Chapter Two
The castle loomed ahead, its silhouette rising from the mist like something out of a legend. As the carriage wound up the mountain path, Aliya leaned out the window, her heart fluttering with anticipation. The fortress crowned the mountain with effortless grace, its towers glinting in the fading light, as though every stone had been meticulously polished by hand.
It was breathtaking, almost unreal—but Aliya couldn't forget why she was here. She wasn't here to become a princess or admire the beauty of the castle. She was here for suffering, but she was prepared for it.
The carriage came to a halt in front of the massive, towering doors of the castle—doors that hid countless secrets. As a guard helped her out, two cheerful maids were already waiting by the door.
"Good evening, my lady," they said in unison, smiling warmly.
She returned their smile, trying to mask the unease in her chest. "Good evening."
"We've been assigned to prepare you for tonight, my lady. Please, follow us," one of the maids said.
"Lead the way," Aliya replied, her voice calm but betraying a hint of tension.
As the maids guided her down long hallways lined with portraits of royal ancestors and historical scenes, she felt a growing curiosity. One painting, in particular, caught her attention—a dark, ominous image of a creature with horns, like something from a nightmare. Was this kingdom really built by the devil himself? The question lingered in her mind as they moved deeper into the castle.
King Alaric Bloodwyn III, the current ruler, was said to be the descendant of King Titus Bloodwyn I—the first monarch to build this castle and establish the kingdom. At least, that was the story she had been taught. But Aliya sensed there was far more to Morvathar's history than anyone was willing to share.
The maids stopped in front of a large door and pushed it open.
"This will be your room, my lady," one of them said.
Aliya stepped inside. The room was vast—perhaps even larger than the family cottage back home. The walls were adorned with fine tapestries, and a large bed sat at the center, draped in luxurious linens. "Is this going to be mine?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"Yes, my lady, if you are chosen by one of the King's sons," one of the maids replied.
The weight of her words sank in. Aliya swallowed hard as her gaze fell on the stunning white gown spread across the bed. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen.
The maids set to work, combing her long hair and expertly twisting it into a tight bun. They explained it would stay that way until one of the princes decided otherwise. Aliya didn't mind the sensation of her hair against her neck, but here, it was all about rules. She'd have to follow them, whether she liked it or not.
"You can call me Nora, and this is Diane," one of the maids introduced herself, the other nodding. "If you are chosen, we will serve you, my lady."
Aliya smiled weakly. "Thank you." They seemed kind enough, but she couldn't shake the thought of what awaited her here. She prayed she wouldn't be chosen—but if she was, at least Nora and Diane would be with her.
After finishing her makeup, the maids helped her into the beautiful gown. When Aliya glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. The gown, the makeup—it made her feel beautiful, a sensation that both comforted and unsettled her.
The maids led her to another room, this one filled with about twenty young maidens, all dressed in their finest. They were instructed to wait until the ceremony began. The room buzzed with nervous energy—some girls seemed thrilled at the prospect of being chosen, while others, like Aliya, dreaded the day ahead. How naïve they were, thinking this was some fairy tale.
"I know what you're thinking," a voice whispered from behind. Aliya turned to find a girl with a wry smile. "Trust me, those smiles won't last a month."
"I'm Sophia," she said, extending a hand.
Aliya shook it. "I'm Aliya." They exchanged introductions, and it didn't take long for her to realize that Sophia shared her views. They talked more, and in this strange, foreign place, it was comforting to find someone who understood.
A guard entered the room. "Ladies, it's time. Please follow me to the ballroom."
The group moved silently, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. Standing behind the large, ornate doors of the ballroom, Aliya made a decision. She would leave her fierce, hopeful self behind and embrace the role of a proper maiden if she wanted to survive this place. She hoped her plan would work.
"Presenting the maidens of this season," a voice announced, and the doors swung open.
The maidens stepped forward, heads held high, as they had been trained to do. Gracefully, they came to a halt and curtsied before the royal family. She stole a glance at Prince Arthur, who sat on the right side of his mother, Queen Celia. For someone who had nearly died just the day before, he looked remarkably well.
King Alaric's sons, six in total, stood behind their father. Each prince was to choose a paramour, starting with the eldest—Prince Arthur.
As Arthur rose from his seat, the room seemed to shift. His presence commanded attention, even from the older men in the room. She had seen him up close just yesterday, but today, he was different—alive, powerful, and striking.
He walked slowly around the maidens, his gaze sharp, assessing each one of them carefully. When he stopped in front of Aliya, she felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine. His blue eyes—there was something in them, something she couldn't quite understand, but it almost seemed… helpless.
Did he know she had helped him yesterday? He had woken up, likely seen her lying on the floor, and then left without saying a word.
Prince Arthur stood still in front of her, his gaze unwavering. Then, with a single motion, he raised his hand.
"I've made my choice," he said, his voice commanding and final. "I'll take her."