The entire palace buzzed with life as everyone prepared to welcome the long-gone lords of the castle. Wendy was eager to see them jumst like every other servant who had never laid eyes on the princes before. As they scrubbed the grand halls of the palace, a few overly excited maids stole moments to gossip.
"Hey, Wendy, ever wondered how the princes would look?" Cherlie, her friend, asked.
"Ma Morrie said they're very handsome, especially the eldest," Wendy replied as she dusted a large statue of the king holding a thin sword, with a missing jewel socketed at the hilt.
"Handsome is an understatement. Wait till you see the youngest," Ma Morrie one of the oldest slaves said. The others giggled. Wendy remembered Ma Zarina once telling her that the eldest prince never spared a glance from anything in skirts. But the younger prince… he was a mystery. Incredibly handsome but a merciless tyrant. Stories were whispered of his victory in battle at a young age the one who allegedly wiped out an entire village at fifteen and even killed his nanny at six. People feared him even in his absence.
"But isn't he the most dreaded? Even by the king, his father?" a nervous slave asked.
"He is. But the most divine child I ever laid eyes on," Ma Janna added. "His hair was so long and thick he could pull carts with it." The girls blushed at that.
"Child, you say?" Ma Morrie scoffed. "He'll be a greater killing machine than his father…"
The gossip ended abruptly when Liliana the head of new slaves walked in. Silence fell like a blade. She was older and pretty… but couldn't compare to Wendy. She hated Wendy for that very reason.
"It seems I ruined a great discussion," Liliana said coldly. She sauntered past Cherlie, heading straight toward Wendy. Wendy ignored her and kept cleaning. As Liliana passed, she shoved her shoulder. The brush fell to the floor.
"Oh… my mistake," she mocked, kicking the brush farther before walking away.
"She's just jealous," Cherlie muttered, retrieving the brush and placing it in Wendy's hand.
"It's obvious you're prettier," Ma Janna teased.
"And book-wormier," Cherlie added smugly.
Soon after, they finished cleaning. Everyone hurried off to their rooms to await the princes' entrance. Wendy shared her quarters with Cherlie, Ma Morrie, and Lia. She lay on her bed reading a book she had acquired from the Royal Library without permission. The library was sacred, but her curiosity was unstoppable. Once, she had told Ma Zarina that books were worth dying for.
"Hey!" Lia waved a hand in her face. Only then did Wendy realize they had been calling her.
"Oh sorry. What is it?" she asked.
"I told you, it's pointless talking to Wendy when she's got a book in her face," Cherlie sighed dramatically.
"Besides, where'd you get that book? The Royal Library, right?"
"I… I just borrowed it," Wendy muttered. Forbidden or not, she wasn't about to admit guilt.
Cherlie raised a brow. "I'm not stupid, stupid. I saw the stamp."
Everyone laughed.
"You know the penalty, especially now that the tyrant prince is returning," Ma Morrie warned.
Cherlie pretended to pout. "I can't bear to lose another family member." Wendy poked her lips, smiling.
Cherlie was like family. Two years younger, she reminded Wendy painfully of Carolyn. Cherlie was from the East, Wendy had lied and said she was too. No one knew who she truly was. It was dangerous to serve as a palace slave in the very place where her father had been murdered. Her home destroyed. Her family slaughtered. And here she was… working for the monsters responsible for all her suffering.
She hated how weak she was. Rosalyn would have taken revenge already—slayed the king and the demon-spawn he called sons. Only one person in the palace had recognized her: the oldest slave…
A trumpet blared sharply, yanking Wendy from the storm of her thoughts.
"They're here!" Lia and Cherlie squealed, rushing out. Ma Morrie only shivered in fear.
Servants shoved and strained to glimpse the returning princes. Wendy remained still.
"Presenting the apparent heir, Prince Lloyd!" the eunuch called.
The tall prince entered, dressed in elegant royal garments. Candlelight flickered, making his features hard to see.
"Oh my, he's dreamy," some maids giggled as he waved stiffly. Junior slaves scattered flowers along the carpet.
"Now let's see the devil," Cherlie whispered from beside Wendy.
"His Royal Highness… G-General Leo!" the eunuch stammered.
Silence drowned the hall.
Wendy's eyes lifted—only to collide with a pair of fiery green eyes filled with rage and something darker beneath. His hair was pinned high with gold. Massive. Clad in heavy war armor. His presence alone made breath feel optional.
Even the junior slaves froze—none dared shower him with flowers.
He was breathtaking.
So why was someone so divine… so terrifying?
---
Nightfall
Wendy lay awake, the prince's image burned into her mind. She needed to return the book before she became a casualty of his rumored wrath. Though, if she had to die… perhaps dying in his arms wouldn't be the worst fate…
She tiptoed from her room and crept up the spiral staircase to the library. She unlocked the door with a hairpin—something Carolyn once taught her. "A hairpin is the key to every door," she had said.
Silent as a snake, Wendy slipped inside. She returned the borrowed book to its rightful shelf. Just as she turned to leave, two other books caught her attention: an ancient historical tome at the corner… and a charming romantic novel right before her.
"Oh no you don't, Wendy," she scolded herself aloud, resisting temptation.
Then—cold fingers clamped onto her shoulder.
A chill devoured every inch of her skin.
She had been caught.
---