~ANYA’S POV

The next morning, a piercing, terrible scream woke me up.

“He is not breathing! The man is dead!"

It was Clara's voice. I jumped out of my bed. My heart beat so fast it hurt my chest. I ran down the hall to the main room of the cottage. My adoptive parents, Silas and Martha, were already rushing out of their room, too.

We all stopped and looked at the woven rug. The tall stranger was not moving. His pale skin looked even whiter than before, almost like a ghost. His lips had turned a faint blue. The slow, steady breathing I had felt under my hand the night before was gone. The strong herbal poultice Silas had packed into his deep wound must have caused that.

“You stupid, useless girl!” Silas roared. His face was red with rage. His dream of getting a huge reward had just been destroyed.

He marched up to me, raised his hand, and slapped me so hard across the face. I fell to the hard floor from the impact. The side of my face burned like fire. I tasted warm blood in my mouth.

“Why did you bring a dead man into my home?" Silas screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. Like he had forgotten that he was the one who locked the door and wanted to keep the man for money. “The police will come! They will arrest us for murder! You have ruined our lives!"

"I just wanted to help him,” I cried, holding my burning cheek.

It was as if my words stirred the rage in him. Before Silas could strike me again, the ground beneath our feet began to shake. A deep rumble rolled in from outside. It sounded like thunder, but the morning sky was clear. Then I realized what it was.

The powerful roar of engines was getting closer.

Lily ran to the window and pulled back the curtain. She gasped, her face draining of color.

“Father… look!”

We all looked out the window. A dozen large black SUVs had surrounded our small, muddy yard. The vehicle doors swung open at the same time. Tall, frightening men in dark uniforms stepped out. Each of them held a large rifle, aiming it straight at our little cottage.

“Who are they?" Martha cried, hiding behind Silas.

Before anyone could answer, the heavy oak door of our house was kicked open. The wood split apart as a tall man with sharp features stormed inside. He wore a dark suit, and anger was written all over his face. Heavily armed agents rushed into our cottage.

The man looked around our messy home with disgust. Then his eyes landed on the stranger lying on the floor.

“Your Majesty!" he shouted as he hurried to his side.

Martha gasped in horror, the thin wooden stick slipping from her hand. Silas stumbled backward, all the color draining from his face.

Your Majesty?

My blood ran cold.

The wounded stranger I had found in the woods… the man whose chest I had rested my hand on the night before… was the king of our entire country?

The panicked man ran over to the king lying on the rug and dropped to his knees. He pressed two fingers against the king's pale neck. The man's face instantly turned white.

“Captain Julian, sir! What is his status?" one of the guards at the door asked, his voice shaking.

“He has no pulse. He is not breathing!" Captain Julian looked up at us. His eyes were full of pure, murderous hate. “What did you do to the king?"

Captain Julian stood up. He drew a sleek handgun from his shoulder holster and pointed it right at Silas's chest. "You poisoned him. If His Majesty dies today, I swear every one of you will die for it. I will see to it myself.”

Silas fell to his knees. He was so terrified he started to cry, and his hands were shaking. “No, please, sir, it was not us!"

Silas quickly looked around. Then, he pointed his finger directly at me.

“It was her!" Silas shouted. “She is just a stray orphan we took in out of pity. Her name is Anya. She found him in the woods. She brought him here. She put the poisonous herbs into his wound!"

Martha also dropped to her knees beside her husband, nodding desperately to protect her own skin. “Yes! We tried to stop her, but the wicked girl would not listen!” Martha cried, her eyes wild with panic. “She is the one who did this to His Majesty, not us!"

"Father, mother, no!” I cried out, my eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. "That is a lie!”

Then, Clara stepped forward. She wanted to make sure the guards took me. She never liked me anyway. Even though we had grown up together for sixteen years, we have never shared anything like a sisterly bond.

"Wait, captain, my parents are telling the truth!” Clara yelled, pointing at me. "She was the one that hurt the king! I woke up at midnight to get a cup of water, and I saw her. I saw Anya sitting on the floor beside His Majesty in the dark. She had her hand pressed flat against his chest! She must have done something to him!”

I gasped in horror. Clara was twisting the truth to make me look like an assassin. I was there at midnight, but I did not hurt him. I… I only wanted to feel his heartbeat. I had been mesmerized by his warmth and the rich scent of cedarwood and leather. But I knew this furious Captain would never believe me.

“Shut your mouth!" Silas yelled at me. He looked back at Captain Julian, rubbing his hands together in desperate fear. “Please, take her! Take her as collateral. If the king dies, take her head. Just leave my real family alone. We give her to you.”

