Rita made it back to our room. The lines of thought were clear on her face as she paced quietly.
"What could they possibly be planning?" she finally asked.
I found it suspicious as well. Why assign her to such duties when there were countless other maids? For me, nothing came as a surprise anymore—my mind was always open to the worst possibilities. With Cynthia's schemes, Elizabeth's jealousy, and the queen's cruelty, things could unravel very quickly.
"We have to be careful," I said after a moment. "Prepared for anything. Any drama that may unfold."
It was the best advice I could give.
"The man you'll be serving doesn't seem easy to please," I added. "No matter how unreasonable he becomes, try not to lose your temper."
I still remembered how close she'd come to death after standing up to a noble guest once.
Rita looked at me for a long moment before standing.
"Look at you—worrying about me," she said softly. "When you're the one standing closest to danger."
She headed for the door. I followed in silence.
My assignment was clear: serve the King in the grand dining hall, ensure his chambers were ready, prepare his bath and night clothes. Nothing more. I had to avoid any situation that left us alone in enclosed spaces. I would not give Elizabeth—or anyone—an excuse to accuse me of trying to seduce her future husband.
As if my reputation wasn't already ruined enough.
We slipped into the grand dining hall through the servants' entrance.
The moment I stepped inside, memories crashed into me all at once—of a life that had once been warm, gentle, full of laughter. My eyes burned with tears, but I forced them back. This was not the time.
I had plans. Rita and I would escape once I turned twenty-one—in just a few days. Freedom was close. I could almost taste it.
For years, I had buried memories of my childhood because comparing who I was then to who I was now hurt too much. I avoided places like this whenever I could. But when memories surfaced, I realized something I had ignored for far too long.
My father had never truly been present.
He treated us as responsibilities—nothing more. He never laughed with us, never spoke privately, never lingered. Yet before the council and the people, he and my mother played the role of a loving couple perfectly. As a child, I had often caught sadness in my mother's eyes whenever my father was near.
The grand doors opening pulled me from my thoughts.
I immediately lowered my head as my gaze brushed my father's. I wasn't ready to dissect my feelings about him—not yet.
They took their seats.
Moments later, the King of the North was announced.
When he entered with his entourage, that same authoritative aura swept through the hall. My posture straightened instinctively. Nearly everyone reacted—except Rita. She maintained perfect composure, her expression unreadable as always.
Even King Ronald took time to recover before motioning for us to begin serving.
I took my position beside the King of Ares.
He was still cloaked completely.
Was he hiding something hideous?
Enough.
I served him carefully, bowed, and stepped back. His presence carried menace—but today, there was something else. Annoyance. And beneath it, an unsettling hint of playfulness.
I didn't need to wonder why for long.
At his side sat his right-hand man—far too cheerful for someone serving death incarnate. He looked… content.
I must have lingered too close, lost in my observations, because the voice I despised most snapped me back to reality.
"You do not intend to stand behind my king for the entirety of the meal, do you?"
Elizabeth's voice pierced my ears.
I bowed quickly and stepped back to join Rita and the other servants. Elizabeth had much to say, I was sure—but she restrained herself, focusing instead on appearing flawless in her attempt to charm him.
Such a child.
She didn't realize her efforts changed nothing. Decisions like his were made long before arriving here.
The rest of the meal passed smoothly. Marriage arrangements were discussed openly. Elizabeth smiled when necessary, but her eyes told another story.
Once dinner ended, we cleared the hall and gave the royals privacy.
Outside the doors, I finally released a breath.
"Anaa."
I turned sharply.
Cynthia stood behind me, arms full of towels—an unusual sight. Her steps were hurried, her face flushed. As she reached me, she stumbled, the towels spilling to the floor.
She gasped softly, gathered them quickly, and thrust the bundle into my arms.
I caught them, tilting my head in confusion. She looked breathless—almost frantic.
"What are these for?" I asked.
She took a few sharp breaths before speaking.
"I was informed the king's chambers lack towels. I intended to deliver them myself, but since you are serving him, you will take them instead."
She turned and walked away just as abruptly.
Strange.
I couldn't stand there questioning it. I headed straight to the bathing chambers to put the towels away. I shook them gently to remove dust from the fall.
Then I smelled it.
Faint at first. Familiar.
I sniffed the first towel. Nothing. The second. The third—only traces.
Then the fourth.
The scent hit me violently.
My head spun. The room tilted. My steps faltered.
I knew it instantly.
I had been drugged.
Now I understood Cynthia's haste. Her flushed face. Her panic.
This was her plan.
"BAM!"
I jumped, startled.
Had the King returned already?
My heart raced as the dizziness worsened.
Now I was—