3. Ariana

CHAPTER 3

ARIANA

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I need to finish this job, even if the shift is excruciatingly long. But I’m finding myself exhausted after just three hours of work. These people are very demanding of their appetizers and drinks, and I’m rushing back and forth to the kitchen every few minutes.

The tray wobbles in my hands, the glasses clinking ominously. My vision blurs for a moment, and I sway on my feet. No dinner and barely a lunch, Ariana. What were you thinking? The room spins, and I trip over my own feet, stumbling forward. The tray tilts, and the drinks threaten to spill.

Strong fingers grip my arm, steadying me. My heart pounds as I look up and meet Valen’s intense green eyes. I swallow hard, thinking it's all over. I screwed up in front of the man of the house, and now I'm going to be sent home without pay.

"Careful," he says, his voice a deep rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand feels strange on my skin—warmer than expected, almost electric.

"I—I'm so sorry," I stammer, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I didn't mean to?—"

"No harm done," he interrupts smoothly, his grip firm but not painful. I can't stop thinking about the feeling of his bare skin on mine. It's not like anything I've ever felt before. I wonder if there's something about kilgari skin that interacts with human skin. I'm too flustered and embarrassed to even consider asking, though.

"Take a break," Valen suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He gestures to a passing servant. "Get the head butler."

My heart hammers in my chest. "Really, I’m fine," I protest weakly, though my knees feel like jelly.

Valen's gaze pierces me, and he raises an eyebrow. "You nearly fainted carrying a tray. That's not 'fine.'"

The head butler arrives, his face pinched with disapproval. "Sir?"

"She needs water and a few moments to collect herself," Valen orders, his grip on my arm loosening but still supportive.

The butler’s eyes narrow slightly. "Of course, sir." He turns to me with a forced smile. "This way.”

"Thank you," I stammer, directing it more towards Valen than the butler. The words feel inadequate for his unexpected kindness.

Valen's nod is curt, but his eyes linger on me for a moment longer than necessary. It's as if he's searching for something in my face. Then he turns away, already being pulled back into the throng of guests.

The butler leads me through the maze of hallways to the servant's quarters, grumbling under his breath about 'disruptions' and 'inefficiency.' The contrast between the opulent rooms we've left and the sparse servant’s area is stark.

He hands me a glass of water with a sigh. "Drink this quickly and get back to work," he says, clearly irritated.

I take a grateful sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe my parched throat. "I really appreciate it," I say softly.

His expression doesn't soften. "Don't make this a habit."

I nod quickly, taking another gulp of water. The reality of what just happened starts to settle in. Valen had noticed me—really noticed me—and cared enough to ensure I was okay. It was bewildering.

"Feeling better?" The butler's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, thank you," I say, handing back the empty glass.

He nods curtly and gestures towards the door. "Then back to work."

I hurry back towards the main hall, determined not to let this small incident define my night—or worse, cost me my job. But as I move through the crowded room once more, I can’t help but replay Valen's words in my mind: Take a break.

There's something different about him. He's not like the other wealthy patrons I've encountered—aloof and dismissive. His concern felt genuine, almost protective.

I glance around, trying to spot him again amidst the guests. He stands out easily with his golden skin and imposing presence, effortlessly commanding attention even from across the room.

And then our eyes meet briefly before he's pulled into another conversation by an eager guest.

A shiver runs down my spine as I turn back to my duties, trying to focus on the tasks at hand despite my swirling thoughts.

Valen is an enigma wrapped in authority and kindness—a combination that's both intimidating and incredibly alluring.

I'm drawn to him in ways I can't quite explain yet desperately need to understand.

And that scares me more than anything else tonight.

I push thoughts of Valen aside and focus on the task at hand. Trays of delicate canapés, crystal glasses filled with bubbling champagne—there's no room for distraction. I weave through the guests, my movements precise and practiced. But it’s impossible to ignore the murmurs that float through the air.

"Did you hear about Valen?" a woman in a sequined gown whispers to her companion, a man in an overly ornate uniform.

