“I need tea for my Queen,” she mumbled. Though she portrayed humility outwardly, her eyes were fierce and cold.
Sam smiled nervously. “Sure. Um, is your Queen the Queen of Astoria? Queen Satella, right?”
She didn’t respond. Instead. She took the tea held by Sam, and immediately left.
The days flew past. No more murders had occurred. On one night, a month later, Sam sat quietly in the kitchens. He had a book propped up on the window sill and was reading by the light of the full moon. A tray with tea rested on the counter next to him. Every night, Sam would stay up, waiting for the mysterious girl. They had fallen into a habit. She would walk in, take the tray. Sam would attempt to start a conversation, but the girl would walk out without speaking.
Tonight, it was already two in the morning. Sam sighed, wondering what was holding up the girl. He decided to go to bed for now, leaving the cooling tea on the counter, and walked out into the halls. He looked down the hall, and froze. A huge beast, around eight feet tall, stood in the flickering torchlight. Its white fur gleamed. Sharp fangs protruded from its gaping mouth, and a tufted tail was swishing from side to side. Its ears twitched, hearing Sam’s footsteps. Sam felt like he was glued to the ground, unable to move, petrified by fear. Only when the beast began turning did he scream and dash in the
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