Chapter 2

 The Palace is a dark place.

She understood that the moment she stepped in. The older servants tried to protect them, but it wasn't their fault that the Queen was in a bad mood. It all happened to fast, and nobody saw it coming.

Alicia steps around the broken woman, ignoring the puddle of blood, which starts to form beneath her. She slows her pace the nearer she came to the Prince but made it behind him. Alicia doesn't really want to test his patience, after all, she is not suicidal.

"Then I will do as his highness request," she stated. Her voice was a bit jittery now, but she still holds herself together. The girl doesn't allow herself to show emotion, especially not in the presence of The Royal Family.

With shaky hands, she picks the expensive brush up. It has exaggerated cravings on the sides, which doesn't surprise her. On the back, engraved in elegant letters, stands; Only the best for my dear Son.

It was no secret that His Highness, Prince Victor, spoiled from birth, was the Empress favorite child. Everybody knew that, but nobody spoke about it. Apart from said person, who rubs that fact in his brothers' faces every chance he gets.

Alicia starts brushing at the ends, working her way up from there. As she untangles and smoothens the hair, the girl makes sure to brush gently and not tug at his hair. A frown marks her face as she suspects a knot.

The-Girl-Who-Is-Not-Ready-To-Die dares to peek inside the mirror. Fortunately, he has his eyes closed and seems to be resting. Longer than necessary, she lets her eyes admire his features before she turns back to the hair.

She has no doubt that she is currently sweating. Maybe it was not a day like any other. After all, the Housekeeper announced to her twenty minutes or so ago, that she is now the personal maid for the Fourth Prince of Cloaria, Prince Victor. Apparently, Martha is very impressed with her skills and performance and promoted her because of that.

Alicia suppresses the want to laugh as she inspects his locks again, trying to find a solution. She knows that Martha can't stand her ever since the verdict years ago, which is very understandable. If she was Martha herself, she would also try to kill the girl who caused her dear sister's death.

When she thinks about it, she realized that they have actually more in common than not. But Alicia knows that she would've succeeded in killing the cause of a sibling's death.

The Palace is a dark place, it's every man for himself in here. But she is one of the few slave girls, who survived more than six years here. And it would be laughable if she didn't have a few tricks up in her sleeves.

Besides, she can't allow herself to die yet.

Alicia grabs the hair ahead of the knot, so he wouldn't feel the tugging on his scalp as she brushes the annoyance out. She lets her fingers run slowly through his blond hair, making sure that there are no knots.

She decides to let him wear his hair over his shoulders and put some braids, so it doesn't look to plain. She actually had no idea what to do after she untangled his hair as he was still resting, but it doesn't look bad, and hopefully, he is going to see it the same way.

"Not bad."

Alicia flinched lightly as he made himself known with his clear voice. She hears the sound of clothes rustling and immediately steps back to give him some space. The girl watches his back while he strides with elegance towards the door and wants to break her composure but quickly saves herself as not quite left the room.

He pauses in the doorway and turns his head towards her, eyes glistening with interest. Not a good sign.

"What is your name?" he demanded. His voice was as sharp and clear as ever.

"I'm called 052729, Sir," she replies with her pretense as the perfect servant still up. Once you enter the Palace, you're nobody anymore. You're going to be stripped from your name, your rights, your voice, your family, your past-anything that makes you-you.

"From now on," he announced, bringing her out of her thoughts, "your name is going to be...Lucy."

"Thank you, Sir."

Yes, definitely not a day like any other.

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