The Captain looked at Silas with cold, hard eyes, then shifted his terrifying gaze to me. Clara's sick lie made me look completely guilty.

“I will take the girl as collateral," Captain Julian hissed, his voice like ice. He leaned closer to Silas, his hand still gripping his handgun. “But mark my words, peasant. If His Majesty dies, I will not just take her head. I will bring it back to this miserable cottage, drop it at your feet, and then I will slaughter your entire family."

Silas let out a pathetic whimper, his face draining of whatever color it had. He nodded repeatedly, too terrified to speak.

“Take her!" Captain Julian ordered his men.

Two huge guards in black uniforms grabbed my small arms. They hoisted me up from the floor as if I weighed nothing. I kicked and cried. I looked at Martha, Clara, and Lily, begging them to tell the truth. But they just smiled wickedly, relieved smiles, and looked away. They were willing to trade my life to the royal guards to save themselves.

“Move!" a guard barked.

They dragged me roughly out of the cottage. Other security agents carefully lifted the King and carried him into a large, state-of-the-art white medical van. The king's personal trauma doctors were already inside, desperately working to restart his heart.

The guards threw me into the back of a dark, reinforced black transport van and locked the doors shut.

We drove for hours. I sat in the dark, cold van, crying and holding my bruised cheek. My family had traded my life away like a piece of trash. If the King died today, these men would kill me.

Finally, the van stopped. The doors swung open, and bright sunlight blinded me.

When my eyes adjusted, I gasped. I saw high-rise glass skyscrapers, grand paved streets, and beautiful manicured gardens. We were in the capital city. Behind the wrought-iron gates stood the biggest and most beautiful palace I had ever seen in my life. It was the royal palace. It looked exactly like the charcoal drawing I had made so many times.

For a heartbreaking second, I thought my dream was coming true. I was finally in the capital. I was finally at the palace.

But I was not a guest. I was a prisoner.

~ANYA’S POV~

The guards pulled me out of the van. They did not take me through the Grand front doors. Instead, they dragged me around to the shadows at the back of the building. We went down a set of dark, freezing concrete stairs, deep underground into the high-security holding block.

The air was bitterly cold and smelled like wet cement and bleach. We walked down a long, brightly lit corridor. The guard swiped a key card, and the heavy steel door beeped open. Inside was a small cell with barren concrete walls and a reinforced door.

They pushed me inside. I stumbled and fell onto the cold concrete floor. The guard slammed the heavy door shut, and the electronic lock engaged with a loud, echoing sound.

“Wait in here," the guard said in a cruel, mocking voice through the barrier window. “When we get news from the trauma team, we will know what to do with you. Pray to the heavens that the king wakes up, little girl. Because if his heart stops for good, yours will too."

The guard walked away, his heavy boots fading into the eerie quiet of the cell block.

I sat alone in the freezing room. I pulled my knees tightly to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself trying to preserve what little warmth I had left. I closed my eyes and prayed. I did not pray for my grand dream of the city anymore. I only prayed the king would open his piercing, icy blue eyes again.

That evening, I sat shivering in the freezing, windowless concrete holding cell deep beneath the palace. I hugged my knees to my chest and waited. I did not know what was going to happen to me.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy combat boots echoed outside. An electronic keypad beeped loudly, and the heavy steel security door swung open.

A Royal Guard in a sleek black uniform stepped into the cell. A woman followed behind him.

She was breathtakingly beautiful. She wore an elegant crimson designer dress that hugged her slim waist. Diamonds sparkled around her neck under the harsh fluorescent lights. But her face was twisted with pure anger.

I slowly got to my feet. Standing beside her, I felt so small. Her graceful posture and tall high heels only made me feel smaller. I opened my mouth, but before I could even say a single word…

The stranger raised her hand and slapped me across the face with brutal force. She hit me so hard that my head snapped to the side. A sharp, blinding pain shot through my jaw. Warm blood instantly filled my mouth.

I was so dizzy and confused. I slowly stood up straight again, my eyes wide. I wanted to ask why she hit me, but my voice was stuck in my throat. I was too shocked to speak.

Before I could even take a breath, she slapped me a second time, much harder than the first. Her heavy diamond rings dug into my cheek. The force pushed me backward. I lost my footing and fell hard into the cold concrete floor. I held my bleeding lip, looking up at her in total terror, still unable to make a sound.

“Shut your dirty mouth!" the woman shouted, even though I had not spoken a single word. She pointed a sharp, manicured finger right at my face. "You filthy peasant rat! If anything happens to the king, I will make sure you disappear. I will throw you into the river for the crocodiles myself.

