Chapter 9

I felt numb when I woke up this morning. Well, numb first, then terrified. In my fantasies, Sarah braided my hair while I was back in my old room, watching the sun come up. I was at ease as I sat in the cozy familiarity of my former house, feeling her nails against my head.

And then I woke up in a strange room, lying on an uncomfortable bed with wafer-thin sheets wrapped around me. Then everything came back to me: being sent as a maid to the Gahndor Palace, the ride here, the First Feast, getting to know the royal family, Gertrude's taunts, and Prince Kohl's threat.

I turn my sheets so that I can see the girl kneeling on her bed in the corner of the room, folding her pajamas. I do recall that this has resulted in at least one positive outcome.

Her hazel eyes swivel to face me. When our eyes meet, hers brighten up. "Morning, Naomi! Sleep well?"

"Yes," I tell a fib. The truth is that I didn't get any sleep at all, and when I did, it was during a dream that left me feeling empty and broken once I woke up.

When she turns to face her clothing again, she smiles. She's dressed like a maid, but without the boots. They take a seat at her bed's foot.

She comes back to face me, and I can see the gleam of doubt in her eyes as she says, "Good. Today is the first training session. We need to accompany Gertrude there and bring her water and towels when she needs them." "The royal family is going to be there to watch. Head Maid Greta wants us on our best behaviour."

I get out of bed and nod. I signed up to take care of Gertrude, even though it doesn't sound like fun this early in the morning. Okay, so... more akin to what I had to endure. However, it's not as if I had an option. "Do we get to have breakfast first?"

With a grimace on her lips, Macy shakes her head. "No... we have to wait until lunch. The ladies will have breakfast while we set up the training equipment and everything."

I scowl and fight the impulse to rub my sore stomach. Since I haven't eaten much in the last two days, my stomach is in a knotted, growling mess.

Seeing that only royals and ladies are permitted to eat during the First Feast, it didn't upset me yesterday that I only had a brief lunch break in Greta's lessons. But right now, I'm hungry, and I'm not sure I can hold out till noon.

As Macy slips out of the room to use the shared toilet, I quietly change into my maid outfit. I pull on my boots and throw my hair up in a low ponytail, mentally noting that I should take a shower after lunch. Though I ignore it, a part of me aches, thinking about how Sarah would be mad with me for having such a simple hairstyle. My hair will never again be braided for me. I'll be the one braiding, if that makes sense.

When Macy comes back, I'm ready to go. Walking down the corridors together, we watch other maids come out of their apartments, all neat and correct except for the black bags under their eyes. They also couldn't have slept well. This is probably a change for them just as much as it is for me.

I haven't had a chance to explore this side of the palace, but Macy leads us down a few unfamiliar hallways. She gestures to a courtyard off to my right, and as we walk past an archway, I manage to get a look of the colorful flowerbeds. After some while, we discover a room with two double wooden doors that are propped open with doorstops. Head Maid Greta greets us upon entering and begins softly chatting with the other early-arriving maids.

We stay in the room till about thirty maids are present. I remember there were at least fifteen girls competing, so the numbers add up. Once everyone is comfortable, Greta divides up our tasks. The mannequins, which are essentially leather representations of human bodies packed full of cotton and hay, are what Macy and I have to set up.

We all labor silently, some of the females setting up pitchers and towels on tables as the rest of us, including ourselves, mannequin set up. Head Maid Greta soon orders us to stand against the walls as I hear a chorus of feminine voices drift down the hall.

The girls come in, one by one. Walking among them is a royal woman who appears to be too old to be in the tournament. She is my choice for Head Lady.

The royal family follows them in, and as Kohl eventually goes beneath the door, I can feel the silence descend upon the room. Though the circles around his eyes appear darker than they were last night, he appears exactly the same. He approaches the three thrones arranged to the side with his parents and takes a seat in the middle. The females laugh and talk among themselves. 

I roll my eyes, but they look at him with sly glances. The dude doesn't appear to be very happy to be here.

With two claps, the Head Lady surveys the room with her green eyes. "Well, ladies," she begins. "Pick a mannequin and practice your combat skills. Don't just focus on tearing them apart, but also focus on the techniques you use. Try not to exhaust yourselves, because after this, we will head to the track to practice sprints. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Lady Yvonne," they reply in a mumble. The females then separated to retrieve their own mannequins. With a smug expression on her face, Althea moves towards the one in the center, just in front of the prince. Ever the modest one, Jade walks to the far right, while Gertrude chooses the one that is closest to the left wall, or the one closest to us. Macy and I watch helplessly as Gertrude changes into a grey-brown wolf and starts to eat into the mannequin while we have the water pitcher and towels out by the table. She may not have the best technique, but she is unquestionably strong—if not the strongest. Not even Althea seems to be able to bite into the leather with the same intensity as her.

