CHAPTER FOUR: Pretty problems
1416 Words
There were many things Naya expected when she became the First Prince’s personal servant. Psychological warfare? Sure. Public humiliation? Why not. A daily schedule filled with chores so absurd she was certain he had a personal vendetta against her spirit? Absolutely.
Prince Kael, it seemed, had made it his personal mission to test the limits of her patience and possibly her sanity.
“Naya,” he said one morning, without looking up from his desk, “the floors look too clean. Redo them. With lemon water.”
She blinked. “They sparkle, my prince.”
“I prefer them to glow.”
On another occasion, he summoned her at midnight.
“I want to hear the sound of silence,” he declared.
She stared. “Then don’t talk.”
He smirked. “You’ll be the silence.”
So, she stood in the corner of his chamber. For two hours. Doing nothing.
Another day, he demanded all his scrolls be dusted—individually—but only using the feather of a skyhawk, a bird that didn’t exist anymore, probably because it went extinct avoiding this exact situation.
It was hell. Gorgeous, royal, gold-trimmed hell.
And Naya, being Naya, endured it with the grace of a tired forest gremlin.
“I think he’s trying to break me,” she told the laundry maid one evening, dunking Kael’s robe into soapy water.
“No,” the girl whispered back. “He’s not trying. He already has.”
But just when Naya thought life couldn’t get worse—enter Queen Edora.
The head lady, Sarika, stormed into the servants’ hall, breathless, eyes wild.
“Attention! Orders from Her Majesty! With the arrival of royal guests from the Kingdom of Asterwyn, all servants must appear presentable. Proper uniforms. Groomed hair. No smelling like potatoes!”
“Who smells like potatoes?” Naya asked, insulted.
Sarika narrowed her eyes. “You.”
That evening, they handed out new uniforms: sleek, tailored dresses in deep navy and silver trims. Naya’s usual ash-smudged aesthetic was replaced with a gown that clung gently to her form, high neckline but fitted sleeves, and a silver ribbon that tied around her waist.
Her hair, freshly washed and combed (twice, as Sarika insisted she had twigs in it), tumbled down her back in soft waves. Her skin, always pale from forest moonlight and healing salves, now looked like porcelain kissed by sunbeams.
As she walked into the servant quarters that morning, silence fell.
Then—laughter.
“Look at you!” giggled Mirra, the cook’s helper. “You look like a lost princess!”
“Or a noble disguised as a servant,” another snorted.
“Careful,” Sarika muttered, half-joking. “One of the princes might mistake you for a potential bride and cause a scandal.”
Naya rolled her eyes. “Relax. The only thing I attract is chaos and unreasonable task lists.”
But the teasing followed her all the way to Prince Kael’s chambers.
She knocked, bracing herself.
“Enter,” came the usual cold command.
She pushed the door open—and froze.
So did he.
Kael sat in his high-backed chair, reading something, his ever-present scowl in place. But when he looked up and saw her, he didn’t speak.
His eyes roamed over her slowly, and for once, it wasn’t in a way that made her skin crawl. It was… quiet. Curious.
Maybe even human.
His fingers twitched over his parchment. “New uniform?”
“It’s either this or be executed by the Queen’s fashion sense,” she deadpanned.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “You may begin your duties.”
No sarcasm. No absurd tasks. Just that.
All day, he was quieter. More reserved. Naya kept waiting for him to shout, to throw a tantrum about a misplaced quill or accuse her of folding his cloak with the wrong kind of reverence. But nothing.
Something was wrong.
She swept. She dusted. She adjusted the drapes. He said thank you once.
“Am I dying?” she asked herself in the mirror during her break.
But the reason for the shift soon became clear.
That evening, the royal guests arrived.
The Kingdom of Asterwyn, known for its wine, its wealth, and its dangerously charming Prince Adrien, had come with fanfare and horses that wore jeweled saddles like it was casual. The palace exploded into motion.
And Naya? She tried to keep her head down. Again.
Tried being the keyword.
She carried a tray of fruit through the hall near the royal dining room, her steps steady, her gaze locked on the floor.
Until someone stepped directly into her path.
“Forgive me,” a voice like velvet said.
She looked up—and nearly dropped the tray.
Prince Adrien of Asterwyn had the face of a storybook hero. Golden hair, sea-blue eyes, and a smile that could disarm entire armies. He looked at her not like she was a servant, but like she was a mystery he’d very much like to solve.
“You’re not from around here,” he said softly.
“I—uh—I mean—I live in the palace?”
He chuckled. “Yes. But you don’t belong here.”
Oh no. Not another poetry-in-hair prince.
“I’m delivering fruit,” she said, trying to step around him.
He stepped with her.
“You’re quite stunning for a servant.”
“And you’re quite bold for a guest.”
He laughed again, delighted. “Would you consider leaving with us when we depart? I’d pay handsomely. Gold, land… even your own greenhouse if that’s your thing.”
Naya’s jaw dropped. “Are you trying to buy me?”
“I’m offering to save you,” he said. “This palace doesn’t deserve beauty like you.”
She nearly choked. “And your kingdom does?”
He smiled like it was a challenge. “Come with me and find out.”
Unfortunately for them both, someone else had heard the entire conversation.
Prince Kael.
He stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, eyes like winter storms. Cold. Furious.
“Step away from her,” he growled, voice sharp as a blade.
Adrien turned, nonchalant. “I was merely admiring palace service. Your staff is quite… captivating.”
“She is not for sale.”
Adrien smirked. “Then maybe she shouldn’t be dressed like temptation.”
Kael’s jaw clenched. “Leave. Now.”
The two princes stared each other down. Royal tension crackled like static in the air. Eventually, Adrien bowed dramatically toward Naya.
“Think about it,” he whispered, before walking off with that infuriating grin.
Naya stood frozen. Then, slowly, she turned to Kael.
“Would now be a bad time to ask for a raise?”
Kael glared. “You’re dismissed for the day.”
She didn’t argue. She ran.
But the drama? It didn’t end there.
That night, she felt eyes following her through the halls. Whispers grew louder.
“She caught Prince Adrien’s eye.”
“Do you think she used magic?”
“Maybe she’s trying to become queen.”
The Queen herself summoned Sarika.
Later, Sarika pulled Naya aside. “Stay away from the royal halls. The Queen’s displeased. Rumors are you’ve caught too much attention—including the King’s.”
Naya’s blood ran cold. “The King?”
“His eyes lingered too long at supper. The Queen noticed.”
Oh. Oh no.
This wasn’t just chaos anymore. This was the kind of political nightmare that got people “mysteriously missing” or “accidentally poisoned with almond cakes.”
She tried to protest. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t ask to look like a half-decent human being in this dress!”
Sarika whispered sharply, “Sometimes, it doesn’t matter. Beauty is dangerous in the wrong place. Especially when princes and kings are around.”
That night, Naya lay awake in her cot, staring at the ceiling, heart thudding.
Kael had looked at her differently.
Adrien had offered to steal her away.
The King had noticed her.
And the Queen?
The Queen was watching.
“Dear universe,” she whispered, “next time you want to throw my life into a romantic-political horror show, at least give me a warning.”
In the shadows of her room, she heard a creak.
And for the first time in years, the witch who’d survived cruel sisters, wild forests, and sarcastic spells—felt afraid.
- Writer