She turned around and stormed out of the cell. Her designer heels clicked sharply on the concrete floor. The guard slammed the heavy steel door shut, and the electronic lock beeped, securing me inside again.

I lay on the freezing floor and I wept silently. The caramel skin of my cheek was swollen, bruised, and throbbing. That night, I knew my fate was sealed. My life was over. I would never get to experience life in the capital, and I would never go to a real school. My story was going to end in this dark, underground box.

A little while later, a small slot at the bottom of the door slid open. A guard pushed a stainless steel tray inside. It was my dinner.

I stared at the tray in disbelief. There was a warm roast pheasant, thick crusty white bread, and a flimsy plastic cup filled with clean water. It was the richest food I had ever had -– far better than the scraps of root vegetables I ate back at the Griggs cottage. But I felt so miserable and heartbroken that my stomach felt twisted into knots. I chewed on the soft bread, but I couldn't taste anything. It felt like eating dry sand.

For two days, I stayed in that cold cell. I never saw the sun. I did not know if it was day or night. I only sat on the hard floor, waiting for the guards to come and tell me the king was dead.

Then, on the afternoon of the third day, the heavy steel door finally opened.

A tall palace guard walked in. He did not look murderous this time. “Get up," he ordered gruffly.

I stood up, my small legs shaking. I thought he was taking me to be executed. But he didn't reach for the gun strapped to his thigh. He grabbed my arm and led me out of the holding block. We rode a sleek glass elevator up from the underground, finally stepping into the beautiful, sunlit parts of the royal estate.

He led me down a wide, brightly lit corridor with floor-to-ceiling windows, modern art, and plush red carpets. We stopped in front of a warm, clean maids' quarter.

The guard handed me a pile of folded clothes. “Go inside," he instructed. “Take a hot shower. Wash the dirt off your body and put on these clean clothes."

"Why?” I asked, my voice was barely a whisper. "Am I going to die?”

The guard looked down at me. "No. His Majesty seeks your presence.”

My heart jumped into my throat. The king was alive!

I quickly went into the room. I washed my dark hair and scrubbed the dirt off my skin in a luxurious, modern marble shower, though it took me a long time to gather courage to ask the guard how to use it. He later called a young maid to show me. The hot, steaming water felt like heaven in my sore, bruised muscles. I put on clean clothes. It was a simple floral gown. It fit my small body perfectly, and it was soft and incredibly warm.

When I was ready, the guard escorted me to a massive set of carved mahogany doors. Two Royal Guards pushed them open.

I walked into the grandest room I had ever seen. It was the royal audience hall, a breathtaking blend of modern architecture, expansive glass windows overlooking the city skyline, and imposing marble pillars.

At the far end of the room, sitting upon a sleek modern throne of dark leather and polished steel, was the King.

He looked terribly pale. He wore a dark tailored shirt that was slightly open at the collar, just enough to make room for the thick white bandages wrapped tightly around his injured chest. Captain Julian stood beside him, his hands clasped professionally behind his back.

But they were not alone.

~ANYA’S POV~

Standing near the base of the throne steps was a handsome prince, dressed in a sharp, tailored silver suit, watching the scene with quiet interest.

Opposite the prince, seated comfortably on an elegant velvet accent chair, was the vicious woman from the cell. She was wearing a sleek tailored emerald green designer dress. The moment I walked in, she crossed her legs and her eyes narrowed with pure, venomous hatred.

“Your Majesty, what is the meaning of this?" the woman snapped, her shrill voice echoing in the vast room. “Why is this filthy village rat still breathing in our palace? She should be locked away for life!"

My blood ran cold. I instinctively shrank back, terrified of this cruel, elegant woman who had tormented me earlier in the holding cell.

“Enough, Seraphina," King Alistair commanded. His voice was deep and rough, but it held such absolute authority that the woman immediately closed her mouth, though her eyes still burned holes into my skin.

I quickly dropped to my knees on the polished marble floor and bowed my head as low as I could.

The massive room went dead silent. I was terrified.

“Stand up," King Alistair ordered, his piercing icy blue eyes locking into me.

I slowly stood up, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, doing my best to ignore Lady Seraphina's deadly glare.

“Captain Julian told me everything," the king said, his commanding presence filling the space. “He told me how your father gave you away as collateral, how your family traded your life to save their own necks.”

I bit my bruised lip to stop myself from crying. “They are not my real family, Your Majesty. I am an orphan. But they showed me mercy by taking me in, and I will always be grateful for that."

