ANNA
I was rushed out of bed today to make the final arrangements for the King's guests. Don't ask me where the King himself is—I haven't seen him in weeks. It's not as if we ever cared about each other.
The preparations were almost complete: rooms assigned, daily necessities provided, everything in place to avoid the Queen's wrath. The guests would arrive in an hour. I remembered the Queen's instructions—to look presentable, but otherwise stay invisible.
The palace was unusually busy. Every hallway had servants either gossiping, cleaning, or just lounging around. My plan to stay unnoticed was clearly doomed. I hoped none of them were in the mood to start a fight—I was exhausted from dealing with matters that should never have concerned me in the first place.
Of course, I should have expected Cynthia to be here. Servants were idling, yet I didn't dare tell them what to do—they served the Queen, Elizabeth, or were Robert's whores. Chin high, shoulders straight, I walked toward my room.
"Anna!"
Oh, just what I needed. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Behind me, I heard footsteps hurrying. Before I could react, a shoe whizzed past my head. Not looking back, I continued on my way.
"Do I look like a joke to you?"
She grabbed my wrist and spun me around. I stared at her, bored and completely unfazed. Her rage must have spiked instantly. A mere servant—a Lady-in-Waiting—acting this bold. Perhaps one of Robert's whores, thinking she could climb higher by impressing the Queen.
"Do you know who I am?" she demanded. "I am your future Queen. A lowly servant like you will never understand." She stepped close, chest to chest, but I remained indifferent.
"Listen," I said evenly, keeping my temper in check. "I don't care who you are, but stay out of my fiancé's sight. If he ever mentions you again… I'll kill you myself. I don't know what he sees in someone as ugly as you, though."
Her mouth opened, probably to retort, but she knew better than to push me further. She sauntered off, hips swaying with confidence. I silently hoped she didn't break that waist before her own wedding night.
I had wasted enough time. Rita hadn't returned from the kitchen yet, so I dressed quickly, leaving enough time to avoid punishment.
THE QUEEN'S ROOM
"Why do you look so angry?" came the Queen's calm voice.
"What does he see in that wretched hag? I want her gone from this palace—if possible, this world!" Cynthia spat.
"All in good time, girl," the Queen said. "You know what to do. She is the only reason Elizabeth escapes this treacherous marriage. And you… you get to claim the place next to my son."
Cynthia's spirits lifted immediately. That filthy thing would regret ever crossing her.
ANNA
Thankfully, I reached the grand hall just as the Queen and King descended the staircase, arms linked. The announcement of the guests' arrival followed immediately.
The huge castle gates opened, revealing a black-and-gold carriage pulled by magnificent horses. We all gasped at the beauty, but returned to attention as the carriage halted. Bowing, we awaited the guests.
The first to exit walked confidently toward the royal family. I kept my head bowed, but I could tell he was dashing—though not the King. There was an imposing aura, but with a hint of playfulness.
Then the door swung open again. The King appeared. His presence alone sent a chill through the hall. Cloaked in mystery, he ignored the frightened servants as he approached the royal family. There was nothing friendly, nothing playful—just power and intimidation.
Once everything settled, I went to see Rita, who was busy in the kitchen. I offered help, but she refused until the chef yelled at us to be quiet. Nancy, the palace chef, had always been like a mother to me and Rita since my own mother's death. I smiled faintly, grateful for her presence.
Cynthia entered the kitchen, forbidden to most servants, and addressed everyone. "Since you are aware of the presence of the Northern delegation, I need not repeat myself."
A collective gasp ran through the room. Anyone daring to refer to a King—especially the notorious war god of Ares—by anything other than his title? Unthinkable. I remained calm.
She listed the servants assigned to the guests. I kept to my work, ignoring her—until she said Rita's name.
"Rita shall serve the Right Hand Man of the North." Cynthia paused, expecting a displeased reaction, but Rita merely bowed in respect.
I knew mine would follow next. And I knew trouble was comin