Chapter 3

• "Here we are, my Queen. This is your room,” she said.
• I scanned the space in disbelief. The room looked unreal, almost dreamlike. What was I supposed to do with something this large? The bed alone was wide enough to hold four people, and the bedside tables were exquisitely crafted.
• I turned and caught my reflection in an enormous, crystal-clear mirror. The dressing table was crowded with creams, oils, and delicate bottles. I felt dazed. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.
• “I am sure my Queen loves her room,” she said softly. When I turned, she was smiling faintly, her gaze fixed on the floor. I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to behave like royalty, not a stunned village girl.
• “Yes, I do. It truly caught my fancy,” I replied, sitting before the mirror and pretending this level of luxury was familiar to me.
• “I am glad you love it, my Queen. I personally designed the room for you,” she said, blushing with pride. “I am certain you would like to know my duties as your personal maid.”
• She spoke as I paced the room, still overwhelmed.
• “Yes, please tell me,” I said, turning back to her.
• “I am here to serve you and you alone,” she explained with a bow. “I will prepare your meals unless the King requests a family dining. I will bathe you, dress you, and escort you wherever you wish to go. In short, I will take care of you entirely, my Queen.”
• “You will bathe me?” I exclaimed, startled. She lifted her head slightly.
• “I hope my Queen has no objection?” she asked politely.
• “No. I suppose I do not,” I replied, though my mind was racing.
• So she would see me naked. Regularly.
• What was wrong with the rich? Why would I stand idle while someone else bathed me simply because I was a Queen, allegedly?
• “My Queen, may I remove your outer garments and prepare your bath? You must be exhausted from the journey. I would also like to give you a massage to help you relax,” she said gently, stepping closer.
• “What will I change into? I came here with nothing,” I asked.
• “The King arranged clothes and shoes in various sizes so you would not have any difficulty,” she said, opening the wardrobe.
• My breath caught.
• The closet was overflowing with dresses, shoes, and finely made garments. It was far too much for one person. If they were truly mine, I wished I could send some to Seren and Rosamund. Everything was beautiful, crafted from rich fabrics.
• “That was thoughtful of him,” I said quietly, allowing her to remove my gown.
• After a warm bath and a soothing massage, I sat before the mirror while she worked carefully on my hair, applying creams and brushing it smooth. Slowly, the dullness faded, and the shine returned to my bone-straight red hair.
• I had always hated my hair, especially its color. Now I realized it had simply lacked care. Though there were many breakages, which was expected after years of illness, it looked healthier than it had in a long time.
• Still, no matter how carefully she styled it, my hair could not rival hers.
• I watched her reflection as she applied lotion to my freckled skin with gentle precision. Her devotion was unmistakable.
• “Are you from this kingdom?” I asked softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
• She smiled faintly. “No, my Queen. I am from Bemuga, the neighboring kingdom.”
• She set the brush down. “I am finished with your dressing.”
• “You did an excellent job,” I said, though my gaze drifted to my chest. The gown revealed far more than I was comfortable with. According to her, the King preferred such clothing.
• Of course he did. The infamous ladies’ man.
• “Is there nothing I can do to cover myself a little?” I asked, tugging at the fabric, though it barely moved.
• “I am sorry, my Queen, but the King insists on this style. He would be displeased if you wore something more modest,” she said.
• I sighed and sat back down, glaring at my reflection.
• “I apologize if you are uncomfortable,” she added quietly. “I wish I could help.”
• “It is not your fault, Sage. You did your job perfectly,” I said just as a knock sounded at the door.
• I gestured for her to open it.
• A woman entered, older than the others, her presence commanding. Sage bowed slightly. I almost did the same before remembering my position.
• The woman surveyed the room with clear disgust. I knew instantly that she despised me.
• Competition had begun the moment I arrived.
• Her eyes swept over me slowly, critically, as though assessing a defect. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain calm.
• Her gaze shifted to Sage, who still stood bowed.
• “What are you still doing here?” she snapped.
• Sage looked at me for permission.
• “You may go, Sage. Thank you,” I said.
• The woman scoffed.
• “Trying to act sweet so everyone will like you?” she mocked.
• I crossed my arms, already tired of her scrutiny.
• “You are not even worthy of competing with me,” she added.
• I scoffed internally. I had never asked to compete.
• “I am Zinnia,” she continued. “The King’s first wife. His favorite. Stay in your place, and do not attempt to win his attention.”
• She turned to leave, then paused.
• “And the King despises red-haired women. Remember that.”
• She slammed the door behind her.
• I collapsed onto the massive bed, memories of my parents and friends flooding my mind. I was completely alone.
• Everything had been taken from me so quickly. My parents were gone, murdered by the same man who now claimed me.
• Even if they had wronged me, they did not deserve such a fate.
• If the King truly hated red-haired women, why marry me at all? Was this another form of punishment?
• I prayed Seren and Rosamund were safe. Their escape had been reckless, but they were strong.
• I looked around the room once more. It was filled with beauty and wealth, yet it felt like a prison.
• I was here to marry King Archer, the ruthless ladies’ man.
• And no matter how they dressed it up, I knew the truth.
• I was not a Queen.
• I was a possession.
• @pop precious