Reborn To Change My Fate

Chapter 357 - Three Hundred And Fifty Six

After the beautiful coronation ceremony at the High Cathedral, the celebration moved back to the royal palace. There was a massive banquet.

The palace doors were thrown open to everyone. Food and drinks were surplus. There were huge roasted pigs, long tables filled with fresh fruits, warm sweet breads, and barrels of rich red wine. Even the common people waiting outside the massive palace gates were not left out. The new King had ordered the royal guards to bring tables out into the city squares. Everyone in the kingdom, from the richest lord to the poorest farmer, ate enough good food with the King and Queen today.

Inside the grand banquet hall, the atmosphere was loud and joyful. Bright crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, lighting up the room like the midday sun. Musicians played fast, happy songs in the corner.

The nobles were celebrating. They wore their finest silk clothes and shiny jewels. They walked around the room with silver cups in their hands, constantly toasting to the new rulers. They laughed, they danced, and they drank deeply, relieved that the dark days of Prince Liam’s treason were finally over.

Derek and Marissa sat at the very front of the hall. They sat in their respective large, golden chairs up on the raised dais. They had their own private table covered in the finest foods.

Derek was not wearing his heavy golden crown anymore; he had placed it on a silk pillow next to his plate. He looked incredibly relaxed. For the first time in many months, the heavy, dark worry was completely gone from his face. He smiled openly, his dark eyes shining with pure happiness as he looked at the woman sitting beside him.

Marissa looked stunning in her white and gold dress. She felt a deep, warm peace in her chest. She watched the nobles dancing, but her attention always returned to her husband.

They did not act like stiff, formal royals. They acted like a young, deeply in love couple.

Derek picked up a small, sweet piece of fruit with his fingers. He turned to Marissa and gently fed it to her, his fingers brushing her soft lips.

Marissa smiled, chewing the sweet fruit. She picked up a warm piece of spiced meat with her silver fork. She reached over and fed him too. Derek leaned forward and ate it from her fork, keeping his eyes locked entirely on hers.

They shared private smiles and quiet jokes, completely lost in their own happy world, ignoring the hundreds of people watching them.

The happiness, the loud music, and the joy lasted till the late evening.

Slowly, the candles began to burn low. The music slowed down to a quiet, peaceful tune. Everyone began to disperse. The nobles bowed respectfully to the dais before turning and heading home to their own estates. The servants began to clear the empty plates and wine cups.

Derek was already very drunk.

He had spent the entire evening accepting toasts from generals and lords. He had drank cup after cup of strong red wine. Now, he was leaning heavily against the back of his golden chair. His eyes were half-closed, and a lazy, happy smile was plastered across his face.

Marissa looked at him and chuckled softly. She stood up from her chair and walked over to him. She gently touched his shoulder.

"My King," Marissa whispered playfully. "I think it is time for you to go to bed."

Derek looked up at her. He reached out and grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles clumsily. "I will follow you anywhere, my Queen," he mumbled, his words slurring slightly.

Marissa knew she could not carry his heavy, muscular body by herself. She turned her head and called for Ian, who was standing quietly in the shadows near the edge of the dais.

"Ian," Marissa called out.

The trusted shadow guard stepped forward immediately. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Help me carry him to his room," Marissa instructed, pointing at her smiling, drunk husband.

Ian nodded. He walked up the steps and gently pulled Derek’s arm over his own broad shoulder. He wrapped his other arm firmly around Derek’s waist. Derek groaned happily and leaned his heavy weight against Ian.

"Let us go, Your Majesty," Ian said patiently, easily supporting the King.

They walked slowly out of the quiet banquet hall. Marissa followed them closely behind. She held her heavy silk skirts up slightly so she would not trip on the long, carpeted corridors of the royal palace.

As they walked toward the King’s private wing, Marissa noticed something strange. She noticed some maids were walking quietly behind them. There were four of them, dressed in neat, formal palace uniforms. They followed at a respectful distance, their hands folded in front of them.

Marissa frowned slightly, wondering why they needed so many maids late at night, but she did not say anything yet.

They finally got to the heavy, carved oak door of the King’s main bedchamber. Two royal guards stood outside, opening the doors wide as they approached.

Ian entered the room first, carefully carrying the drunk and sleepy Derek toward the massive bed in the center of the room.

Marissa stepped forward. She wanted to enter the room to help take off his heavy boots and make sure he was comfortable. She was his wife. It was a normal thing for her to do.

But as she reached the doorway, the four maids quickly stepped in front of her. They formed a line, blocking her path politely but firmly.

"Your Majesty," the head maid said. She was an older woman with a very strict, serious face. She bowed her head, but she did not move out of the way. "I am afraid it won’t be proper to enter."

Marissa stopped completely. She blinked in surprise. She looked at the head maid, genuinely confused.

