Chapter 3

With moist eyes, I gaze at the carriage. Made of iron and cedarwood, it has two open entryways that show off the interior's velvet lining. It's exquisite. At the head, a driver sits and holds the reins of two anxious white stallions that snort and stomp. I approach the coach without looking the driver in the eye. Rather, I dump my backpack upon the velvety purple armchair and quickly dive in.

I'm having trouble even remembering what happened thirty-six hours ago. Crying, packing, and crying some more have all happened in a blur. My eyes are so red now that they resemble the insides of an oyster, and my temples are pounding. With the exception of Sarah, who had been by my side the entire time, not a single person came to say farewell. She had encouraged me, telling me that every maid's desire is to work at the Gahndor palace, and that it is an honor. How having a maid can occasionally be rewarding and isn't always a bad thing.

I had stopped paying attention to her. She's not understanding. I am a nobility. It is not my place to be at the mercy of people, taking orders as they come. I wasn't meant for this life, but perhaps it is all I have to offer. I guess I'm pretty much useless if Mother can't even imagine my getting married and having kids in a smaller noble house. Perhaps it is all that makes me a nice person.

The carriage starts up and I clasp my fists in my lap, staring at them with an intensity that bores holes. Even though I'm still upset about Mother's choice, I really wish she had at least stopped by to say farewell. But it seems like I'm not even worth that.

But then again, maybe I deserved a chilly farewell, the way I'd spoken to her.

Glancing out the carriage doorway, I see our family estate in the distance. I look up at the polished granite walls and the marble staircase and stone pillars. In the morning sunlight, the windows shimmer like gems surrounded by a band of silver, burning like amber.

I swallow my throat's constriction. I will probably never see it again like this. 

I exhale deeply and continue to stare for a short while. I glance aside then, my chest hurting. I fight back the tears even though I think I might cry again. I am being ushered into a new life in which my family is not in attendance. I am all alone in this existence.

The jolts and bumps of the carriage, the regular clops of hooves against sun-baked ground, grow on me rapidly. I find solace in the thought that the ride won't be very lengthy in spite of everything. Given the proximity of Agnarys' domain, Hestenia, to Gahndor, the journey ought to take no more than several hours. We are actually among the territories nearest to Gahndor. Each noble house in Raelia has a domain that they control and defend. When Mother and Father are unable to fulfill their obligations, my older brother Jason will assume Hestenia's tasks. Still, despite we officially possess this territory, every piece of land is ruled by Gahndor. That's just how it is.

I find myself peering out the doorway as we plod along. I see the forest trees transform into stone-clad cities, full with werewolves wandering around wooden pubs and pop-up stalls. Fortunately, nobody recognizes me, save for an occasional strange glance. Wooden huts and plaster tents take the place of the affluent city infrastructure as we travel more into the countryside, away from the estate and my former life. The majority of those milling around the dirt paths are clad in rags and cheap clothing, with the exception of the occasional merchant who is decked out in pricey materials and costly furs.

towns made of people. They don't pass by me very often, but when I do, they always pique my interest. We werewolves have always coexisted peacefully with humans. While we work in higher-order professions like medicine, law, and science, they continue to work in manual labor and agriculture. We give them security in exchange for their resourcefulness. From where? Nobody is aware. There is a rumor that a mutual enemy drove humans and werewolves to coexist thousands of years ago. The enemy, whatever it was, has vanished, but the social order was too strong to collapse. Thus, everything just stayed this way.

However, that is merely a theory—a narrative to account for the peculiar coalition that our races managed to forge. There are a few more, less well-known, but in my opinion much more plausible explanations for the alliance that do not call upon a shared foe. Furthermore, I can't conceive of any reason why werewolves would be forced to cooperate with another race. As far as we are aware, humans are the most powerful species on the planet. Whatever this purported adversary was, and if it ever was, I'm glad it's no longer in existence.

I'm soon lulled into a long, deep sleep, maybe because of the peaceful buzz of human activity, maybe because I haven't slept well these last thirty-six hours. We are trundling through a strange metropolis when I wake up. The style is peculiar, consisting of massive stone structures supported by dark roofs and black pillars. In an instant, I recognize our location.

We are in the land of Gahndor.