I feel like someone is trying to pierce my skull while I observe, like if there are eyes on my temple. My throat tightens as I turn to see Prince Kohl's amber eyes observing me. The expression in his eyes tells me he's still thinking about the encounter and the threat. I have to look away after a few seconds of holding his eyes. If my awkwardness is what enrages him, then maybe maintaining eye contact does too, and I really don't want to die today.

Gertrude suddenly shouts out to us. She yells, "Towel and water, damn it!" I follow closely behind Macy, who hobbles over holding a large white bath towel, and she holds a pitcher and cup. Gertrude bites into the towel and pulls it away from Macy, causing her to stumble. She becomes human in an instant, encircling her body with the towel. She gives Macy a fierce look.

"If you're going to be a goddamn towel runner, at least learn how to stay upright. And don't be so goddamn slow," she says. I notice Macy tense and pause a few steps away, a fire in my throat.

With her dark curls cascading over her shoulders, she bends her head. "My apologies. I'll try to be faster."

Gertrude gives a coarse snort, the kind that people do when they have phlegm in their throats. "That's the irony though, isn't it? You can't be faster, limpy. All because of your stupid fucking leg." 

She grabs Macy's face with her palm and pushes her away. She saunters over and grabs the pitcher from my grasp before I can even register what just happened. She gulps down from the jug itself.

She shops the pitcher back into my chest, causing ice-cold water to splash into my shirt. "There, now fuck off," she says. She moves away, leaving me with a terrible aftertaste that seeps into my bloodstream and brain like poison. I turn to face Macy, who appears to be about to cry once more. I am furious—the kind of fury that explodes in your gut and swallows you whole.

I make the decision to at least do it for Macy even if I don't do it for myself. So I move ahead, pouring down Getrude's back the full jug of ice-cold water while pretending to trip. She gives me a startled shriek before spinning around to attack me.

I initially feel like I've won. I believe it even shows in my tiny smile. After feeling helpless for so long, it feels amazing to be in control for once.

But my triumph is fleeting. Gertrude gives me a straight blow to the face. Hard. It's not even until I'm falling back that I realize she punched me; blue, red, and green flashing in my eyes as pain flares up in my face. My rear hits the floor, and I gasp as agony shoots through me.

She snaps, "Watch your fucking step, bitch!" I put my hands over my hurting nose. It appears to be broken.

Then there's a stormy arrival. I glance up and see Althea, with a storm cloud-like expression on her face. I'm shocked for a moment since I've never seen her look so angry. Sure, I've seen her lose her temper over small matters, but it seems like she could strike Gertrude with her stare alone right now.

Althea shouts, "You bitch!" She sways. When her fist strikes Gertrude's jaw, there's a loud snap, and then everything goes crazy. Before other females physically tear them away, the two swing, bite, and tug at each other's hair. Gertrude is responding angrily to Althea's screams of insults. I am not able to witness the strange scene for very long, though, as I am pulled upright by something strong gripping my arm.

Head Maid Greta gives me a stern look as she ushers me out of the training room. Her grasp is so strong that I wince, but I'm too scared to urge her to relax it.

She remains silent. She just keeps dragging me along till the sounds of mayhem fade. We are outside the courtyard's entrance. 

when she turns around to talk at last. "Look what you have done, girl. Being such a Clutz in front of the royal family... how embarrassing! Do you feel no shame for the trouble you have caused poor Gertrude?"

I look at her, astonished. She doesn't seem to care that I may have a broken lip and that blood is seeping out of my nose.

I say, offended, "I just... I just got punched!"

Greta narrows her gaze. She raises herself up to her full height and says, "Serves you right! A maid should never fall out of line and is to be punished when she does." "This is your punishment. Go to the restroom, wash up, and come back only when you get your head straight. I will not have you making another mistake like that again." She said, standing at least a full foot taller than me.

She spins around and storms off with that. I glare at her through

watery eyes, not sure if my face is stinging from sobbing or if it's just the injustice of it all. In any case, I'm far too enraged to take her advice.

I make up my mind not to return to the room. I can't just sit there and pretend that what occurred was all OK. Rather, I turn and charge into the courtyard.