Draven left behind. When his father finally passed away a year later, the elders did not hesitate. They crowned Dom as their new king.

Five years later, he was still sweeping up Draven’s broken glass. Selling those diamonds on the black market was his quiet strategy to patch another gaping hole Draven had blown in the kingdom’s finances. Taking the crown made him a permanent enemy to his stepbrother. The older brother was banished from the palace grounds, stripped of his title, but he still lurked in the shadows of the kingdom, bitter and dangerous.

The heavy oak doors creaked open again.

"My king," Gideon’s voice broke through the quiet room, dragging Dom out of his dark thoughts.

Dom scowled, turning away from the window. "What is it this time, Gideon? If you are just here to deliver the exact same message from the soon-to-be queen, then you can wait until tomorrow. I am in no mood to hear her nonsense talk right now."

Gideon locked the door behind him and dropped his rigid posture. He crossed his arms, his formal advisor mask melting away.

"Why are you so on edge, Dom?" Gideon asked, his tone shifting to the casual drawl of an old friend. "You are making me seem like the bad guy here. I am just doing my job. Don't be such a pussy."

Dom glared at him. Gideon was not just a special advisor; he was Dom’s best friend. He was probably the only genuine friend Dom had in the entire kingdom. When Dom was exiled abroad, Gideon served as his sole lifeline, sneaking him information about the kingdom’s affairs. Rewarding that loyalty with a seat on the royal council was the right move, even if Dom regretted it on nights like this. The man could be a massive pest. But Gideon was also the only person alive who could talk to the king of Trevani like a normal human being, at least when the doors were locked.

"I am not on edge," Dom fired back, pacing back to his desk.

"I think you are," Gideon countered, stepping further into the room. "First, you threaten to get me locked up in the dungeon. You only throw those threats around when something is burning a hole in your brain. Is it because of the maiden? I am sure she will be back soon."

Dom slammed his palms flat on the desk, leaning forward. "She should be back already. That is the whole point here. And I should have already gotten the call confirming the diamonds were delivered."

Gideon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. I warned you this wasn't the right time to send those stones, but you refused to listen. Putting that aside, what the hell am I supposed to tell the nagging woman waiting on the phone? She isn't taking any of my excuses."

Dom groaned, the mention of his arranged marriage spiking his headache. The union was a sterile political contract, a desperate play to secure foreign trade routes and stabilize the Trevani markets. It had nothing to do with affection.

"Tell her whatever you want," Dom said, his voice dripping with pure disdain. "It is not like our union is some grand love match. She needs to stop trying so hard. If she keeps pushing my buttons, I might call off the wedding altogether. I hate pests."

Gideon raised his hands in surrender. "Message received loud and clear. I will handle it."

The advisor turned and left the chamber, leaving Dom alone with the deafening silence of the room.

Dom checked the clock one more time. The glowing numbers glared back at him. He let out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. The administrative stress of the crown was crushing him, but tonight, the intense worry for a single palace servant eclipsed it all. He paced back to the window, staring out into the vast, pitch-black kingdom. He just hoped nothing terrible had happened to the maiden out there in the cold. The lingering regret of leaving her unprotected gnawed at his conscience, eating away at him piece by piece.