CHAPTER 5 Aug 13, 2025 The palace rose from the horizon like a lie too beautiful to be true. Pale marble towers pierced the sky, their tips brushed with gold so bright it almost hurt to look at. The sun hit the domes and windows just right, making the entire structure shimmer like it had been carved out of the moon itself. "Oh my," Clarissa breathed, pressing her face to the carriage window. "It's even more magnificent than I imagined." She stepped gracefully from the main carriage in a swirl of silk and perfume, greeting the palace stewards like she'd been born on those steps. "Miss Clarissa Alder," she announced with a perfect curtsy. "Such an honor to be here." "The honor is ours, miss," the head steward replied with a warm bow. "Right this way to the main entrance." I, meanwhile, was escorted out of a supply wagon. The driver avoided my eyes as he helped me down. "You'll want the service entrance," he muttered. "Around back." I adjusted my shawl and stepped onto the stones, the soles of my too-large boots scraping awkwardly. Heads turned-not in awe, but in quiet judgment. "Is that one of the girls?" a servant whispered behind her hand. "Hardly looks it," another replied with a snicker. One noble girl leaned toward her companion. "Poor thing. Someone should tell her this isn't a charity event." They both laughed without looking away from me. I kept my chin high. Inside, the palace overwhelmed every sense. Velvet draped the halls. Chandeliers taller than trees sparkled above us. Mirrors lined every corner, reflecting us back in cruel detail. A woman in deep burgundy silk commanded the entrance hall. "I am Lady Isolde, your royal matron. Welcome to the Palace. Right now you'll be sorted by status and potential influence. Favor will determine lodging." Clarissa stepped forward without hesitation. "Clarissa Alder of Thornshire Manor. My family holds considerable estates in the northern provinces." "Ah, yes. Lord Alder's daughter." Lady Isolde's tone warmed instantly. "South Tower, naturally. The blue suite on the third floor." "How lovely," Clarissa beamed as a gold-liveried footman appeared. "I do so prefer high places." She was escorted through golden doors and vanished from sight. When my turn came, Lady Isolde's eyes flicked over me with barely concealed boredom. "Name?" "Marianne Alder," I said softly. Her pen paused over the parchment. "Alder? Related to the young lady who just-" "My sister." Lady Isolde's gaze sharpened, taking in my patched dress and scuffed boots. "How... interesting. West Wing. Fourth floor." A plain-dressed maid appeared at my elbow. "This way." I was taken to the West Wing, where the walls were older and the stone sweated cold. The maid who showed me to my quarters was brisk and unfriendly. "Meals at dawn, noon, and dusk," she recited, tossing a thin blanket on the narrow cot. "Don't be late. Don't touch anything valuable." "How will I know what's valuable?" I asked. She looked me up and down with disdain. "Everything you can't afford to replace." *** There were twenty-four of us, arranged by status like silverware at a royal banquet. I was three seats from the end. Lady Catherine's voice rose from the top table. "Did anyone get a proper look at the Prince during arrivals?" Clarissa didn't miss a beat. "Tall. Composed. And clearly someone who recognizes breeding." She cut into her pheasant like she was carving her future. A few girls laughed. One of them glanced in my direction. I kept my gaze on my plate. Clarissa smiled like someone who already thought she'd won. "I doubt his eyes even made it past the second row." Sarah, beside me, snorted softly. "God, she's proud of being ornamental." I liked Sarah. Her father ran the largest textile mill in the northern provinces. Not nobility, but important enough to earn her a seat at the table. Her dress was simple but tailored well, and she wore her hair in a no-nonsense braid like she didn't have time for vanity. Lady Isolde stood, her voice sharp. "No one is to leave their quarters after dusk. Guards are posted in every hall. Certain wings are off-limits, especially the East Wing." "For our safety," Sarah murmured. "Or theirs." "What's in the East Wing?" I asked. She smiled. "Exactly." I stared at the center table, though Prince Alexander wasn't seated there. I'd never seen him in person. Just the profile etched into every coin: sharp jawline, high cheekbones, lips set in that almost-smile that gave nothing away. A face designed to be admired, not understood. The official portraits were worse-too polished, too posed. But the coin had something different. A tension in the mouth, the weight in the brow. Like he didn't trust easily. Like he'd seen more than anyone dared ask about. He was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful-sleek, cold, dangerous. And still... I wondered. What was he really like? I would meet him soon. The thought clung to me through dinner, through the long walk back to our assigned rooms, through the endless brushing of my hair by a palace maid who barely spoke. What would he think of me? He'd meet girls with names carved into statues, families older than the kingdom itself. Girls who knew how to walk into a room and command attention. Girls who were born polished. And then there was me. No titles. No jewels. No practiced laugh. Just a borrowed gown and a stomach full of nerves. Would he see that? Would he look at me and know that I was only here because I wanted to get away?