Marissa frowned. "Why not?" she asked. "That is my husband. He is drunk and needs to rest."

The head maid kept her hands folded neatly. She looked at Marissa with a calm, traditional expression. She was used to the old, strict rules of the palace, rules that King Alistair and his own Queen had always followed.

The head maid replied in a formal tone. "You are not meant to enter His Majesty’s room without being called on. It is the palace tradition. The King has his private chambers, and the Queen has hers."

The maid lowered her voice slightly, trying to be polite about private matters. "And during intimacy, he would come to your bedchamber to fulfill his duties as a husband. A Queen does not walk into the King’s room uninvited."

Marissa stared at the woman. For a few seconds, her mind completely blanked. The rule was absolutely ridiculous. She and Derek had shared a bed, shared secrets, and shared a life. They had survived death together. The idea that she needed a formal invitation to check on the man she loved was completely absurd.

Marissa nodded slowly. She did not yell. She just looked at the head maid.

"I see," Marissa said quietly. She lifted her hand and began touching her chin in a thoughtful gesture.

She looked past the maids, seeing Ian lay Derek gently on the bed inside the room. Derek was already snoring softly.

"Seems I will have to tell Derek to abolish this law too," Marissa stated casually, as if she were talking about changing the color of the curtains.

The maids widened their eyes in pure shock. Abolish a royal palace tradition? Just like that? They looked at the new Queen as if she had grown a second head. They did not understand that to Marissa, her marriage was far more important than any old, dusty book of rules.

Marissa dropped her hand from her chin. She looked closely at the four women blocking her door.

Marissa spoke, her voice turning slightly sharper. "What are you all doing here? The banquet is over. The King is asleep. Why did you follow us?"

The head maid quickly recovered from her shock. She straightened her back, proud of her high position in the palace.

The head maid replied confidently. "Now that he is the King, we have been assigned to serve his personal needs. We are his royal attendants."

The maid gestured toward the room. "We bathe him. We dress him. We lay out his clothes, and we get him ready for the day or night. We were just coming in to wash him and change him into his nightclothes."

Marissa’s body went completely still.

The warm, happy feeling from the banquet vanished instantly. A sudden, sharp wave of possessiveness and anger flared up in her chest.

She looked at the four maids. She imagined these women putting their hands on Derek’s bare skin. She imagined them washing his chest, touching his back, looking at his body.

Absolutely not, Marissa thought to herself.

She nodded slowly, a dark, dangerous look entering her eyes.

"Oh," Marissa said. Her voice was very soft, but it sounded like the calm right before a terrible storm. "But I am afraid you can’t do that."

The head maid looked confused. "Pardon me, Your Majesty?"

Marissa took one slow step forward. The maids instinctively took a small step back.

"He is my husband," Marissa stated clearly, emphasizing every single word. "And I am the only one allowed to touch him. No other woman will bathe him. No other woman will dress him. Do you understand?"

The head maid hesitated. She was torn between the old palace rules and the scary look in the new Queen’s eyes.

"But..." the head maid stammered. "It is our duty, Your Majesty. The King must be prepared by the staff—"

Marissa’s face turned ice cold.

All the warmth and joy completely left her features. She looked exactly like the fierce, terrifying Grand Duchess who held the Thompson’s estate in an iron fist. Her dark eyes bored into the head maid’s soul, carrying an absolute, undeniable authority.

"I don’t like repeating myself," Marissa said. Her voice was like a sharp steel blade cutting through the quiet hallway.

She glared at the four women, daring them to argue with her one more time.

"You can ask those that served in the Thompson’s estate," Marissa advised them coldly. "They will tell you exactly what happens when someone disobeys my direct orders regarding my husband. Those rules do not apply here anymore. My rules apply."

The head maid swallowed hard. The other three maids trembled slightly. They looked at the cold, unyielding face of Queen Marissa and suddenly realized they were making a terrible mistake. This was not a soft, quiet Queen they could control with tradition. This was a woman who commanded fear and respect.

The maids were afraid. They realized their jobs, and perhaps their lives, depended on their next action.

Without saying another word, all four maids quickly dropped their heads. They bowed deeply and respectfully, showing their total submission to her command.

"Draw me a bath," Marissa ordered sharply, looking at the youngest maid. "In his washroom. Make the water warm. Then, all of you, leave this wing immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the maids answered in unison, their voices shaking slightly.

The maids quickly moved out of the doorway, pressing themselves flat against the walls of the corridor to give her plenty of space.

Marissa did not look at them again. She lifted her chin proudly, adjusted her heavy silk skirts, and walked straight through the doorway.

She entered the King’s bedchamber.

She closed the heavy oak doors behind her with a loud, final click, locking the rest of the world and their stupid rules outside.