The head maid wasted no time.
As soon as the others had been dismissed, she turned to face her, expression unreadable. The gray of her uniform matched the cold, strict air around her—precise, unwavering.
"You listen, and you listen well," she began, voice quiet yet sharp enough to cut.
She straightened her back, waiting.
"The castle has rules. You will follow them without question."
Her tone left no room for argument.
"No looking at higher-ranking people straight in the eye."
"In the presence of higher-ranking people, do not speak unless spoken to."
"Make yourself as invisible as possible."
"Do not go outside the castle once the sun goes down at six, curfew within the castle is at eight, max."
She glanced up at that, that checks why the castle was empty two nights ago. She looked at the head maid catching the faintest flicker of something in the head maid's expression
"Whatever the king says, you will do."
That one was expected.
"You must make sure his bath is prepared when he needs it."
"You must make sure his clothes are given to the laundry maids to be washed and arranged."
Routine, manageable tasks.
But then—
"Food... well, those will go to him on their own."
Her brow furrowed before she could stop it.
The head maid's gaze darkened. "Do not ask questions."
She nodded slowly.
"And one last thing—do not leave until you are dismissed."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, with a sharp nod, the head maid turned away.
The conversation was over.
But the weight of those rules settled in her bones.
___
The moment the princess stepped away from the head maid's presence, she exhaled, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of expectations. The castle felt larger now, heavier with the responsibilities placed on her.
Since her job had started, she was to be in the king's presence immediately. No one had given her a tour, no map of the castle—perhaps because she didn't need one. Her role was simple: follow the king.
She barely made it down the corridor before colliding with someone.
A maid
The girl stepped back swiftly, smoothing the front of her grey uniform. She had dark brown hair pinned into a neat bun, with sharp eyes that flickered over Valérie from head to toe. There was no immediate hostility—just curiosity.
"You must be the new one," she said.
The princess straightened. "Yes, I—" She hesitated, realizing she had yet to introduce herself to anyone. "I'm Valérie."
The woman's lips quirked slightly, almost amused.
"Elyra," she returned.
A brief pause, then Elyra leaned in slightly. "So… how did you get this position so fast?"
Valérie frowned. She couldn't exactly say the real reason. "I… don't know."
Elyra's gaze narrowed, as if searching for a lie.
Behind them, whispers drifted through the corridor. More maids slowed their steps as they passed, their eyes lingering. Valérie could hear the murmurs already.
Elyra clicked her tongue, folding her arms. "They're all wondering the same thing," she said. "He's never had a personal maid. No one gets assigned to serve him directly, apart from the head maid. Not unless…"
She let the sentence dangle, her eyes flickering with unspoken meaning.
A prickle of unease crept up Valérie's spine. She dipped into a small curtsy. "I have to go. See you around."
Elyra merely nodded, stepping aside.
As Valérie hurried down the hall, she exhaled softly, pushing aside the discomfort gnawing at her as she made her way to his chambers
King Dravenor, they had called him...Peculiar.
---
Valérie moved through the corridors, the murmurs of the other maids still lingering in her mind. Their curiosity, the sharp way Elyra had spoken, it was clear her presence here was unprecedented. Well, obviously.
She pushed the thoughts aside as she neared the king's chambers.
She hesitated before pushing open the door. Low voices drifted out.
The deeper, controlled tone was unmistakably the king's. But there was another voice, lower but quick. A conversation was already underway.
Valérie stepped in cautiously.
The room was just as imposing as she had expected ; high walls of dark stone, a large window casting the glow of moonlight across the space, and the ever-present coldness that seemed to cling to the air.
Dravenor sat at his desk, but he was not alone.
Standing beside him was a man dressed in dark leathers, his posture both relaxed and sharp, like a blade at ease but ready to strike at any moment. He had a strong jaw, black hair, and eyes keen and calculating. The moment she entered, they flickered to her.
She paused near the door, unsure if she was meant to be here.
Dravenor barely acknowledged her presence. Instead, he gestured toward the papers on his desk, speaking to the man beside him.
"Have you found anything?"
The man exhaled through his nose, fingers grazing over a parchment. "Only fragments. It's an old dialect—older than most of the texts we've recovered." He shook his head. "We need more time."
A muscle in Dravenor's jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
Valérie's eyes flickered toward the parchment in question. A symbol caught her attention—a circle with ragged lines around its arches, like a bite from some strange creature.
She felt a strange familiarity
Dravenor raised his head, facing her. "Come."
The man beside him stiffened, his frown deepening. Random people shouldn't be seeing this, he thought. Even if they wouldn't understand it, this was still classified information. But he said nothing. He waited—because he trusted his lord wouldn't act without reason.
Valérie hesitated before stepping forward, coming to stand before the desk as Dravenor turned the parchment toward her.
"Read it."
The man's head snapped up, his shock breaking through his usual composure. "My lord—"
But Dravenor said nothing more, waiting.
Valérie let her eyes skim the parchment. The words slipped easily into meaning
She hesitated only briefly before she began to read aloud.
Both men watched her closely.
The man's skepticism shifted into intrigue.
Dravenor remained still, unreadable. But there was something new in his gaze now—something sharp, assessing.
When she finished, silence followed.
The air felt heavier.
Valérie slowly lifted her eyes to meet Dravenor's once more, waiting for his reaction.
For a long moment, he simply watched her.
Then finally—
"…Interesting."
That was all he said.
The man beside him let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms. "That's one word for it," he muttered, disbelief and confusion laced in his voice.
Valérie wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
But before she could dwell on it, Dravenor spoke again, his tone back to its usual cold indifference.
"That will be all."
Just like that.
She nodded quickly.
Was that a dismissal? Or just for the reading?
Uncertain, she stepped back and stood near the door