"I heard he’s been having affairs left and right," the man replies, his voice dripping with disdain. "With humans, no less."

I roll my eyes internally but keep my expression neutral. These people thrive on scandal like it's oxygen.

Another pair of guests catch my ear as I refill their glasses. "They say he’s been selling subpar fuel to Alliance ships," a balding man says, his voice low but conspiratorial.

"Typical," his companion sniffs, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Cutting corners for profit."

I suppress a snort. As if these rumors will travel any further than this room. The wealthy love to gossip, but they rarely care about the truth. Still, it's hard not to let the words gnaw at me, knowing they're talking about someone who showed me kindness.

“Excuse me,” I say softly, slipping between two groups and collecting empty glasses from a nearby table.

One of the guests glances down at me, his eyebrows raising as if noticing me for the first time. “And what do you think of our host?” he asks with a smirk.

“I think he’s very generous to have us all here,” I reply diplomatically, avoiding his probing gaze. I am, after all, meant to be invisible.

“Generous?” another guest scoffs. “You mean cunning.”

My jaw tightens, but I manage a polite smile before moving away. The last thing I need is to get into an argument with these people.

As I continue working, snippets of conversation reach my ears—each one more ridiculous than the last.

“He’s probably got bodies buried under this estate.”

“I bet he pays off inspectors to look the other way.”

“They say his wealth comes from smuggling.”

The more I hear, the more absurd it sounds. They don’t know him at all. I don’t know him either, but at least I’m not making wild assumptions based on hearsay.

I make my way back to the kitchen area, setting down an empty tray and picking up another laden with fresh drinks. My colleague Amelia catches my eye and raises an eyebrow.

“Heard anything interesting?” she asks with a wry grin.

“Only if you count baseless gossip as interesting,” I reply dryly.

Amelia chuckles. “Ah, the lifeblood of high society.”

“More like poison,” I mutter under my breath before heading back out into the fray.

The party continues in its glittering haze, and I lose myself in the rhythm of serving—collecting empties, refilling glasses, dodging clumsy guests who’ve had one too many. It’s almost enough to keep my mind off Valen’s penetrating gaze and warm touch.

Almost.

But every time I catch a glimpse of him across the room, those thoughts come rushing back—along with questions that refuse to be silenced.

The party begins to wind down, the chatter and laughter slowly ebbing away. I busy myself with collecting dishes and trash, moving through the room with practiced efficiency. My feet ache, but I push the discomfort aside.

Amelia sidles up next to me, balancing a stack of plates. “Quite the night, huh?”

I nod, though my mind is elsewhere. “Yeah, quite the night.”

Valen’s touch still lingers on my skin, an imprint I can’t shake off. His presence dominated the room while he was here, and now it dominates my thoughts.

We continue working in silence for a few moments before Amelia speaks again. “So... what’s your take on him?”

I glance at her sideways. “Who?”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Valen. The golden-skinned enigma with horns and smoldering eyes.”

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. “He’s... different.”

“Different how?” she presses.

“Different as in not like anyone else I’ve met,” I say carefully.

“Good different or bad different?” Amelia asks, clearly intrigued.

“I don’t know yet,” I admit.

The sound of glass shattering breaks our conversation. Another maid curses under her breath as she bends to pick up the pieces.

“I’ll help,” Amelia says quickly and moves towards the commotion.

Left alone for a moment, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The evening air is cooler now that most guests have left, but my thoughts are anything but calm.

Valen is gone now, but his presence still clings to every corner of this estate. He’s unlike anyone else—aloof yet attentive, brooding yet kind in unexpected ways.

I collect another round of empty glasses, stacking them carefully on my tray. As I move through the dimming room, snippets of earlier conversations replay in my mind—the rumors about him being ruthless in business or involved in shady dealings.

But then there’s the man who steadied me when I was about to fall—the one who saw me when no one else did.

My heart flutters at the memory of his touch and those piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through me.

Cautious or not, it’s impossible to deny this attraction between us—an attraction that feels both dangerous and inevitable.

But for now, all I can do is wait—and see where this unexpected connection with Valen leads next.