Chapter 2: The Next Morning
Amelia awoke the next morning to the pale light of dawn filtering through the narrow window. Slowly, she stood up, her body aching from the cold floor. She walked to the window and gently pushed it open. A chill breeze brushed against her skin as she looked out at the unfamiliar world she had been thrown into.
It was the King's palace—she knew that much. But this wasn't just any king. It was his palace. The palace of a heartless king.
Turning back to the room, she took a good look at her surroundings for the first time. The space was barren. There was no bed, no blanket, not even a pillow. Just four cold walls and a floor of stone. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed silently down her cheeks.
Suddenly, the heavy door creaked open. Two guards stepped in, their faces hard and unreadable. Panic surged through her chest.
"What do you want? Please, stay away from me!" she screamed, backing up against the wall. But they said nothing. They were only following orders.
"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded, her voice trembling. But her cries were ignored. The guards seized her by the arms and dragged her from the room. She kicked and screamed, trying desperately to free herself, but their grip was too strong. Eventually, she stopped struggling, surrendering to their strength.
They brought her to the palace fields—an open space where dozens of workers were already laboring under the rising sun. She scanned the crowd and recognized many of them. They were her people. Her heart broke at the sight, and fresh tears ran down her face. The guards dropped her roughly to her knees and returned to their posts. She sobbed, alone and humiliated.
Moments later, another guard approached and placed some farming tools in front of her. She stared at them, confused.
"His Royal Majesty commands you to clear the field," the guard announced coldly.
She looked at the field, then at the tools, disbelief etched across her face. "All of this? How on earth does he expect me to do all of this?" she shouted. Her voice cracked with pain and frustration, but the guards said nothing. Instead, they ordered the other workers to leave.
Most of them hesitated. Despite the cruelty of her father, Amelia had always been kind to them. She had reduced the impossible taxes he had imposed and often stood up for the weak. They watched with heavy hearts as they walked away, leaving her to suffer alone.
She looked at the hoe lying at her feet. "How does he expect me to do this?" she whispered to herself. "I've never done anything like this in my life. Why is he making me suffer like this?"
But she picked up the hoe anyway, unsure of what she was doing. Her hands were untrained, her body unaccustomed to such labor, but she worked.
King Henderson had woken earlier in his luxurious chambers. He took a long, hot shower, then returned to his room where Omega was waiting.
"Good morning, My Lord," Omega said, bowing his head.
"Morning. How is it going?" the King asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Pardon?" Omega stammered, playing dumb.
"I hate repeating myself, Omega, and you know that," Henderson snapped.
"My apologies, My Lord. She's in the field now. Also, the cabinet members are waiting in the courtroom."
"Tell them I'll be there shortly," Henderson said flatly.
He needed to celebrate his conquest. Two hours later, the courtroom was filled with the sounds of celebration. It was a victory for Henderson—he now ruled Amelia's kingdom. After the court meeting and festivities, he returned to his chamber. He briefly remembered Amelia was still in the field, but quickly pushed the thought aside. Let her suffer.
He changed into a sleek black suit and left the palace, heading for his company headquarters. Henderson wasn't just a king. He was a businessman. Ruthless. Feared. Respected. A man who never tolerated mistakes. Even the smallest slip-up could get someone fired.
By 7 PM, Henderson returned to the palace. As he entered his bedroom, he found Saanvi lying on his bed, dressed in a silk night robe. He ignored her and went straight to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he emerged. She was still there.
"What do you want, Saanvi?" he asked coldly.
"What else, My Lord? You are what I want," she replied, her voice soft and sultry, eyes gleaming.
He stared at her, then sighed. "Don't you have anything else to do?"
She frowned. "My Lord, I only want to spend time with you tonight."
"If I wanted you, I would have sent the guards for you. But I didn't. I want to be alone," he said without even glancing her way.
"But… Your Highness—"
"Leave," he commanded sharply, cutting her off.
Humiliated, she stood and hurried out of the room.
The King sat on his bed for a moment, then rose and walked to the window. He stared at the moon and stars.
"Amelia's kingdom is mine now," he muttered. "And I will make the so-called princess suffer."
Just then, Omega entered his chamber.
"My Lord," Omega said, bowing. "The girl you ordered to work in the field—"
"What about her?"
"She is still there… and she has not eaten anything since morning."
Henderson's eyes darkened with fury. Omega immediately fell to his knees.
"I'm sorry, My Lord. But please… have mercy on her."
"Mercy?" Henderson snapped. "Omega, I want her to suffer. Why are you becoming soft? Have you forgotten what her father did to my mother?"
"Why!?" he roared.
"I'm sorry, My Lord," Omega whispered.
"Leave," Henderson growled.
Omega bowed his head and left. The King, breathing heavily, picked up a glass of wine and hurled it against the wall, shattering it.
Back in the field, Amelia collapsed to the ground. Her limbs were weak, her spirit broken. She had nothing left to give. Death would be a welcome escape, but the King would not let her die—not until he was satisfied with her pain.
She gazed up at the sky with a sad smile. She thought of her little brother and her kind maid. She remembered the dark days in her father's palace. After losing both parents at a young age, her life had been nothing but torment. When Henderson stormed the palace and killed Grayson, she had thought perhaps it was finally over.
But it wasn't. It was only the beginning.
Despite Grayson's cruelty, Amelia had always tried to bring light to her people. She had been the one bright spot in a land ruled by shadows.
11 PM
Henderson sat up in bed. He couldn't sleep. Something gnawed at him. He rose, threw on a cloak, and left his room. His guards tried to follow, but he stopped them with a glance.
He walked to the gates of the field. The guards stationed there stood at attention as he approached.
"Open the gate," he commanded.
One of the guards rushed to obey. Henderson stepped inside and scanned the field. His eyes landed on a frail figure huddled in the corner—Amelia. She was asleep, shivering, curled into herself like a wounded animal.
Despite everything, something inside him stirred. A flicker of pity.
He quickly looked away.
"Take her inside," he ordered quietly, then turned and walked back to his chamber, his hands behind his back.
Elsewhere in the palace, Maya and Richard managed to eat at least twice a day—morning and evening. But Richard was restless. He was worried about his sister.
"I want to see my sister," he said. "You told me I would see her today, but I didn't. Has the King done something to her?"
"No, child," Maya answered gently. "She is probably busy with work."
"I want to talk to the King. I want to tell him my sister is innocent. The real wicked one was Grayson!" he said with fiery conviction.
"Your Highness," Maya whispered, "I do not think the guards will let you see the King. He is… not a good man."
Richard sighed and laid his head on Maya's lap. She sang softly to him until he drifted off to sleep.
The Next Morning
Amelia was jolted awake by a splash of cold water across her body. As she blinked rapidly, a blurry figure stood above her—someone unfamiliar. Someone like her. She had not expected to see kindness or familiarity in a place like this.