Chapter 1

It was a day like any other.

The whip makes sharp noises every time it meets bare flesh. The victim's screams sound through the room, but they don't make her flinch as they used to, which makes her somewhat proud. Alicia has her gaze averted to the ground to give the woman some dignity in her last moments.

She was young, only a few years older than her and had quite a pretty face. If she wasn't so stupid and stubborn, she could have been one of Prince Victor's many women. Unfortunately, she offended him, and in a blink of an eye, his whip struck at her pretty face.

It was a day like any other.

Every day, one to three girls would mess up and draw their last breath. The palace is a terrifying place, she realized that when she was just six. It became a part of her routine to drag the bodies away and burn them. Alicia doesn't have time to bury them and give them a proper funeral, even if she wanted to.

After all, she was just a slave like them and had her chores to do.

"Look at her," he mutters, "isn't she just pathetic?"

His voice was as quiet as a whisper, but she heard every word. She lifted her head up, and the sight made her blood run cold like that day.

His hair is free, and the feral look on his face reminds her of the men who hide in the alleys at night, waiting for a pretty little thing to walk by. Gone is the gentle prince, in his place is now just a wild animal who calls for blood.

He stands in front of the almost dead girl, his weapon still in his hand. By his choice of the whip, Alicia knew that the girl has angered him very much. He took his favorite, the one with the blades at the end. Her exposed back was beyond repair, blood oozing out of the wounds quicker than light itself.

If she is going to survive this, she is going to live with the scars for the rest of her life. In a world where appearance is everything for a woman, it'd be better for her just to die.

"What do you want?" he demanded, shifting his full attention onto Alicia.

The fourteen-year-old tries not to buckle under his gaze and gives a deep curtsy, averting her eyes to the ground again.

"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," she greeted, her voice monotone and face void of any emotion, "I'm your new personal servant."

She hears him snort and heavy footsteps coming nearer. His expensive white shoes are now in her sight, and Alicia takes in a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"The girl is not even dead, and yet there is a replacement for her?" she heard him ask, while he steps closer. The young girl holds her breath as his gloved hand moves under her chin, making her look up.

"Well, at least you're pretty," he said more to himself.

As he steps back, Alicia allows herself to breathe again. She observes him as he moves to his dressing table, stepping over the girl, and descends himself onto the expensive furniture.

"Won't you do my hair?"

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