The journey had blurred into a monotonous, bone-rattling haze. The only constant was Alex's worried glances, which did little to soothe the growing tension in my gut. When the carriage finally halted, the silence was more jarring than the months of endless motion. "We're here," came the hushed command.
My first glimpse of the palace was a moment of pure, bewildering spectacle. It was a masterpiece of opulence, its marble façade catching the moonlight in a way that didn't feel natural, but almost predatory. Delicate archways and intricately carved pillars seemed to ripple with a life of their own, and the golden domes shimmered with a light that had no earthly source. It was beautiful, but the sheer artificiality of its perfection prickled my skin. The air, despite the flowers, tasted sterile.
Inside, the palace was a symphony of soft, efficient sound. The rustle of maids' dresses, the muted clink of polishing cloths against crystal, and the faint, humming music from the hidden gardens blended into a single, hypnotic pulse. I found myself drawn to the tapestries, their ancient stories whispering of a past I didn't recognize yet felt I should. My focus snagged on the concealed symbols etched into the walls, a secret language that promised revelations on moonlit nights. I felt a phantom touch, a memory hovering just out of reach.
There were hidden symbols etched into the walls, said to hold the secrets of the palace's mysterious past. Some claimed that on certain nights, when the moon was full, the symbols would glow with a soft, ethereal light, revealing hidden passages and secret rooms.
A soldier's voice shattered the illusion. "The Queen of Ravoy Kingdom has arrived." A collective stillness fell over the maids. Their bowed heads and averted gazes spoke of practiced obedience, not respect. But through the curtain of dark hair, I saw a maid, a young woman around my age, stare at me. There was no pretense in her expression, only a raw, undisguised hatred that felt both specific and profound.
Her small frame seemed to bristle with indignation as she stood before me, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. Her gaze was like a cold slap, her pupils constricted with dislike. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her face pinched with distaste.
The crisp white apron wrapped around her waist seemed to symbolize her hard work and dedication, but her eyes told a different story. They spoke of resentment, of anger, and of a deep-seated dislike that seemed to burn within her. Her gaze never wavered, her eyes boring into mine with a piercing hatred that was both unsettling and unnerving.
Despite her small stature, she seemed to loom large, her presence radiating a fierce energy that was impossible to ignore. Her anger was palpable, and I could almost feel the weight of her resentment bearing down on me.
Alex's hand touched my arm. "Don't mind them," he murmured, his voice a low, placating rumble. "They are just jealous." The words offered no comfort. All the grand beauty of the palace felt like a thin sheet of ice over a freezing, bottomless lake. And I was standing right on top of it.