Chapter 15: new alliances?

Chapter 15: new alliances?

I sat on the edge of the narrow bed in my shabby little room, staring at the faint cracks in the stone wall.

My cheek still stung from Morgana’s slap earlier, even though the swelling had gone down.

The sting wasn’t just from the impact, it was from the humiliation.

Every time I thought about it, I could still hear the laughter of the other maids echoing in my ears. Their taunts replayed in my head.

“She deserves it,” one of them had whispered when Morgana left.

“She thinks she’s something just because the princes won’t leave her alone,” another had added with a cruel smirk.

I buried my face in my hands and tried to force the words away, but they clung to me.

A knock rattled the door.

“Blair?” A voice slipped through, soft but unfamiliar. “Can I come in?”

I froze. No one ever asked permission before stepping into my space. They usually just barged in.

“…Who is it?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“It’s Aristea. I’ve just been assigned to the castle.”

The latch creaked, and before I could even tell her to enter, the door opened slowly. A girl stepped in, about my age, maybe younger. She had wide brown eyes and curly hair tied back neatly with a ribbon. Her uniform was crisp, unlike mine, which always looked like it had been dragged through ash.

“Hi,” she said softly, almost timid, as though she was afraid of startling me.

I blinked. “What do you want?”

“I… wanted to check on you.” She gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I saw what happened earlier. With Lady Morgana.”

My stomach clenched. I looked away, focusing on the crack in the wall again. “You shouldn’t talk about that. People will hear.”

“I don’t care if they hear.”

That caught me off guard. I looked back at her. She didn’t seem like the others. No smug expression. No hidden laughter. She looked… genuine. But I didn’t trust it. I couldn’t afford to.

“You’ll care when they start tormenting you too,” I muttered.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice as if the walls themselves might be listening. “They already do. I’ve been working in the lower estates, pretending to be like them. But the truth is...I was sent here to find you.”

My head snapped up. “…What?”

Aristea’s eyes softened. “I’ve been searching for you for years.”

I stood up sharply, my chair scraping against the stone floor. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“No. I don’t.” She took a deep breath and moved closer, lowering her tone until it was nearly a whisper. “You’re not just some maid, Blair. You are the granddaughter of the exiled king. You are supposed to be sitting at the throne table, not cleaning up scraps from under it.”

The words slammed into me, making it hard to breathe.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, I don't want to think about that.”

“It is.”

Her gaze was unwavering, too calm for it to be a lie. Still, my chest tightened with disbelief.

“You sound insane,” I spat. “Do you know what happens to people who spread things like that? They disappear.”

“Do you think I don’t know the risk?” Aristea stepped closer, her voice breaking with urgency. “I left everything behind to get here. My family, my safety, my name. Because I was told that the lost bloodline must be restored. That means you.”

I backed up until my shoulders pressed against the cold wall. My pulse pounded in my ears.

“You expect me to believe I’m supposed to be queen? That I belong up there with them? They treat me like filth.”

“That’s because they’re afraid of you,” Aristea said, her voice steady now. “Lady Morgana especially. She knows what you are. She’s been trying to stamp you out before anyone notices.”

The slap. The venom in Morgana’s eyes. It all replayed in my mind. Could that really be true?

“I don’t…” I whispered, my throat tightening. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to fight for some throne. I just want to be left alone.”

Aristea’s eyes glistened, but she didn’t back down. “Do you think they’ll ever let you be left alone? Look at what happened today. You can’t keep your head down forever, Blair. Sooner or later, you’ll have to decide if you’re going to let them break you… or if you’ll take what was always supposed to be yours.”

Her words cut deeper than Morgana’s slap ever could.

I turned away, pressing my palms into the rough wall, trying to ground myself. My breath came quick and shallow.

“You don’t understand,” I said finally. “You don’t know what it’s like here. I don’t have a choice.”

“You do.”

Her voice was quiet, but certain. “You have more of a choice than any of us. You’re the rightful heir to the throne.”

Before I could respond, laughter echoed down the hallway outside. High-pitched and cruel.

The door wasn’t shut all the way. A pair of maids leaned in the frame, their smirks dripping with mockery.

“Rightful heir?” one of them sneered. “Listen to her. She’s filling your head with fairy tales.”

The other snorted. “You? Queen? Don’t make me laugh. The only thing you’ll ever reign over is a broom and dustpan.”

Heat rose to my face as the girls cackled. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I wanted to scream at them. Tell them to shut up. But the words stuck in my throat, heavy and useless.

Aristea, though, stepped forward, her expression like steel. “You should be careful with your mouths. If you knew who she really was—”

The first maid cut her off with a scoff. “Oh please. Keep telling your bedtime stories, new girl. Maybe she’ll believe them. Everyone else knows the truth. Blair’s nothing.”

The other one leaned in, her eyes glinting. “If she’s lucky, maybe she’ll be Onyx’s whore. That’s as close to a throne as she’ll ever get.”

Their laughter trailed down the hall as they finally left.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I sank back onto the bed, my body trembling. My face burned, not just from anger but from shame. Their words had dug into the part of me I hated the mostC the part that wondered if they were right.

Aristea crouched beside me. “Don’t listen to them. They’re scared of what you could become.”

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. “What if they’re right? What if I’m just nothing?”

She shook her head firmly. “You’re not nothing. You’re the granddaughter of a king. And I’ll prove it to you.”

Her hand brushed mine, grounding me. Her touch was steady, warm, unlike the icy cruelty I was used to.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” she said softly. “But just know this, whether you want it or not, the blood in your veins makes you dangerous to them. And they will never stop trying to destroy you.”

Her words sank deep, heavy and unshakable.

I didn’t know if I could believe her. I didn’t know if I wanted to. But for the first time in years, something in me stirred. A small, fragile spark.

Hope.