Chapter 1
1156 Words
“Your Highness… Your Highness.”
Princess Zayla felt a soft tapping on her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, her head pounding as she slowly opened her eyes.
Hilda’s face hovered above her—upside down, pale with worry.
Hilda was officially just a servant assigned to Princess Zayla, but the palace had been a lonely place. Somewhere along the way, boredom turned into trust, and trust into something closer. Zayla treated her less like a servant and more like a sister—someone she laughed with, argued with, and dragged into trouble.
“You scared the life out of me,” Hilda said, her voice trembling.
Zayla groaned and tried to sit up. Hilda quickly helped her. Zayla’s legs was still dipped in the river, cold water soaking her boots, while the rest of her body lay on dry ground.
“What happened?” Zayla asked, blinking around in confusion.
“You slipped,” Hilda said. “You were trying to step closer to the water, then your foot slid and you fell. You passed out. I told you sneaking out of the palace was a bad idea.”
Zayla waved it off as she stood, brushing dirt from her dress. “I’m fine. And I’m not done having fun yet.”
She turned to walk away.
Hilda stared at her for a moment, then sighed and hurried after her. “At least warn me before you nearly die next time, Your Highness.”
They hadn’t gone far when figures stepped out from between the trees.
Zayla stopped.
Men. Rough-looking. Too many.
She tightened her grip on Hilda’s hand and turned sharply toward another path—only for more men to appear there too.
Hilda’s voice rose in anger. “Do you fools have any idea who you’re standing in front of?”
The men burst out laughing, closing in slowly.
Zayla stepped forward, her chin lifting. “Last chance,” she said quietly. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
She whispered under her breath and flicked her fingers toward them.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
The men laughed harder.
“Is she trying to cast a spell?” one mocked. “Look at her hands!”
“How embarrassing,” another said. “Pretty girl thinks she’s dangerous.”
One of them stepped closer, eyes roaming over her. “You’re beautiful. Why don’t you come with us? We’ll show you a good time.”
Zayla’s heart slammed against her ribs as she slowly stepped back.
Suddenly—
“YAHHH!”
Hilda swung a thick stick with all her strength.
Crack.
The stick snapped clean in half against the man’s head. He dropped with a groan.
Hilda froze, staring at the broken stick in her hands. “Oh.”
“RUN!” Zayla shouted.
They took off without looking back, skirts flying, feet pounding the ground as the men yelled and chased after them.
Zayla leapt over a fallen branch, breath burning. “I really need to take my spell lessons seriously!”
“Yes,” Hilda gasped, barely keeping up, “because next time, I might not find another stick!”
They ran harder, fear pushing them forward.
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They ducked behind a massive tree, its roots thick and twisted, wide enough to hide them both. Zayla pressed her back against the bark, pulling Hilda close. They didn’t dare breathe too loudly.
Boots crunched against leaves nearby.
The men were still there.
Zayla could hear them—low voices, annoyed, circling, scanning the dark like hunters who’d lost sight of their prey.
Hilda clenched her fists, her voice barely a breath. “Perverts.”
“Shh,” Zayla whispered sharply, her heart hammering. “Don’t.”
A shadow passed close. Too close.
Zayla held her breath, fingers digging into the rough tree bark. One wrong sound and they were done.
Minutes stretched. Felt longer than they were.
Finally, the voices drifted farther away. Someone cursed under his breath. Another kicked at the ground in frustration.
“They vanished,” one of them muttered. “Check the river.”
Footsteps moved off. Slowly. Reluctantly.
Zayla waited. Counted her breaths. One. Two. Three.
Only when the forest fell quiet again did she dare peek around the tree.
Nothing.
She grabbed Hilda’s hand. “Now.”
They didn’t argue. They ran—low, fast, careful—until their lungs burned and the sounds of the forest swallowed everything behind them.
They didn’t stop until the market finally came into view.
Only then did Zayla slow, her voice shaking despite herself.
“That was too close.”
Hilda nodded, still catching her breath. “Next time you say ‘fun,’ Your Highness… remind me to faint first.”
Zayla almost laughed.
They wandered through the market like two ordinary girls, weaving through stalls thick with noise and color. Vendors shouted over one another, fabrics fluttered in the breeze, and the scent of spices hung heavy in the air.
Zayla stopped at a small stand filled with hairpins. She picked one up, stepped closer, and gently slid it into Hilda’s hair. “This one suits you,” she said, tilting her head. “See? It brings out your eyes.”
Hilda’s cheeks warmed. “Stop that, Your Highness,” she laughed, reaching up to touch it. “People will start thinking you’re the maid and I’m the princess.”
Zayla laughed.
She picked up another pin and held it out. “Try this one instead.”
Zayla took it, but as she studied it, her smile slowly faded.
“What is it?” Hilda asked at once. “Did I choose a terrible one?”
Zayla shook her head, forcing a small smile. “No. It’s fine.” She hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “I just… sometimes I wish I had a mother. I don’t even know what she looks like.”
Hilda fell silent.
Zayla caught the look on her face and burst into laughter, waving her hand. “You should see yourself right now. You look like I just told you the world is about to end.”
“That’s not something you should say so lightly,” Hilda huffed. “You say things like that and then laugh like it’s nothing.”
Zayla tugged her along, brushing past the stalls. “I didn’t come here to brood. Let’s move.”
They left the stall and continued walking, blending back into the crowd. For a while, everything felt easy again—until loud voices drifted from an open square ahead.
Men crowded around rough wooden tables, coins clattering, dice rolling. Some groaned in frustration, others shouted in triumph.
Zayla slowed and glanced at Hilda. A familiar smile crept onto her face.
“No,” Hilda whispered immediately. “Absolutely not.”
Without answering, Zayla turned and headed straight toward the gambling tables.
“Your Highness,” Hilda hissed, hurrying after her.
Zayla only smiled wider.
- Writer
