The gown was heavy.
No...heavy was an understatement. This thing weighed as much as a small child clinging to my ribs, squeezing the life out of me with every breath!
And now I was expected to walk in it.
The doors to my room opened, and suddenly there were five, maybe six more maids standing in the hallway, lined up like soldiers waiting for inspection.
They bowed deeply, their voices chiming in unison.
"Mine lady."
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I don't need a train of ladies to escort me. No one's abducting me."
But it was useless.
I simply groaned, pressing a hand over my corset like it might give me a little air. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just… go."
So we went.
One maid...slightly taller than the rest, with calm gray eyes and a braid that fell neatly down her back...stepped into place at my side.
She didn't walk behind me like the others. She stayed close, her movements steady, careful.
Watching me, watching everything.
Great. A babysitter.
As we started down the corridor, I leaned slightly toward her. "So… what's your deal? Why are you the only one not marching in formation back there?"
She blinked at me, then gave a small bow of her head. "I am thine handmaid, Mine lady. Thine shadow."
I frowned. "Shadow? Creepy much. But okay, I guess. Handmaid. Shadow. Whatever."
The walk stretched on, my heels clicking against polished stone floors.
The castle was… breathtaking. I didn't want to admit it, but it was.
High-arched ceilings painted with angels and battles, long crimson tapestries lined with golden thread, chandeliers dripping crystal like frozen rain.
Every ten feet, some armored knight statue glared down at me with a sword raised high.
And don't get me started on the stallions. They were everywhere.
Carved into the wood, stitched into the banners, painted on the walls...rearing horses, heads held high, eyes fierce.
"Okay," I muttered, tugging at my skirt as we passed yet another mural of a glowing white stallion trampling enemies underfoot.
"What is with all the horses? Like...seriously. You guys obsessed with ponies or something?"
My handmaid gave me a sidelong look, lips pressed together, but didn't answer.
"Yeah, of course," I grumbled. "Why would anyone answer the crazy not-princess? I said, waving my hands dramatically.
"Just let her choke to death in a corset and be confused forever."
The walk went on and on, hallways twisting into staircases, turning into more hallways.
Every corner they turned, more servants appeared...bowing, whispering, staring. It was like being on a red carpet, except instead of fans screaming, everyone was terrified and reverent at the same time.
By the time we reached the last set of towering double doors, I was already exhausted.
Two guards stood there, spears crossed in front of them. When they saw me, their eyes widened. Instantly, they slammed the spears to their sides and bowed low, before heaving the doors open.
The grand dining hall looked like it had been kidnapped from a luxury magazine.
The table stretched longer than a city bus, covered in dishes I couldn't name, fruits stacked high, candles flickering like tiny stars, cutleries gleaming under the candlelight.
The smell of roasted meat and spices filled the air.
But I barely noticed any of it because at the head of the table, sat a man whose presence made the entire room bend.
The King.
His crown glimmered in the candlelight, his face sharp with lines carved from both age and authority. His white beard was skillfully trimmed to match his shoulder length hair.
His gaze landed on me. Powerful, yet warm.
Beside him sat two men that I suppose are Ioana's brothers.
Both tall, broad-shouldered, their postures straight, commanding.
One had dark hair and piercing eyes that studied me like I was a riddle he wanted to solve.
The other's hair was lighter, his smirk sharp, like he already knew the punchline to a joke no one else had heard.
The moment they saw me, their expressions flickered. Shock. Then something heavier.
The hall went utterly silent.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart a mess of drumbeats.
The King rose slowly from his chair, his voice carried through the chamber, deep and steady.
"Mine daughter… thou art returned."
I blinked. Once. Twice.
I tried to speak but the words got stuck in my throat. t6he King stepped down from his dais, his crown glimmering, his heavy robe swaying as he crossed the marble floor.
And then, without hesitation, he wrapped me into his arms.
I froze stiff as a board.
"Father?" I croaked automatically, the word slipping out without permission.
A ripple swept through the room...maids whispering, guards lowering their heads, the brothers exchanging sharp looks.
The King's arms were strong, crushing, warm. His chest rumbled against my ear as he whispered, "Ioana… mine child."
And when he finally pulled back, I saw tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. Genuine. Raw.
I didn't know what to do with that.
Before I could attempt an explanation, one of the brothers...dark-haired, his eyes sharp as arrows...spoke. His voice carrying a hint of doubt and curiousity.
"I heard the princess hath lost her wits, and speaks in a language we comprehend not."
I groaned silently, nearly facepalming.
"Brother, mind thy tongue," the lighter-haired one muttered, though his gaze remained locked on me too, his smirk gone, replaced by something calculating.
The servants were whispering furiously now. I caught bits and pieces...
"Lost her wits…"
"Her tongue is strange…"
"Perchance she hath wandered in madness."
"I am not...crazy!!" I snapped, my voice sharp and furious.
The King raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. His gaze softened when it returned to me. "Thy tongue is tangled, my child. Fear not. We shall tend thee well. In time, thy memory shall return."
Oh, great. He thinks I hit my head and forgot who I am.
The King gestured toward the long table. "Come. Sup with thy kin."
My legs wobbled as I followed, my shadow maid pulling my chair for me like this was normal.
Both brothers kept their eyes trained on me, like hawks circling prey. The servants poured wine, laid dishes steaming with herbs and spices I didn't recognize.
Finally, the King lifted his goblet. "Let us feast."
I swallowed hard and picked up my fork.
The first bite…
Hmm. Not bad. A little heavy on the herbs, a little lacking in balance. My chef brain clicked into gear before I could stop it.
I chewed thoughtfully, then frowned. "You know… it's missing acidity. Like, a squeeze of lemon would brighten this up. And the texture's a bit… mushy. Maybe if you seared it first before the broth, you'd get that contrast…"
I set the fork down, raising my eyes and discovering that the entire table had frozen.
The King blinked. The brothers exchanged startled looks. Even the servants gaped, as though I'd just recited forbidden scripture.
The Queen...silent until now...leaned forward from her seat, her eyes sharp but curious. "Mine daughter… how cometh thou to know of such things? Ne'er hast thou set hand to hearth nor flame."
Panic flared in my chest. I couldn't exactly tell them I'd spent years in culinary school and just won a national contest. They'd definitely send me to the royal rehab. (That is, if there's one.)
So I shrugged, forcing a small, sheepish laugh. "Lucky guess?"
The servants gasped softly, but the Queen did not look away. Her eyes lingered on me, searching, calculating.
And in that moment, I knew I'd made a mistake. A huge mistake.