Chapter two.

After that, I am escorted by a woman into one of the mansions. My mind is in turmoil, replaying the events that just unfolded.

I follow her silently, like a zombie. We climb stone stairs, and she pushes open a door, motioning for me to enter. Once I step in, she closes it behind me.

She hands me a long black dress with white decorations, white gloves, and a headpiece.

“These are your duties,” she begins curtly. “Clean prince Arthur's room, change and wash his robes and bedding daily, arrange his belongings, inform him of meal times or take his meals to him if he doesn’t join the royal family. Prepare his bathwater, clean his battle attire, wake him at dawn, and keep any palace or personal secrets of his. There are more tasks, but those are the basics.”

How am I supposed to remember all of that?!

“Put these on and come out. I’ll show you around and explain the rules and additional duties,” she says, leaving no room for argument.

Additional duties?!

I change quickly and step out, finding her waiting.

“It suits you perfectly. Let me help with the headpiece,” she says, reaching for my head. Instinctively, I step back.

“I can manage. Just tell me how to fix it,” I reply calmly, though panic churns inside me. What if she discovers my hair is fake?

“Twist it to the right,” she instructs, her eyes narrowing slightly at my reaction.

“Thank you.”

She begins showing me around, pointing out rooms and areas I can’t possibly remember. Eventually, we stop at a grand door.

“This is the prince’s room,” she explains. “Only members of the royal family and you are allowed inside. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be held accountable. The room hasn’t been cleaned for days. Go to the store I showed you, get cleaning supplies, and start immediately.” She turns to leave, but I blurt out:

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember where the store is.”

She glares at me, exasperated. “What?! Ugh! Follow me!”

I trail behind her, quietly retrieving the supplies. Back at the prince’s room, the guard lets me in. To my surprise, the room is already quite clean. The woman definitely exaggerated. Still, I get to work.

As I scrub, the door creaks open. I look up, and my green eyes meet piercing blue ones. My heart leaps, and I quickly avert my gaze. Fear grips me, though I can’t explain why.

“Leave what you’re doing and come with me,” he commands simply.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I reply, abandoning the cleaning supplies to follow him.

We pass through hallways filled with people who bow as we walk by. He responds with a curt “mhm” to their greetings. Exiting the mansion, I see five horses and several guards waiting.

“Can you mount a horse on your own?” he asks, his sharp gaze fixed on me.

“Yes,” I say without thinking, instantly regretting it. The truth is, I’ve never ridden a horse before, and seeing them up close is terrifying.

“Then go ahead,” he says with a smirk, clearly aware of my fear.

I approach hesitantly, gathering my courage. Just as I grab the reins, the horse neighs loudly. I jump back and land hard on the ground. Laughter erupts from the guards.

The prince chuckles. “Shorty, now you understand why honesty is important. Come, get in the carriage with me. You’re my servant, after all. Besides, I have something to ask you.”

Shorty?! Why would he call me that?! Am not that short!

Humiliated, I climb into the carriage. It’s luxurious—far too clean and comfortable for someone like me. I sit stiffly, painfully aware of my secret. What if he figures it out?

The prince joins me, sitting just far enough that I don’t feel suffocated, but his presence is overwhelming. The carriage starts moving, and my body tenses.

“What? Do I look like a monster to you?” he teases, his smirk returning. “I don’t eat little girls.”

I stay quiet, unwilling to engage in his teasing.

“My name is not Shorty. It’s Maya. And I’m not that short, Your Highness,” I blurt out, surprising even myself.

He raises an eyebrow but ignores my words. “So, Shorty, what kind of romantic gifts do girls like?”

Romantic gifts?! Panic surges through me. I’ve never thought about romance, let alone gifts.

“I—uh...” I stammer.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he presses.

“I thought you were talking to Shorty,” I retort, mustering some courage, since he's being all teasy , why not.

He smirks. “Boldness suits you. But don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

His casual tone unnerves me, but before I can respond, he adds, “So, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you hesitated to become my servant?”

I freeze. “Why would that matter?”

“It matters because you’ll need to end it. My servants follow my rules and also you will never have time to go see him , for five years, so what's the point of being with him?” His tone turns cold, and for a moment, I glimpse the rumored prince—the one who doesn’t tolerate defiance.

Before I can argue, I blurt out, “You should get her a necklace. Girls love those.”

“You even dare to cut me off?” he says, incredulous.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. The idea just came to me,” I say, bowing slightly as the carriage halts.

He doesn't seem to realize it as he presses on with the small talks. "Anyway, what are some of your hobies?"

"I only have one, eating." I blurt. Hoping that he just stop talking.

He chuckles, then turns to me unbelievably. "Oh, you are serious. So what do you love to eat?" He asks still looking down at me.

"Anything edible , your highness." I say.

“We’re here, your highness.” a guard announces, opening the door.

We step out into a bustling marketplace. The townspeople stop and bow as the prince walks by.

“Jeremy,” he calls to one of his guards. “Buy a necklace— the one that you think a lady Ferrior would like.”

“Yes, my prince.”

As Jeremy leaves, the prince turns back to me. “So, Shorty, what kind of food did you say you love to eat?”

I stare at him, bewildered. Why is he so fixated on me? People say that he is not the kind of person he is being right now, were they just rumours or were they really true.

Or maybe he found out my secrete just by looking at me and now he is trying to...

Ugh! I don't even know what to think . I realise him looking at me with a raised brow and I know it's because I haven't answered his question.