Elizabeth sat alone in the lush garden of the palace of Amoria, her gaze lost among the roses and ivy-covered trellises that surrounded her. The evening air was soft, scented with the blooms of spring, and the palace walls loomed high, casting long shadows across the garden paths. In this quiet moment, Elizabeth tried to find comfort in the beauty around her, but tonight, even the flowers seemed to mock her misery.
Her hand traced the delicate chain around her neck, coming to rest on a small pendant—a relic of her mother, the last piece she had left of the woman who had given her both life and hope. She remembered her mother's voice, faint but filled with love, from her final days. "Promise me, Elizabeth. Promise me you'll find happiness and live with someone who truly loves you. Don't let this world steal your joy."
Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling the familiar pang of sorrow. She had promised. She had sworn to live a life of happiness, to be loved and to love in return. But in the years that followed, happiness had become a distant memory, a dream she could no longer reach. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she whispered, "I'm sorry, Mother… I've tried so hard, but…"
Her voice broke as her thoughts turned to her life in the Osborne family. Though she bore their blood, she was never truly one of them. She was the illegitimate daughter, an embarrassment they barely tolerated, a reminder of a past they'd rather forget. To them, Elizabeth was little more than a servant, someone to be controlled and silenced.
Her older sister, Helena, took pleasure in reminding her of her place. Beautiful, dignified, and admired by everyone, Helena had the life Elizabeth could only dream of—and she wielded that superiority with cruelty. Her brothers, William and Robert, followed suit, taunting her with words as sharp as any blade, ensuring she never forgot her lowly position within the family.
Elizabeth sniffed, brushing away her tears as she tried to steel herself. Why am I so miserable? Why can't I just… be happy? Her gaze drifted upward to the stars, glittering in the darkening sky. She knew it was foolish, but part of her hoped her mother could hear her, that somehow, she wasn't truly alone.
Footsteps sounded on the stone path behind her. She turned to see one of the palace maids approaching, a familiar look of disdain flickering across her face. It was Anne, who had never hidden her scorn for Elizabeth. Elizabeth quickly straightened, willing her voice to remain calm.
"Miss Elizabeth," Anne said, her tone laced with mock respect. "I've brought your tea." She held out a silver teapot and delicate porcelain cup, but her eyes glinted with something far from servitude.
Elizabeth nodded quietly, folding her hands in her lap as she waited. But as Anne stepped closer, her expression twisted with a sneer. Without warning, she tilted the teapot, and a stream of hot tea poured down onto Elizabeth's head, soaking her hair, dress, and shoulders. Elizabeth gasped, feeling the scalding liquid sting her skin as it trickled down her face and neck.
Anne burst into laughter, her voice sharp and cold against the stillness of the garden. "Oh dear, I'm so clumsy," she sneered, feigning concern as she watched Elizabeth struggle to brush the tea from her face. "Did I ruin your lovely dress? My apologies, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth's cheeks burned with humiliation, and she felt fresh tears pricking her eyes. She wanted to stand, to demand respect, to fight back against the indignity. But she knew any attempt would be futile. She was powerless here, bound by her status, her past, her very existence.
Anne's mocking smile faded slightly as she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a vicious whisper. "You really are pathetic, you know that? Sitting here, pretending you're someone important. Hoping that his majesty might glance your way?" She laughed, the sound filled with venom. "Do you honestly believe someone like him would ever look at someone like you? His majesty has no time for pathetic little servants."
Elizabeth's heart sank, and her fingers tightened around the pendant at her neck. She had heard this mockery before, but hearing Anne's words struck a new blow. The maid's words twisted painfully inside her chest, and though she tried to hold her composure, she couldn't stop the tears that slipped down her face.
Anne's smile grew colder. "I'd think by now, you'd have accepted your place. You're a burden here, nothing more. His majesty sees you as just another maid, and so does everyone else." With a final sneer, Anne turned and walked away, leaving Elizabeth sitting in a pool of her own despair.
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, feeling her shame like a weight upon her shoulders. Her thoughts drifted back to her mother's promise, and the vision of a future filled with love and happiness seemed more distant than ever.
As the night closed in around her, she remained seated in the shadowed garden, her heart aching, and her mind filled with silent pleas. She had promised her mother, but in a world that seemed determined to crush her spirit, that promise felt as fragile as the flowers that bloomed around her—beautiful, but destined to fade.