Faria and I first went to the kitchens. Neither of us had eaten yet, and it felt like Olivia was trying to starve us. Our stepmother had taken it upon herself to make sure that both Faria’s birthday and the coronation went perfectly. Of course this meant that she decided our every action for us. I had been placed under the supervision of her sons. They hardly let me move without one of them watching. Olivia was so sure that the common blood inside me was evil and that I was only around to steal from them. 

Nearly every servant, guard and guest greeted their soon-to-be queen as we passed through the halls. I, however, was invisible to them as I followed in her shadow. It hurt to be ignored like this, but a part of me enjoyed it.

The kitchens were a large collection of rooms surrounding the spacious great hall. Each room housed its own collection of tools specific to what was prepared in the room; one for soups, one for meats, one for preparation and so on and so forth. I never made much of an effort to learn what each room was for. I only had to learn where I could get food.

Normally, we were limited to eating during our meals, though I had found a way around that. A few months ago, I had caught a scullery maid in the act of stealing from the kitchen. She begged me not to say anything, and though I hadn’t planned on saying anything to begin with, I made a deal with her. If she would prepare food for me whenever I asked, I would stay quiet. Faria eventually found out and decided that she wanted a part of the action. As the months passed, she became something close to a friend and we found out that she had tried stealing because one of her friends near the outskirts of the capital had gotten sick and she needed money for medicine. After learning this, Faria had sent the girl home with a sack of gold. Nobody else inside the castle knew about this, but it was one of the reasons why the people adored her. She was always doing something to help someone else.

Faria and I entered the kitchen and were greeted by some of the staff. Our maid friend, Hazel, appeared almost immediately. She had bright, cornsilk colored hair that hung just below her shoulders and luminous blue eyes, the color of the morning sky. She was older than me by a few months and had a very bubbly personality. Without a word, Hazel led us to a small table nearby, where to small burlap sacks sat waiting. She picked up both sacks and held them out with a wide grin.

“Enjoy.” She spoke quietly. She probably didn’t want others to find out about our deal, but everyone in the kitchens had probably found out by now. I could often catch one of them glancing over, their eyes full of envy, though they usually just went back to their work.

Faria took the bag and ruffled the girl’s hair with a big smile. Cautiously, my sister pulled out an envelope from one of her pockets and handed it to the girl, holding a finger to her lips. She then tipped her head and started towards the exit, swiftly stashing the bag of food into her pockets.

I quickly grabbed the food from Hazel, thanked her and followed after Faria. She seemed to be in a hurry to do something. I managed to catch up to her pace and followed her all the way to the library.

The grand library was the greatest collection of any kind of literature in the entire country. There was a copy of every known work published since Kiech became a country and even before. The library was mostly empty throughout any given day, with the only visitors being the servants tasked with dusting every surface and other maintenance. Connected to the library, on the first floor, was grandfather’s study. Besides Faria, he was the only one to actually treat me like family. Sadly, he passed away just a year ago.

We were normally forbidden from entering his study, but he had left me a note before his passing stating that I had free roam of the room if I desired. It was full of dusty, old books written in the old language. I couldn’t understand anything that was written on any of it, so I usually stayed in the room to get away.

As we entered the library, a soft trill sounded from nearby. A tiny, brown, tabby kitten came trotting from around the bookshelves. She rushed towards us and started to rub herself on my legs as we walked towards one of the round study tables. She sat patiently as we sat down, then leapt up onto my lap, rubbing her face against mine. She curled up and sat, purring on my lap.

“Here, Bella.” Faria spoke, reaching out toward the cat.

The cat lifted its head and stared at my sister like, “Seriously? Get that thing away from me!” She then dropped her head back down peacefully as I scratched the top of her head.

This cat was one of my few companions in this stone prison. She just showed up one day while I was in my grandfather’s study and started following me around. She didn’t like anyone else and would claw and bite whenever someone tried to get close. I had always been fond of cats and immediately started to take care of the cute little thing. Olivia, however, wanted to continue to suck any joy from my life and was going to have the animal removed, but my father stepped in and allowed me to keep it as long as it didn’t cause trouble.

“Why doesn’t she like me?” Faria pouted. She then reached into the food bag and pulled out a small piece of dried meat, waving it at the cat.

I watched as little Bella stared at the food, almost looking nervous as the meat hung in front of her. Then, quietly, she got up from my lap and leapt from my seat to Faria’s, where she snatched the meat from her hand and curled up with it, chewing on it. Faria reached down to pet the kitten, but was met with a low growl. Despite her objections, Faria kept going and gently scratched the top of Bella’s head. Bella, who looked regretfully content, continued to chew on the meat she was given.

Faria and I started to enjoy our own meal as the kitten quietly ate.

As we were eating, a door nearby creaked open and a familiar voice spoke in her usual condescending tone.

“What are you doing in here. We were not finished.”

It was Olivia, our stepmother. She stood just past the doorway, hands on her hips. She was tall, though not as tall as Faria. Her face was unusually pale, though it strangely matched her pitch black hair and enchanting green eyes. She was angry, though the anger on her face distorted once she saw me. Her face twisted as her nose crinkled, like she just smelled something foul. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Wow… she really doesn’t like you.” Faria sighed. “I don’t think it’s ever been this bad. Did something happen?”

“Not that I can think of. It doesn’t matter, though.” I replied, leaning back in my chair. “She’s not my mom.”