The ugly past

The palace was in an uproar.

Michael's announcement had shattered the fragile web of expectations woven by the noble families. Gasps had filled the grand hall, ladies clutched their pearls, and a few of the more dramatic duchesses had nearly fainted on the spot.

A maid?

A commoner?

The future queen?

It was unthinkable.

Lylie, meanwhile, was still trying to process the absolute absurdity of her life. One minute, she was scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain on the floor. The next, she was being chosen—as if she were some fruit at the market—by the most feared ruler in the kingdom.

And now?

Now she was being dragged by a pair of palace guards toward the royal chambers, with the queen mother and her attendants trailing behind in barely contained panic.

"Your Majesty, I beg you to reconsider," one of the queen mother's ladies-in-waiting whispered urgently. "This girl is—"

"A maid?" Lylie finished, tossing a glance over her shoulder. "Yes, we've established that. Repeating it won't change anything."

The woman gawked at her audacity.

The queen mother, however, was far more composed. Her sharp gaze flicked toward Lylie, taking her in as if she were some unruly child that needed taming. "You will undergo immediate training. If you are to stand beside my son, you will act accordingly."

Lylie raised a brow. "So I don't get a say in this?"

Maghret gave her a thin smile. "Did you ever?"

Lylie opened her mouth—then closed it.

Well.

She did technically say yes, didn't she?

Why did I do that again?

Ah, right. Because she was an idiot.

Also, because Michael had practically dared her to.

And Lylie never backed down from a challenge.

Still, she was starting to suspect that maybe, just maybe, she should have thought this through a little more.

The guards led her into a massive chamber—one that made Princess Ayanna's room look like a broom closet in comparison. The walls were adorned with velvet drapes, gold accents glimmered in the candlelight, and an enormous bed sat in the center, its deep crimson canopy exuding an air of undeniable royalty.

Lylie wrinkled her nose. "This is not my aesthetic."

The queen mother pinched the bridge of her nose. "You will remain here until we can make you presentable."

Lylie blinked. "Excuse me?"

Maghret's expression remained perfectly poised. "Lessons will begin at dawn. You will be taught the etiquette of a queen, the history of the kingdom, the expectations of royal duty—"

Lylie held up a hand. "I feel like you're under the impression that I actually want to do this."

Maghret's lips curled in the smallest smirk. "You agreed to it, did you not?"

Lylie scowled. "I did, but—"

"Then you will act like it."

Before Lylie could fire back, the queen mother turned and swept out of the room, her ladies-in-waiting following like perfectly trained birds.

The door shut behind them.

Lylie exhaled dramatically. "Well. That went well."

A deep chuckle echoed from the shadows.

Lylie stiffened.

Slowly, she turned.

And there he was.

Michael.

The ruthless king.

The maniac who had just turned her life upside down.

He leaned lazily against the tall window, the dim candlelight casting sharp shadows across his face. His dark robes blended into the night, but his piercing gaze was locked solely on her.

Lylie swallowed.

"Are you enjoying this?" she accused.

Michael tilted his head. "Immensely."

Lylie threw up her hands. "Fantastic! Glad to hear someone's having fun!"

Michael pushed away from the window, his movements fluid and deliberate as he strode toward her. He didn't stop until he was far too close, his towering presence a stark reminder of exactly who he was.

Lylie forced herself to hold her ground.

"You agreed to this," he murmured.

She huffed. "You tricked me into agreeing."

Michael smirked. "Did I?"

Lylie scowled. "Obviously!"

Michael studied her for a long moment. Then, in a voice far too amused, he said, "Tell me. Are you afraid?"

Lylie scoffed. "Of you? Please. I've dealt with worse."

Michael's gaze flickered—just slightly. "Have you?"

Lylie crossed her arms. "What, surprised? You think all peasants live simple, carefree lives?" She rolled her eyes. "Royalty really is clueless."

Michael's smirk faded.

For a moment, something unreadable flickered behind his gaze.

Then, as if snapping out of it, he turned and strode toward the door. "Your training begins tomorrow."

Lylie groaned. "Great. Can't wait to learn how to sip tea like a lady."

Michael paused at the threshold.

Then, without looking back, he murmured, "Good."

And with that, he was gone.

Lylie flopped onto the ridiculously oversized bed.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

*******

A knock sounded at the door.

Lylie spun around just as it opened, revealing none other than Princess Ayanna.

The princess grinned. "Well, this is unexpected."

Lylie threw her hands up. "Oh, is it? Because I certainly didn't expect to be engaged when I woke up this morning!"

Ayanna laughed. "Oh, trust me, no one saw this coming. Least of all Michael."

Lylie scowled. "Well, he has a funny way of proposing."

Ayanna shrugged. "At least he didn't execute you."

Lylie glared. "Oh, great! I should be grateful, then?"

Ayanna's grin widened. "You really are something else."

Lylie groaned, flopping onto the bed. "This is a nightmare."

The princess walked over and sat beside her. "You know, I think this is the first time I've ever seen my brother genuinely interested in something."

Lylie shot her a look. "I am not a thing."

"No, but you are different." Ayanna smirked. "And my brother? He hates being bored. You? You're the least boring person I've ever met."

Lylie sighed, running a hand down her face. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well," Ayanna mused, "you could run."

Lylie blinked.

"...What?"

Ayanna leaned in, lowering her voice. "If you really don't want this, you could escape. Tonight. Before the engagement is officially announced."

Lylie's heart skipped.

Run.

She could run.

She could leave.

No more royal madness. No more Michael. No more stepping into a life that wasn't hers.

But...

She thought of Malvin. His hands possessively and roughly roaming around her body like he owned her and she couldn't stop him.

She thought of her stepmother, her father, her old life.

And suddenly, the golden cage didn't seem so bad.

She exhaled slowly. "No."

Ayanna raised a brow. "No?"

Lylie clenched her jaw. "I'll stay."

Ayanna's smirk returned. "Good."

Lylie frowned. "What do you mean, good?"

Ayanna patted her on the back. "Because I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting."

And Lylie?

Lylie had a very bad feeling she was right.