Esme – POV
"Hey, you!" I turned toward the glaring eyes of the head maid.
"Yes… what do you need me for, Mrs. Margaret?" I stopped scrubbing the dirty dishes.
"Stop stuttering, Esme! It's annoying." She grabbed me roughly by the arm.
"Your father wants to see you," she said, dragging me through the hallways. I tried to keep my eyes steady under the dim lights. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and the speed at which she yanked me along made my head spin.
"Slow dow...n." Her nails dug sharply into my arm.
"Shut up," she hissed. "You better not complain about me like you did last time." She gave me a dark smirk.
I shuddered, remembering how my father had dismissed my words and believed Mrs. Margaret instead—who was stealing money from the estate. The blame had fallen on me, as she convinced the other maids to lie and bear false witness. Tears pricked at my eyes. When emotion overcame me, I was punished with a slap—on my father's orders.
The sharp light of my father's office hit me before I could adjust.
"Good morning, Your… Grace. You called for me," I whispered, bowing my head.
"Raise your head." I jerked up too quickly, making my dull headache worse. I muffled a groan.
"Father," Merina's cheerful voice rang out, and his face instantly lit up. Watching them share a father-daughter moment made me ache with jealousy. I wished for that connection too—but I was only the illegitimate daughter, sharing his pink hair and green eyes. Nothing more. No bond. No recognition.
"Esme, what is she doing here?" Merina's voice carried irritation.
"Calm down, Merina. She's here so I can tell her the news."
"Oh wait, Father, so I don't have to marry that ruthless man?" Her voice was full of relief.
"Esme." My father called me by name—for the first time ever. Normally, I was just 'filth.'
"You will marry King Liam Garrison, the ruler of Eastbrone. In Merina's place. I've already told them you are my real daughter."
"I'm not Princess Merina... I'm just Esme. Marrying the king is wrong. It's a lie."
"You little—" A sharp slap landed on my cheek, knocking me to the ground.
"Don't talk back. You leave tonight."
"Housemaid, make sure she's ready. She needs to look like Merina," my father commanded. "That bastard Liam—psycho king—dares to threaten me into handing over my beautiful daughter. He doesn't deserve her." He spat the words as Merina sighed in relief, her eyes silently screaming, Good riddance.
"Take her away," he barked, and the housemaid dragged me off.
Now, I sit in the guest room. Luxurious walls, crystal chandeliers, and thick carpets surround me. The same maids who once sneered at me are now bathing me in essential oils, scrubbing my hair with herbs. Their faces are still cold. I may no longer be a maid, but I'll never be one of them.
Exhaustion overwhelms me. My bones ache from years of work. The scars on my body sting as they're covered with ointments.
I gasp—the balm is working. The wounds fade quickly, and my skin turns smooth.
A soft chuckle makes me glance up. Merina enters in an ivory muslin gown layered with lavender silk, embroidered with fine thread.
"That's Feykiss Elixir balm," she says. "Made from Faye tears. It heals wounds without a trace."
"Magic…?" I ask, stunned.
"You're marrying King Liam Garrison of Eastbrone—where magic is common. Unlike here."
The maids dress me in a soft pink muslin gown with white lace, puff sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline.
"You all can leave," Merina says. A maid brings tea. I sit stiffly across from her, unsure of etiquette. She moves with elegance. I do not.
"Eat up. You'll need strength." I take the cake and sip the tea. Merina frowns.
"You have no manners," she scoffs. I ignore her. When you've starved as I have, nothing else matters.
"You should know," she says. "The king is short-tempered. He kills anyone he sees as a burden—even women."
I gulp. My family is sending me to Death's doorstep—to a monster of a king who might kill me the moment I misstep.
"I gave you my best clothes and jewelry," Merina adds. "Once you arrive in Eastbrone, King Liam's men will escort you to the palace."
I nod, speechless. I board Baredon's finest carriage, marked with the stag and rose, alongside the Westernland sun—the symbol of my nation. For the first time, people show me respect.
Warm clothes are provided for the journey. The soldiers escorting me treat me like someone important.
As I look back at the Baredon Estate—the place I served for nineteen years—I feel nothing but cold.
Two days pass. My body aches. I witness a man die—killed by soldiers during a bandit attack. I can't sleep. The sight of blood and lifeless corpses haunts me.
The land of Eastbrone is colder than I imagined. I pull my coat tighter as the massive gates come into view.
The carriage slows to a stop. Another royal carriage is already waiting.
My heart sinks. I wish I could run.
But it's too late.