The sound of bells woke Lena before dawn. It wasn’t a gentle melody but a series of sharp chimes that echoed through the stone corridors like a warning. Around her, the other girls stirred, some groaning softly, others already sitting up to lace their boots. The air was cold enough to make her breath visible.

Mira stretched and muttered, “Welcome to palace life. No one sleeps past sunrise here.”

Lena rubbed her eyes. The thin blanket had done little against the night chill, and her body still ached from yesterday’s training. She sat up slowly, watching as the others dressed in identical gray uniforms, their hair tied neatly with dark ribbons. Everything moved with quiet order, as if everyone had practiced this a thousand times.

A young attendant entered, carrying a tray of warm bread and small cups of milk. “Eat quickly,” she said. “Mistress Halden will begin morning inspection soon.”

Lena took a piece of bread. It was simple but soft, and the warmth felt like life returning to her hands. She noticed how the others ate silently, eyes fixed on the floor, movements careful. No one dared speak too loud.

When the door burst open, Mistress Halden’s presence filled the room instantly. Her cane tapped the floor once, commanding attention. “Good morning, candidates,” she said, her tone cool. “You will learn that discipline is not about rules. It is about survival in this palace. Those who adapt will remain. Those who fail will return to their villages.”

Lena wondered what that meant for her, someone who didn’t even have a village to return to.

They lined up in the courtyard as the sky brightened. The palace grounds glowed in soft gold. Far in the distance, she could see towers rising like spears of light and guards patrolling the outer walls. The place was both beautiful and intimidating, a world built on perfection.

The training began again. They practiced curtsies, learned how to address nobles, and memorized the different uniforms of the palace ranks. Lena stumbled over the formal speech patterns. Every sentence had to end a certain way, every bow held at the exact angle. Each mistake earned her a sharp correction from Mistress Halden’s cane or a disapproving glare.

By midday, her hands trembled each time she lifted a tray. Yet, she refused to give up. Something inside her—a quiet voice she barely recognized—kept saying she had to survive this, that leaving wasn’t an option.

During the short break, she sat by the edge of the fountain, dipping her fingers into the cool water. Mira joined her with two pieces of bread she had saved. “You’re doing fine,” she said, handing one to Lena. “Mistress Halden hits everyone. She even hit me last year when I trained for the first time.”

Lena blinked. “Last year?”

Mira nodded. “This is my second try. I failed before because I spoke too much.” She smiled faintly. “Now I just nod.”

Lena laughed softly, though there was no real humor in it. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Yesterday I was walking home from work. Now I’m folding linens in a palace.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” Mira said, staring at the water. “Some people are born to serve. Others are brought here for reasons we can’t see yet.”

Lena looked at her reflection in the fountain. The face staring back was hers, but something about it seemed different. The light in her eyes, maybe. Or the way her hair caught the sun. She almost didn’t recognize the woman she saw.

Afternoon came with another round of lessons, this time in the grand hall. A group of nobles had arrived, and the candidates were ordered to assist in setting up for a luncheon. Lena followed the others, carefully laying plates and arranging flowers. The hall was breathtaking—marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, walls covered in tapestries that told stories of ancient battles.

As she placed a glass on the table, she caught sight of someone watching from the balcony above. A tall figure in royal attire, posture straight, gaze distant. His clothes were deep blue trimmed with gold, and even from far away she could feel the quiet authority that surrounded him.

“Who is that?” she whispered to Mira.

Mira glanced up briefly. “That’s Prince Alden. The heir to the throne.”

Lena turned her eyes back quickly before anyone noticed. But she could still feel his gaze, steady and unreadable, like he saw through her plain uniform and into her thoughts.

When the luncheon ended, the candidates were dismissed back to their quarters. The sun dipped low, painting the palace walls in shades of amber. Lena walked slower than the rest, her mind heavy with questions.

That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, she sat by the window of the dormitory. The moon hung over the palace like a watchful eye. From somewhere far below, music drifted faintly—harps, maybe, or flutes. It sounded beautiful but lonely.

She thought of her apartment back in the city, the humming refrigerator, the soft glow of her desk lamp, the smell of instant noodles after a long day. All of it felt like a memory from another life. She whispered to herself, “If this is a dream, why does it hurt so much?”

A soft knock came from the door. She turned, startled. Mira was still asleep, so Lena rose quietly and opened it.

No one was there. Only a folded piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up and unfolded it under the moonlight. The handwriting was elegant, unfamiliar.

If you wish to understand why you are here, come to the eastern garden at dawn. Do not be seen.

Her hands shook slightly as she reread the message. There was no signature, only a faint mark of a seal shaped like a crescent moon.

Lena looked toward the window again. The garden lay beyond those walls somewhere, hidden by shadow. She didn’t know who had sent the note, but she knew one thing—she couldn’t ignore it.

As the bells tolled midnight, she folded the paper and tucked it under her pillow. Her heart beat fast, not with fear, but with something new—a strange pull toward the unknown.

In a palace where every move was watched, secrets were a dangerous currency. Yet for the first time since arriving here, Lena felt a spark of purpose. She closed her eyes, listening to the music fade into the wind, and waited for the first light of morning.