The knife, the maid, and the Drama

Chapter 16 – The Knife, the Maid, and the Drama**

A knock at the door.

I stirred, groggy but alert, already on edge. My eyes flickered open, absorbing the golden hue of morning light filtering through heavy drapes. I sat up slowly, muscles stiff from uneasy sleep.

"Come in," I said, rubbing my eyes.

The door creaked open, and a maid stepped inside, her posture demure, head bowed.

"Good morning, my princess."

"Good morning... uh, what's your name?" I asked, blinking at the unfamiliar girl.

"My name is Thalia, my princess," she replied, her smile sweet but nervous.

"Nice meeting you, Thalia. I haven't seen you before."

"I was assigned to be your personal maid, my princess."

A personal maid? That sounded like a gilded cage. First I was dragged here against my will—now I had a shadow?

I nodded wordlessly, already exhausted by the palace's suffocating customs.

"My princess, let me prepare your bath."

"Sure," I replied flatly, feigning grace.

She disappeared behind the bathroom door. I stared at the ceiling until she returned a few minutes later.

"My princess, your bath is ready."

Steam curled out as I stepped into the warm water, letting it soothe my skin. It was indulgent—too indulgent. It reminded me of the chains hidden beneath satin.

After bathing, Thalia was waiting with two gowns draped carefully over her arms—both shimmering like moonlight.

"Which do you prefer, my princess?"

"Don't you have pants?" I asked, tilting my head. "Something... less frilly?"

"You mean… men's clothes?" Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yeah. Way more comfortable."

She hesitated. "It's not proper, my princess. I don't think the king will be happy if I dress you like a man."

I rolled my eyes. "Let him be unhappy."

"Please, my princess…" she whispered, visibly anxious.

I sighed. "Fine. The purple one."

The dress was soft and regal, but wearing it felt like playing dress-up in someone else's life. Breakfast came soon after. I devoured the feast, starved from stress and rebellion.

"I'm so hungry," I mumbled between bites, crumbs spilling onto the silk.

When the tray was cleared, I turned to Thalia. "Can you show me the kitchen? I need to know who's making this delicious food."

"But... my princess... guests aren't allowed—"

"Thalia. Just show me," I interrupted, my tone sharper than intended.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Okay... if that's what you want."

We walked through towering corridors, sunlight slanting across marble floors as guards and maids glanced but said nothing.

Down a service stairwell, past stone arches, we arrived at the heart of the kitchen.

"What is she doing here?" a maid hissed.

"Hello, Mr. Chef!" I called out cheerfully. "I came to praise your cooking!"

The chef turned, startled. "Really?"

"Yes. Your meals are divine. Fit for a goddess."

He flushed with pride. "Thank you, Princess!"

I sauntered toward the fruit table. Nestled between apples and plums lay a small, glinting knife.

Perfect.

Casually, I slipped the blade into a hidden fold of my dress. It was surprisingly light. My fingers tingled with possibility.

"And what's this fruit?" I asked, pointing to some deep red berries.

"Those are wild berries, my princess. They grow near the cliffs."

"Fascinating. May I?"

"Of course."

I popped one into my mouth. Sweet with a hint of danger.

"Well, I must be off," I said, smiling wide. "Thank you!"

Thalia trailed behind, her eyes lingering on my hands suspiciously. I adjusted my dress, steadying the stolen knife. Then—bam—I collided with someone hard.

"Oh! Sorry," I said, instinctively backing away.

The man stared down at me, eyes icy blue, posture rigid.

"I think you should learn how to walk," he said coldly.

"I said I'm sorry," I snapped.

Thalia bowed quickly, but he turned and walked off without another word.

"Who was that?" I whispered, still feeling the heat of his disdain.

"Prince Ezryn," Thalia whispered nervously. "He's... intimidating."

"Prince Damiar isn't the only son?"

"There were three," she replied, then gasped. "But one died. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," I said, laughing softly. "Your secret is safe."

"He's the heir now," she said, eyes darting. "But he and Prince Damiar… they hardly speak."

I nodded. "Figures."

"Ravena! Ravena!" Solana's voice rang out.

I turned, already annoyed.

"Where have you been?" she asked, brushing golden strands from her face.

"None of your business, Solana."

"You're always rude."

"Mm-hmm," I said, glancing away.

"Well," she sniffed. "Mother and I are going to the palace lake. I've graciously decided to invite you."

"Thanks," I said, "but no."

Solana scoffed. "You're grumpy. Maevor and I danced beautifully last night. He's taking me on a picnic."

"And that concerns me how?"

She leaned in with a smug grin. "You're just jealous. No one wants to court you. You're... strange."

"Better strange than fake," I said.

She gaped at me, then huffed. "Whatever."

I turned and walked off, Thalia at my heels.

The knife pressed against my side, a silent promise. I didn't know what I'd use it for—but in this place, you never knew when you'd need a sharp edge.