The head maid, Lady Samet, led Valaia—posing as Aila—through the labyrinthine halls of the palace. Lady Samet’s voice was clipped and demanding as she explained each of Valaia’s new responsibilities.

“First,” she barked, “you will ensure the princess’s clothing is clean. No dust, no tears, no excuses.” She paused before an ornate wardrobe filled with silks and gold-threaded gowns, each one meticulously folded. “Count them every evening. If a single piece goes missing, your head will be the first I bring to her.”

Valaia nodded meekly, masking her frustration.

Next, Lady Samet marched her to a vault-like room gleaming with gold and gemstones. “Her jewellery,” the head maid said, gesturing to rows of necklaces, rings, and bracelets organised in perfect symmetry. “These pieces are priceless. If even one is misplaced, I’ll have you thrown into the dungeon.”

From there, they moved to the grand kitchen. The clatter of pots and bustling of servants filled the air. “The princess does not wait for meals,” Lady Samet said sharply. “You will make sure she is fed before she even has to ask. If she hungers, you fail.”

They continued to the princess’s bathing chamber, where a massive marble tub dominated the space. Perfumed steam curled in the air, and shelves of jars filled with exotic herbs lined the walls. Lady Samet pointed to a pouch. “You will use these herbs. Not too much, not too little. The water must be the perfect temperature, or she’ll know. She always knows.”

Valaia followed silently, noting every detail, but growing more confused. Why was she being trusted with so many of the princess’s personal needs? It felt like more than mere punishment.

Lady Samet finally stopped at the door to the princess’s private chambers. “And now,” she said, gripping Valaia’s arm tightly, “you will meet her. Be respectful, obedient, and clever. Displease her, and I won’t bother warning you again.”

She knocked on the door, her sharp gaze daring Valaia to falter. When a soft, melodic voice from within called, “Enter,” Lady Samet pushed the door open and gestured for her to step inside.

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then walked in, her heart pounding as she prepared to face the princess again.

Valaia walked cautiously into the dimly lit chamber, her steps light but deliberate. The soft click of the door closing behind her made her flinch, but she didn’t turn back. The room carried a faint, familiar scent—jasmine and something darker, muskier—that stirred fragments of a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.

Her eyes scanned the space, her gaze landing on the bed she barely remembered. The sight of it sent a shiver down her spine. It felt hauntingly familiar, though the details were frustratingly vague. Her fingers brushed the fabric of her servant’s uniform as if grounding herself.

Past the bed, her eyes caught sight of an archway she hadn’t noticed before. It was shrouded in shadow, almost blending into the ornate walls. She paused, uncertain, when a voice came from beyond the archway—a voice that dripped with authority and allure.

“You’re finally awake after two days,” the princess said, her tone carrying a hint of amusement.

The words sent a jolt through Valaia.

Two days?

How could that be?

What happened?

Her chest tightened as she tried to recall, but the memory danced just out of reach.

Compelled by curiosity and confusion, she moved toward the voice. Her footsteps were slow, as though she were crossing into forbidden territory. The archway led into a smaller, more intimate room bathed in soft golden light.

The princess stood there, leaning casually against the edge of a low table. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, and she wore a simple but elegant robe that clung to her form, cinched at the waist with a golden sash. Her eyes gleamed as they locked onto Valaia, and a sly smile tugged at her lips.

Valaia stopped just short of the threshold, her pulse quickening. The princess’s gaze felt like it could strip away her pretence, leaving her exposed.

“Two days,” Valaia repeated, her voice a whisper. “How…?”

The princess tilted her head, studying her as though she were a puzzle to be solved. “You needed the rest,” she said simply. “I prefer my new servants in good health, after all.”

Valaia’s confusion deepened.

New servant?

What game was being played here?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that the princess knew far more than she was letting on.

*

Princess Kalythra’s golden gaze studied Valaia, her expression unreadable yet calculating. Finally, she asked in a smooth, commanding tone, “What is your name, servant?”

Valaia straightened her posture, her expression calm but her mind racing. Testing the waters, she replied evenly, “I am not your servant, Princess. Why am I here, and why am I wearing this?”

Kalythra tilted her head slightly, her eyes flickering over Valaia’s attire with an almost lazy amusement. “Indeed,” she mused, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “What you’re wearing isn’t suitable for my servant.”

Turning away with deliberate grace, Kalythra walked to a tall, ornately carved cupboard. She opened it and pulled out a heavy chest encrusted with delicate gold detailing. With a soft click, the lid creaked open to reveal luxurious fabrics and shimmering ornaments. She selected an outfit and held it out to Valaia. “Wear this.”

Valaia stepped forward and peeked into the chest, pulling out the garment with a cautious hand. Her eyes widened as she unfolded it, revealing something so sheer and revealing it was barely more than a suggestion of clothing. She immediately shook her head, her voice firm. “I’m not wearing this.”

The princess’s gaze darkened slightly, though her smile remained. “Misbehave, and I’ll call the head maid for you,” she warned, her tone light yet dripping with threat.

Valaia hesitated. Something about the princess’s demeanour didn’t sit right with her. She knew Kalythra had the power to discipline her personally if she wanted to, so why pretend to rely on the head maid? What was she playing at?

Her thoughts flickered to the two servants whose places she had taken. A faint memory teased at the edge of her mind—their voices, something about a fight—but the details were hazy.

‘Why can’t I remember?’ she thought, her brow furrowing.

The princess seemed to sense her turmoil and gestured toward the garment. “Put it on,” she urged, her voice softening just slightly, as though she were coaxing a wild animal. “When you’re dressed, I’ll give you answers.”

Valaia stared at the garment again, reluctantly clutching it. She turned as if to leave the room, hoping for privacy, but Kalythra’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“There’s no need to hide,” the princess said, teasing hinted in her tone. “I’ve already seen you naked before.”

Valaia froze, her heart skipping a beat. Her memory flickered again, hazy and fragmented, but the thought of being intimate with the princess sent an inexplicable warmth flooding through her body. Her skin tingled, and she hated how her body seemed to respond to something her mind couldn’t fully recall.

Confusion and unease mixed within her as she stood there, gripping the garment in her hands, unable to move. Kalythra watched her with a sly smile, as though she were savouring every moment of Valaia’s inner turmoil.