Hushed voices in the dimly lit room stir me awake, but I don't get up. I stay still, pretending to be asleep.
"So it's decided then, she'll be going to live there."
A shiver runs down my spine. Who is going? Where? I shug at the words, pull the thin blanket tighter, burrowing into the darkness until I drift back to sleep.
"Griselda. Zelda. Wake up."
I rub my eyes open to see my brother Alan's face inches from mine, his expression grim. He helps me sit up and hands me a cup of water, which I gulp down, my eyes fixed on his.
"What's wrong, Al?" I ask, as a sense of dread pools in my stomach.
His eyes well with tears. "I promise you, this won't be for long. You won't spend your life there, not as a mere maid. I'll do something, anything, to make our lives comfortable. I swear it." His voice cracks. "Just know that I don't support this. I never did. I'll work harder, from sunrise to sunset, and together we'll run away. Yes, we'll run away to a better place where I can give you the comfortable life you deserve. You don't deserve this, Zelda..."
My heart thumps as I stare at him in total confusion.
"I'm not going anywhere, Al…" I start to say, but my words are cut short by a slamming door.
My father storms in, his face a mask of rage. "Get your stupid self up and get outside!" he roars. "The Garcia's guard is waiting! Your bags are packed, so just get up and leave!"
I flinch at his shouting. My mind struggles to catch up. The harsh treatment, the anger always directed at me, that's normal. But this? The question why? screams in my mind.
"She's not going anywhere!" Alan shouts, jumping up to stand in front of me, shielding me with his body.
"Alan, stay out of this!" my father spits. "We've discussed this. Having this girl here is just another mouth to feed and..."
"You've taken care of her for all these years!" Alan fires back. "What's a few more? She'll be married or able to support herself soon enough!"
My father glares at him, a look of pure hatred in his eyes. He grabs my arm and yanks me up, dragging me toward the door. I struggle, but his grip is firm like iron.
Outside, I see my mother silently weeping, her shoulders shaking. I break free for a moment, running to her. "Mother, what's happening?" I plead, grabbing her arm.
My father immediately snatches me back, pushing me away from her. "We've decided you're an extra burden," he snarls, his voice dripping with venom. "So we've sold you off to the Royal family. It's the most appropriate way to get rid of you and make a fortune. It's killing two birds with one stone, isn't it?"
He shakes my limp body as the words sink in.
Sold?
Tears well up in my eyes. I look at my mother, who quickly averts her gaze. Her eyes are puffy and red. Then, I look at Alan, whose knuckles are clenched and teeth are gritted as he stares at my father with an intensity that could kill. Finally, my gaze lands on my father, and the tears flow freely. Since I was old enough to understand, I've known he doesn't like me. But to sell me? The hatred is deeper than I ever imagined.
A guard opens a carriage door and gestures for me to get inside. I'm in a daze, unable to fully comprehend what's happening. I don't even hear what Alan says as he gives me a quick kiss on my forehead. I step into the carriage, my eyes locked on my family as we start to move. I watch them and the villagers and passersby staring at us, until they disappear from view. My head drops, and silent tears stream down my face.
"Don't cry for those who don't deserve it, dummy."
The voice startles me. I slowly lift my head to see a man with an imposing presence seated across from me. His light blue eyes are the calmest I've ever seen, reminding me of the sea.
High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and perfectly combed hair with a few strands falling across his forehead, he looks like perfection itself. My gaze drifts down to his royal blue coat, where a golden embroidery of a horse with raised hooves shines on his chest. The Royal family's insignia.
My eyes linger on his lips for a moment before I catch him watching me, his eyes narrowed slightly. I swallow hard and quickly turn to stare out the window.
I can feel his gaze on me for a few more seconds before he shifts his attention to a paper on his lap. Without looking up, he asks, "What's your name?"
"Zelda… Griselda Capell," I answer, my voice trembling. I nervously fidget with the nightdress I'm still wearing, the one I didn't have time to change out of. The memory of my father dragging me out makes my knuckles clench.
"You shouldn't get so hung up on things and people of no relevance, Griselda," he says calmly, his eyes still glued to the paper.
"What?" I snap, my head whipping up to look at him.
He ignores my question, exhales softly, and begins. "The Queen's maid was caught stealing and executed, leaving the position vacant. Your father approached us, intending to sell you as the Prince's mistress, a maid, or for whatever use we saw fit. The Royal family bought you. You are now their property and will be working for the queen as her temporary maid."
My fists clench again. The thought that my father would sell me as a mistress fills me with a hot surge of anger. Tears burn in my eyes as I turn back to the window.
"Those feelings will lead you nowhere, so perish them. Anger, sadness, revenge... whatever it may be, get rid of it," he says without a glance in my direction. With trembling lips, I keep my eyes on the window, searching for an outlet for my emotions. With muffled cries, I mumble an incomprehensible "okay."
The ride to the royal residence is long. The carriage moves swiftly, avoiding potholes. It must have been two hours. I yawn from hunger, my head leaning against the window and my fingers fumbling with a loose thread on my dress.
He glances up at my yawn and continues scribbling. After a few minutes, he taps on the window, and the carriage comes to a halt. My eyes fly open. He tosses an apple and a wrapped piece of bread smeared with butter to me, then places a canteen of water on the seat beside me.
"Eat this and stretch your legs a bit before we continue," he says, opening the carriage door and stepping out, not waiting for a response. I drink some water, then gobble down the food, desperate for a moment of peace.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at a narrow path lined with trimmed flowers, leading to a massive gate. The carriage slows, and moments later, the gates swing open to reveal a magnificent castle. It's not just big, it's glorious. The sun reflects off its creamy white stone, making it seem to glow.
The grounds are spacious, filled with carefully manicured lawns, colourful flower beds, and an ornate fountain situated in the middle.
The carriage stops abruptly at the main entrance. A guard runs forward to open the door, while another stands beside him, both with their heads bowed.
The man in the carriage steps out with a stylish, effortless grace, and I follow him. He walks straight toward the entrance, but I hesitate, unsure of what to do. He stops and speaks to a waiting butler. I can't make out the words and then he continue inside without a second glance.
"Follow me," the butler says, and I quickly obey.