Shadows of Betrayal and Royal Reckoning

"Well, who would have thought... the cleric's daughter, our future queen," Penelope said, but my glare silenced her. Augustus glanced briefly over at my table and nodded to me. Alice looked anxious, and I could have sworn I saw a gray flicker cross her eyes.

After the announcement, the ball slowed down. Some couples danced in the grand hall, while others chose to eat quietly at their tables. I rose and walked to the palace balcony, needing some fresh air.

After a few moments with my eyes closed, meditating and breathing deeply, I heard someone call out to me:
— "A tough day, isn’t it?" Rafar used the same sarcastic tone as before.
— "Not tough, just... unexpected."
— "To the cleric, a daughter is only worth something if she marries a noble," Rafar reflected. "Do you think they'll send you away after this?"
He’d asked a question that struck a nerve. Would Mai’s father still accept her if she didn't marry the prince?
— "Good question," I said, gazing at the stars. "Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. All I need is to find a way to survive, noble or not."
Rafar looked at me intently before smiling.
— "It makes no difference to me," he said, stepping away from the wall where he’d been leaning. "I haven’t forgotten about our dance."
I took his hand, and we returned to the ballroom just as the orchestra struck up a new melody. Mai was a natural dancer, and Rafar was swift as steel. With reflexes both sharp and graceful, our dance mesmerized the entire room.
— "They make a perfect pair," I overheard a young man say.
— "She should marry him, after what Augustus did," murmured an older woman.

At the end, we took our bows, and Rafar escorted me out of the ball. My carriage awaited.
— "How did you…?"
— "I thought so," he said, kissing my hand. "Until tomorrow, Miss Cleric’s Daughter."

***

In the end, I had no choice but to serve the household as a maid. Even with my twisted ankle, I was forced to do hard labor without a moment’s rest. By evening, I remembered the ball with a smile. Rafar would never fall in love with me now, dressed in second-hand clothes while scrubbing floors.

“I’m sure they’re mad at me because Lorita is in prison… Was that her plan from the start?” I wondered as I heard another giggle from the corridor. I was on the wrong path. I shouldn’t be thinking about what had already happened, but rather what I could do to get out of this situation.

All the maids rushed toward the main hall, abandoning their tasks with curious expressions. I followed them, unaware of my own duties (since I had completed all of them), as no one intended to help me.

They all lined up as a black carriage approached, bearing a royal emblem. The carriage stopped in front of the mansion, and a royal envoy stepped out.

“We’ve arrived, Your Majesty,” he announced, opening the carriage door graciously.

Rafar emerged, dressed in his black cloak. His long black hair was tied in a Nordic braid, and his expression darkened as he saw me among the crowd of servants. My father approached him with a smile that betrayed his ambition to serve the prince from the neighboring kingdom.

"Welcome, Your Majesty," he greeted, maintaining his smile. "It is an honor to have you in our residence! Please, come in."

"Indeed, it must be an honor for your wallet, cleric," Rafar replied with his usual sarcastic tone. "There’s no need to prolong this. I’ve already found what I came for."

One of the maids shoved me, making me fall to the ground. I tried to get up to continue watching the exchange between Rafar and my father, but the maids joined forces to push me down again.

“Poor thing, she still thinks she's a princess,” one of them laughed, kicking me in the stomach.

“You should have thought twice before incriminating Lorita, little girl,” sneered another, shoving me again as I tried to stand.

My vision began to blur, a warning that I might faint if nothing changed. I was the protagonist of this story! Why was this happening? Suddenly, I noticed the maids’ feet moving away from me, and a hand stretched out in my direction.

“Stand up,” a voice commanded, firm and resonant. I recognized that voice. It was Rafar. But why did his voice sound unsteady?

“What did you do to your daughter, cleric?” he demanded, holding me as I struggled to stay conscious. Oh no… that tone meant he was angry… and his anger could only mean one thing: destruction.