I watched helplessly as the maids erased the disaster I had left behind on the counter.
Chocolate smears vanished beneath damp cloths. Broken crumbs were swept away. Melted icing dissolved into nothing—my crime undone piece by piece.
I sat atop the marble island, swinging my legs idly as I hummed a soft, tuneless melody, one Mother used to hum when I was younger. The sound barely reached my own ears.
The maids worked in silence, efficient and practiced, though I could see the strain in their movements. They always worked too hard. For me. For everyone.
“I—thank you,” I said at last, my voice small. I forced a shy smile. “For cleaning up after me. You’re all so kind, even though I cause so much trouble. I’m… I’m sorry.”
One of them—Aila—paused.
She knelt on the floor, scrubbing at a stubborn cocoa stain darkened into the wooden boards.
Sweat glistened at her temples, a loose strand of hair clinging to her cheek. When she looked up, her smile was tired but genuine.
“Don’t apologize, Princess,” she said gently. Her hazel eyes softened, creasing at the corners. “It’s what we do.”
Then she returned to her task, as though it were nothing.
As though I were not a burden.
Rushed footsteps echoed down the hall.
I lifted my head, squinting toward the doorway.
Zaeran.
Her stride was sharp. Purposeful. Angry.
Where was she going?
I tilted my head, watching as her silhouette disappeared around the corner, swallowed by shadow and stone.
Without thinking, I slid off the counter.
Aila glanced up just in time to see me slip toward the door. She raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly, but said nothing. She never did.
The corridor was quiet.
Too quiet.
I crept along the wall, bare feet silent against the cold marble. As I rounded the corner, I nearly collided with a familiar figure.
General Griselda.
I froze and ducked behind a pillar, heart pounding. My hands flew to my mouth as I pressed myself into the stone, barely daring to breathe.
“Zaeran—wait, don’t just storm in—!” Griselda hissed, armor clinking as she hurried after her.
I peeked out carefully, scanning the corridor for guards—anyone who might catch me where I didn’t belong.
None.
I darted from pillar to pillar, pulse roaring in my ears, until the war room loomed ahead. The heavy curtains framing its entrance swayed faintly, inviting and ominous all at once.
I slipped behind them, clutching the thick fabric as if it could hide my very existence.
The double doors burst open.
Zaeran stormed inside.
The sound echoed like thunder.
Griselda stopped short, one hand hovering inches from the handle. She hesitated—something she almost never did. Then she dropped her hand with a curse and stepped back, rubbing her face.
“May Heaven bestow me patience,” she muttered, pacing with her arms crossed, eyes lifted toward the ceiling as if appealing to unseen gods.
I strained to hear what was happening beyond the doors, but the walls were thick, the voices muted.
Still—Griselda’s unease told me enough.
She never panicked.
So what frightened her now?
Minutes passed. Each one stretched thin, brittle.
Then the doors opened.
Zaeran stepped out.
She looked… wrong.
Not just angry—though fury burned through her—but devastated. As if something vital had been torn from her chest and she remained upright through sheer force of will alone.
I dropped to my knees, gripping the curtain tightly, my fingers aching as I pressed closer, desperate to hear.
Griselda turned sharply, closing the distance between them. Her voice was low, urgent.
“So?” she demanded. “What did the Empress say?”
Zaeran dragged a trembling hand down her face. “She’s sending Atarae by sundown,” she said hoarsely. “I tried negotiating, but—” A bitter laugh escaped her. “She isn’t known for mercy.”
My breath caught.
Sending me… away?
By sundown?
Griselda let out a hollow chuckle, humorless. “Have you decided what you’re going to tell the young lady?”
Zaeran shook her head sharply. “I can’t let this happen. She’s supposed to rule.” Her voice cracked despite herself. “Mother didn’t explain anything. She’s set on sending Atarae as soon as possible.”
She pressed her palms to her temples, as if holding herself together by force alone.
Griselda’s hand landed on her shoulder.
Firm. Cold. Detached.
“Erase her memories.”
Zaeran’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Erase. Her. Memories,” Griselda repeated, voice unwavering. “You want to protect her? That’s the only way.”
Zaeran stopped breathing.
I think… I did too.
The words echoed in my skull—loud, hollow, impossible.
Erase… my memories?
The corridor blurred. My fingers slipped against the curtain as my knees dug into the floor.
No.
No, no, no—
The world tilted.
And suddenly, I understood.
Not what they planned.
But that whatever was coming—
I would not be allowed to remember it.
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and then Add to home screen.