The Kingdom's Bratty Heiress

“Stupid!” My voice sliced through the morning calm of the royal dining hall, sharp enough to make the servants flinch. The maid standing before me froze, her eyes wide like a startled deer. My orange juice—my fresh, long-awaited orange juice—spread across the polished marble floor in a sticky, wasteful puddle. I had been craving that since sunrise, imagining the cold sweetness on my tongue. And then this… this disaster. “I—I’m really sorry, Princess Sabrina,” she stammered, falling to her knees so quickly that her skirt wrinkled beneath her. The sight of her trembling annoyed me even more. I stood up, the legs of my chair scraping loudly, and strode toward her. Before she could lift her head, my hand collided with her cheek in a sharp slap that echoed through the entire room. “A-Ah!” Her hand flew to her face, eyes watering, lips trembling. Good. Maybe next time she’d think before being so careless. I felt the stares of the other staff at me—the usual mixture of fear, judgment, and resignation. They always looked at me like that. The evil princess of Letania. The heartless heir. I didn’t care. They could think what they wanted. They were all under the spell of one woman anyway. My stepmother. Their angel. My curse. “You are unbelievably clumsy! You know how long I’ve been waiting for that juice, and you just threw it away!” I shouted. No one moved. No one would ever dare. They all knew the consequences of defying me. I am Princess Sabrina—royal blood, rightful heir, future queen. “I—I’m very sorry, Princess Sabrina,” the maid repeated, but her tears only irritated me further. I rolled my eyes. They always did this. Apologize until their voices cracked, yet never learn. “You’re fired,” I said coldly. Her head snapped up, desperation flooding her expression. “P-Princess… please…” I stared back without emotion. If she truly valued her position, she would’ve been more careful. That was the rule here: fail once, suffer the consequences. “Please, have mercy,” she begged. “I’m the only one who’s feeding my sick grandmother. If I lose this job—” Her voice cracked, but my heart didn’t. I felt nothing. If anything, an empty numbness pulsed in my chest. Ever since Father married her—Sephanie, the woman who stole my mother’s place—my world had twisted into something cold and hollow. She smiled at everyone, played the perfect queen, but when we were alone, she bared teeth no one else could see. “What’s happening here?” a gentle voice floated through the room. I clenched my jaw. Speak of the devil. Queen Sephanie entered the dining hall, her gown trailing behind her like a beam of sunlight. The maids immediately bowed, as if she were a goddess made flesh. Her soft expression, her carefully measured steps, her sweet voice—it was all an act. A beautiful mask to hide the venom beneath. “Queen!” Everyone lowered their heads. Everyone except me. I never bowed to her. My mother—my real mother—was the only queen I would ever acknowledge. “What is going on?” she asked again, her gaze moving between the trembling maid and me. “Q—Queen, please spare me,” the maid cried, crawling to her like she was salvation itself. I rolled my eyes. Of course. Sephanie to the rescue. Her favorite performance—saving the helpless from the monstrous princess. The audience loved it every time. “Why? What happened?” Sephanie asked gently. “I accidentally spilled Princess Sabrina’s juice…” the maid whispered. “Because she’s stupid and clumsy,” I interjected. Everyone stiffened, waiting for the queen’s reaction. “Princess Sabrina,” she said softly, “that is not the proper way to speak to someone.” I raised an eyebrow. “And who are you to tell me that?” Her expression faltered for a second—hurt, fragile—but I knew it was all pretend. “I—I know I’m not your mother,” she murmured, “but please… show them respect.” Behind her, I heard servants murmuring, pitying her, admiring her humility, calling her kind. It made my stomach turn. If only they knew the monster hiding behind that gentle mask. “Whatever,” I muttered, turning on my heel and leaving the hall. I didn’t need to stay to know exactly what would happen next. She wouldn’t fire the maid. Of course, she wouldn’t. She needed everyone to adore her, to believe she was merciful and perfect. She visited the bustling cities and handed out food like a benevolent ruler, but she never traveled to the poor provinces. She picked her audience carefully—always somewhere where praises were loudest. A two-faced witch. And I hated her. “You brat!” I had barely stepped into my room when her shrill voice pierced the air. She shoved the door open without knocking, her expression twisted into something far from her public persona. “What now?” I asked, not even bothering to hide my boredom. “Treat everyone nicely,” she snapped, dropping the sweet act instantly. I laughed—a bitter, humorless sound. “Oh, please. Don’t act like my attitude doesn’t benefit you. You loved what happened earlier. You were the star again, weren’t you? The noble queen saves the day.” Her lips curled into a slow smirk. “Well… thanks to you, everyone likes me.” I shook my head. I wasn’t surprised. Not even a little. “But don’t you dare disrespect me again,” she said suddenly, her tone dropping, her eyes narrowing. I met her gaze coldly. “Respect should be earned.” Her face darkened. Before I could move or even flinch, her hand whipped across my cheek with a violent c***k. “A-Ah!” The sting spread instantly. “That hurts!” I stepped back, fury boiling in my chest, but just as I opened my mouth— The door burst open. Father stood there, anger radiating off him like heat from a fire. “What is happening here?” he demanded. And at that exact moment—perfectly timed, perfectly performed—Sephanie let out a gasp and collapsed onto the floor. “Princess Sabrina… pushed me,” she sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks. My jaw dropped. What. The. Actual. Hell.