My eyes fill with hunger as I take in the cityscape. Everyone is silent and moving quickly around the city's cobblestone streets, dressed in heavy cloaks and pricey furs. The sound of the horses' hooves on the cobblestone path is the loudest thing, I swear, because it is so silent. The atmosphere is gloomy and spooky, a complete contrast to the bustling city directly outside Agnarys estate. I remember it being teeming with bustle and vitality, and I can't help but wish it were still there. I felt at ease in the city back at my estate. This one gives me the creeps.

But as soon as I see what's there in front of us, all of my anxiety vanishes. Though I had heard a much about the palace, I never would have imagined it to be as stunningly black as it was.

A dark grey stone makes its way up into tall spires that are so high I have to bend my neck to view the caps at the top. I'm not sure why, but windows the color of onyx shimmer within the walls, as if they were sucking up light. The castle is ringed by watch towers, and even with my blurry eyesight, I manage to make out the gleaming dots of armored guards making their way across the battlements that separate them. The palace is surrounded by a soaring cobblestone wall that is only broken up in the middle by a huge iron-wrought gate.

I keep staring at it. It is as terrifying as it is lovely. I want to run, and I want to get closer to it at the same time.

As we got closer to the iron-wrought gates, my gaze was fixed on the enormous structure. Upon closer inspection, I can see that the iron bars of the gate have been crafted to resemble the Gahndor insignia, which is a two-headed serpent curled in on itself. Their symbol has always seemed appropriate to me, and I even believe the architects made that deliberate decision all those years ago. Everyone is aware that a Gahndor bite can be fatal, after all. 

I pause to appreciate the grounds as we drive past the imposing iron gates and into the cul-de-sac that swirls before the palace entrance. I find it surprising that they allowed so much color on the front lawn of a palace as Gothic as this one. The lawn has a vivid green color, resembling the well-groomed shrubs that encircle the flower beds brimming with purple tulips and white roses. Even a black rose appears among the tangle, and just as I'm trying to work out how it could possibly be conceivable in biology, the carriage comes to a stop.

Through the other door, I gaze. The stone steps leading to the castle door are there, directly before me. A number of guards stood like statues along the walls, seemingly able to look right through me. One of the guards rushes over as I pick up my backpack and tiptoe to the edge of the seat. As he runs, his mop of golden curls bobs. Considering that the black pauldrons on his outfit appear to weigh more than the carriage itself, I'm shocked by his speed.

He comes to a stop a few feet before the carriage. He's handsome, I can tell right away up close. His jawline is so sharp it looks as though it could break glass, and his eyes are as green as the grass behind me. And I know he's no stranger to melting girls' hearts when he gives me a smile that shows off his flawless white teeth and lights up his whole face.

I can even feel my own heart flutter. "Naomi Agnarys, is it?"

I gently nod, maintaining eye contact with him as I exit the train. I watch for a shift in his expression, hoping to see that he will realize that I am a noble and that I shouldn't be here so early if I want to compete in the Queenstrials.

However, his smile remains unchanged. I'm relieved to hear, "You are here for the maid position, yes?" Not sure why, but I'm relieved that he didn't

assessment. "Yes," I answer.

"Well, do not worry, you will be in good hands. Head Maid Greta will teach you everything you need to know. In fact, she personally sent me to collect you from your ride and take you to your room." He extends his arm. "My name is Alex, by the way."

I grasp his arm and smile. "And you already know mine."

We take it slowly at first. Alex laughs. "Well, who wouldn't? It's not every day you're assigned to an Agnarys." 

His comments both please and upset me. Being accepted for who I am is good, but it also serves as a sad reminder of what I've lost.

As I look back at the palace, I reply, "I suppose..." We climb the stairs together, and as we come closer to the dark-oak doors, I can't help but stare at them. Upon closer inspection, I can see that they are composed of thousands of tiny engravings that are interwoven to tell hundreds of tales. There's a part of me that wishes I could pause and figure out all of them, but not just yet. I'll put it off until later, I conclude. After all, it appears that I will be here for the remainder of my life.

Any happiness or thrill I had at seeing the palace disappeared without warning. Yes, I will live out the remainder of my days here—but not as a noble, but as a servant.

Not even the stunning granite tiles or the black glass chandelier hanging in the foyer can make me feel better about the lingering thoughts. It takes me a moment to realize that there is very little light coming in through the dark-tinted windows as bracketed torches flicker along the walls. This magnificent palace feels suddenly like a jail.

