The air in the King's private study was suffocatingly heavy. King Krollos did not look up from the map of Suncity spread across his golden desk as Sebastian stood before him, his chest heaving under his heavy robes.
"Sire, this is a direct violation of the old laws!" Sebastian pleaded, his face pale and slick with sweat. "To place a spy from the second queen's quarters into the crown princess's room is an insult to the memory of the late queen!"
Thwack!
The king slammed his hand onto the desk, the sudden noise echoing like thunder in the quiet room. He slowly lifted his head, his cold, golden eyes piercing right through the loyal eunuch.
"The crown princess?" Krollos sneered, a look of profound disgust washing over his features. "Elvira is my crown princess. Miranda is nothing but a shadow on my legacy, a reject of the sun goddess. And you, Sebastian, are forgetting your place."
The words cut through the room like a blade. Sebastian's chubby cheeks twitched, his mouth opening to argue, but the king cut him off with a chilling glare.
"You are a servant to this crown, not her guardian," Krollos said nonchalantly, waving a dismissive hand. "If my queen wishes to place a maidservant in that girl's room to ensure she doesn't bring further embarrassment to my name, her word is law. One more word from you, Sebastian, and I will have you stripped of your title and thrown into the dungeons. Dismissed."
Sebastian felt his stomach drop. His hands trembled at his sides as he bowed stiffly, the bitter taste of defeat burning in his throat. He had failed.
The next morning, the sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty earth of the training grounds. Miranda wiped the sweat from her brow, her limbs aching from hours of intense martial arts drills. But physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating reality awaiting her back at the palace.
Talia had spent the entire night sorting through her few belongings, watching her every movement with sharp, shifty eyes.
"Well, well, look who it is," a smug, mocking voice interrupted her thoughts.
Miranda didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. James walked into the sparring tent, a predatory smirk plastered across his face. He leaned arrogantly against the wooden weapon rack, crossing his arms as his eyes scanned her form.
"Heard the news from the palace gossips, Mira," James taunted, his brows moving up and down in rapid motion. "It seems Queen El gave you a little present. A primary maidservant? Or should we call her what she really is... a warden?"
Miranda kept her back to him, her clear grey eyes hardening. "Get lost, James. I'm not in the mood."
"Oh, come on, don't be like that," James chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing right beside her. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "You're a proud girl, Mira. But how long can you survive the humiliation? Your father treats you like garbage, and now you have a spy recording your every breath."
Miranda clenching her fists, her blood running hot, but she remained silent.
"You know..." James smirked, reaching out to lazily twirl a lock of her thick brown hair around his finger. "Being my concubine is far better than the absolute humiliation you are going through right now. My father is the General of the East. In my estate, you'd eat fine food, wear silk, and no one would dare touch you. Think about it. It's a much better life for a trash princess."
Miranda swiftly slapped his hand away, turning to face him with a cold glare that caught him off guard. "I would rather rot in the palace dirt, James."