Lady Seraphina let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Pathetic,” she muttered.

The king's brow furrowed as he studied me. The handsome prince just tilted his head, watching me closely. The king watched my face for a long time. Even standing at a distance, that rich scent of cedarwood and winter air reached me, making my heart pound with nervous fear.

“I know you did not try to assassinate me," the king finally said. “If you wanted me dead, you would have left me to bleed out in the woods."

I looked up in pure shock, my eyes finally meeting his cold blue stare. He believes me!

“Because of that, I will not order your death," the king continued. His voice was strict, leaving no room for argument. “I will let you live. In fact, I will give you two choices."

"Choices, Your Majesty?” I asked quietly.

"Yes,” the King said, leaning forward on the throne. "The first choice: I will give you a large sum of money, and my guards will drive you back to your village, back to your family.”

My stomach dropped. Go back to Silas and Martha? The fact that they feel threatened by Captain Julian's words means they will kill me.

“And choice number two?" I asked.

The king's icy blue eyes seemed to flash as the light from the chandeliers hit them. His gaze held mine. My heart lurched, but I refused to look away. “Choice number two," he said. "You can stay here at the palace, and start working as a maid. If you want.”

He looked at me, waiting. The throne hall was quiet. Every eye in the hall settled on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a noblewoman gripping the armrests of her chair, her eyes intentionally staying on me. I looked away from her.

I did not even have to think about it. Go back to being beaten and sleeping in the freezing, drafty barn? I could not do it. I did not see a future for me in that village.

I remembered Clara's wicked lies. The wicked smiles on their faces when the guards took me. I would rather scrub marble floors in the palace, than ever go back to those monsters.

I took a deep breath, looked up at the king and spoke.

“I choose the palace, Your Majesty. I will stay."

When I said those words, the huge throne room became silent. The noblewoman scoffed loudly. She looked at me from head to toe with pure disgust.

"Why would you choose the palace, you dirty thing?” Lady Seraphina spat, her beautifully contoured face twisting with anger. “You do not belong here.”

"Seraphina,” the king said sharply. His deep powerful voice cut through the quiet room like a knife. He looked at Lady Seraphina with a strict, final warning in his cold blue eyes. "Watch your words."

Lady Seraphina froze. She didn't push any longer. She forced a fake, sweet smile on her face and looked back at me. Her tone changed trying to sound reasonable, but her eyes were still burning with hate.

“I mean… why would you do that?” Lady Seraphina rephrased her question. "Won't it be better to go back home? The King will compensate you greatly. You could be rich in your little village.”

I shook my head, desperately looking at the king. “I do not want to," I said, making sure my voice was steady. “I do not want to go back to that family. I want to save money and go to school.”

The room fell silent again, I could feel the king gaze on me. I did not dare to look up into his handsome face. But even while staring at the marble floor, I could feel those icy blue eyes gazing intently at me. Finally, he nodded once and ordered one of the guards to escort me to the maids’ quarters.

******

My new working life in the royal estate started that exact day. I handled the hard labor very easily. Polishing marble floors and laundering clothes in the high-tech utility rooms was a million times better than working for free and beaten in that barn. But I quickly learned that the palace was full of its own hidden dangers.

The biggest danger to me was Lady Seraphina. She despised seeing me. Whenever I was cleaning the main halls with other maids, she would walk right toward me in her designer heels, and roll her eyes. She would pull her expensive silk dresses close to her legs, acting as if just standing near me would infect her with dirt.

“Get out of my sight, you little rat," she whispered to me one morning as I was wiping down the grand glass staircase. “You think you are special because the king favors you? You are nothing but trash."

After that day, I tried my best to avoid her. I memorized all the hidden back hallways and service elevators used by the staff. If I heard the sharp, loud clicking of her stilettos echoing down a corridor, I would quickly duck into a supply closet or turn the other way. I just wanted to do my job in peace.

Luckily, I did not have to face palace life alone. I had Maya – the maid who had helped me figure out the shower on my first day.

Maya had worked at the palace for five years. She was the same age as me, beautiful with rich, warm brown skin and thick, curly black hair that she always tied up in a neat, professional bun. She had big, brown eyes that always looked happy.

After the first day in the bathroom, Maya took me under her wing.

I remembered my first official shift. I was standing in a huge, confusing hallway, struggling to carry a tall stack of heavy white towels. I was completely lost and sure that a security guard was about to yell at me.

Then Maya walked over with a warm smile. She took half the towels from my aching arms and promised to help me find my way around. Over the next few weeks, she taught me everything about the royal household. We became very close.