I'm glad Alex and I walk in solitude together. He leads me up and down multiple steps and through multiple hallways. We make our way past ornate tables adorned with silver trinkets and intricate tapestries that portray horrific battle scenes that make me gawk as we pass them.

Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, Alex leads us into a small hallway. I become uncomfortable as I notice the rows of doors inscribed with specific numbers and letters in the walls. I guess this is where the maid lives.

At last, Alex pulls up outside the door that has a painted 52B in gold. He turns to face me and says, "Well, this is it," his smile melting my heart.

He looks at my depressingly deflated backpack and says, "52B. Head Maid Greta will be coming by in a few minutes to take you to your first lesson, so I'd get unpacked while you still can... not that you have much to unpack."

I smile at him, knowing deep down that I'm about to die. "Thank you, Alex."

Alex gives a nod and walks away, giving one last grin. I move in the direction of the door. I touch the golden knob with my hand.

I take a breath. I release my breath. I twist the knob. 

I have no idea what to anticipate finding in my room. Though, I know I am not prepared for the sight of two beds, or the dark-skinned girl standing by one of them. I had assumed that I would have a private room for some reason.

But before I can even understand it, the girl's expression brightens and she closes the distance between us in three strides, pulling me into a tight embrace.

Alright. To be honest, I didn't anticipate this either.

She cries into my shoulder, "Oh my god! You're here! You're really here! I can't believe I get to see you in person!" I blinked to try and catch a glimpse of the girl's face, but her dark curls were blocking it off.

My thoughts are racing. Has this girl and I met before? Is she feeling excited for a reason? Shall I give her a hug in return?

I maintain my arms firmly by my sides. I apologize for being impolite, but I'm too surprised to say anything more.

The girl finally steps back, and her brown, chocolate eyes appear to light up even more as they stare into mine. She motions to the bed behind me and, sure enough, the platinum-white sheets are crisp and uncreased. "I can't believe I get to work with an Agnarys lady! You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you; I think I dusted the room and made your bed at least five times before you got here."

I look back at her, a little agitated. Yes, individuals who interact with royalty frequently experience excitement, but in my experience, they are usually more excited to meet my parents or brothers than I am. I've never received this kind of attention to myself.

A portion of my heart cracks. If this girl knew that I had been banished from my own family, I wonder what she would think.

"I know you're new to being a maid, but I'll teach you everything you need to know, as will Head Maid Greta. My name is Macy, by the way. I know you probably meet a lot of people, but... oh my gosh, I just can't believe it!" the girl says quickly, oblivious to my sorrow.

She spins in a tiny circle, and I can't help but observe how her left side falls. Then, she takes my arm and drags me towards my bed. It's then that I discover she limps. I turn to see what's hurting her left leg, but her black dress pants hide any cuts.

She grabs the knapsack from my other hand and dumps its contents across the sheets as soon as she gets to the foot of the bed. I simply packed a few things. 

clothes, jewellery, and herbs to support a stable heartbeat. She smiles broadly, grabs a dress, and walks over to a wardrobe made of mahogany that I guess is mine.

"We have to unpack quickly. Head Maid Greta will be here any moment, and your class isn't exactly going to be short. After all, you're going to be assigned to a girl in the Queenstrials along with me—"

My stomach sinks. I find my voice for the first time since coming into the room. "But shouldn't that be a job for more experienced maids? I mean, I'm just new."

Macy shrugs and stuffs another dress into my dresser. "I don't know. I reckon it has to do with you being noble, so you probably know more than you think about performing tasks. After all, I assume you've grown up with at least one maid at your side."

I think about it. That makes sense, I guess. Even so, it hurts to think about helping a girl who is participating in a competition in which I was also meant to compete. Macy's light seems to go out a tiny bit, therefore she must be aware of my grief.

"Honestly... count it as a blessing. Everyone portrays the Queenstrials as this holy thing that a girl can only dream of, but it's really not as wonderful as everyone makes it out to be."

"I wonder why that is."

She explains, "Among the palace folk, it's rumored that the Gahndor line is cursed with cruelty, and that Gahndors can never feel things like love or any positive emotion. They think it's the reason Gahndors never mate. We call it the 'Curse of Cruelty.'" Macy pauses, as if considering whether or not to tell me this. Her eyes change to something that looks like fear. "They say that to fall in love with a Gahndor is to damn yourself. For the past five hundred years, every single Gahndor queen has never lived past thirty. Well, aside from our current queen, but she's just an anomaly."