I woke up after hours of relentless sleep, feeling disoriented and weak. The soft, golden rays of the setting sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across my room. The familiar comfort of my plush bedding and the faint scent of lavender from the pillows couldn't fully chase away the weight of exhaustion still clinging to me. I blinked a few times, trying to gather my thoughts. The events of the previous night lingered in the back of my mind like a shadow I couldn't quite shake.
A soft knock on the door brought me back to the present. Before I could answer, Lilian, my most trusted maid, entered with her usual quiet grace. Lilian had been with me for years, and over time, she had become more than just a maid—she was a friend, a confidante, and sometimes even a voice of reason when I needed one.
"Good evening, my princess," she greeted with a warm smile, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and a delicate glass. "You've been sleeping for a while."
I smiled faintly at her, still feeling the haze of sleep clouding my thoughts. "It was much needed," I murmured, sitting up and stretching my arms. "Has dinner been served yet?"
"Yes, my princess," Lilian replied, setting the tray on the bedside table. "But there's still time. I came to help you get ready."
I nodded, grateful for her thoughtfulness. Lilian was truly remarkable—her kindness and dedication often went unnoticed in the bustling palace, but I appreciated her deeply. She had been married for five years yet had no children, something she often called a "blessing in disguise." She would laugh softly as she said it, explaining how it allowed her to dedicate herself entirely to serving me and the royal family. Despite the challenges she faced in her own life, she was always a source of warmth and positivity.
"Alright, let's get me ready," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and letting her take charge.
Lilian moved with practised ease, guiding me to the vanity table. As she worked, her hands deftly braided my hair into an intricate design that cascaded down my back like a flowing waterfall. Each strand was perfectly woven, a testament to her skill and attention to detail. She added small jewelled pins that sparkled faintly in the evening light, enhancing the elegance of the style. Then she applied a touch of makeup, her light strokes highlighting my features without overwhelming them.
"You look stunning," Lilian said softly, stepping back to admire her work.
I glanced at my reflection, feeling more alive and composed than I had in hours. "Thank you, Lilian," I said sincerely. "You always know how to make me feel like myself again."
She smiled warmly, giving a slight bow before leaving the room to attend to her other duties. Feeling more awake and lively, I stood, smoothing down my dress and preparing myself for dinner. The soft wiggle of my gown accompanied me as I walked through the grand, marble-floored hallway. The palace was as magnificent as ever, its towering ceilings adorned with golden chandeliers and intricate carvings that told stories of generations past. Yet tonight, it felt a little colder, a little emptier, perhaps because of everything weighing on my mind.
As I neared the dining hall, I realized how long it had been since I'd had a real conversation with my parents, especially my mother. Lately, she had been busy with endless social engagements—parties, charity galas, and political gatherings that seemed to consume her every moment. It left little time for the two of us to talk the way we used to.
My mother and I had always been close, more like sisters than mother and daughter. She is my friend, the person I could turn to with anything, no matter how trivial or monumental. She understood me in a way no one else did, and her advice had always been my guiding light. But these days, our connection felt strained by the demands of royal life, and I missed her terribly. The palace was grand, filled with people at every turn, yet without her presence, it often felt unbearably lonely.
As I approached the dining room, a flutter of excitement stirred in my stomach. Dinner wasn't just a meal; it was one of the rare moments when we all came together as a family. I told my mother everything—my fears, my dreams, my aspirations. She had a way of cheering me up that no one else could replicate. Her smile alone lit up my world, making even the darkest days feel brighter. Tonight, after so many rushed conversations and fleeting glances, I looked forward to reconnecting with her, even if only for a while.
The walk to the dining room felt longer than usual, anticipation making every step deliberate. After what felt like two minutes, I finally reached the grand double doors, their polished surface gleaming under the golden glow of the chandeliers. I paused briefly, taking a deep breath, before pushing them open to find everyone already seated at the long mahogany table.
It was clear they had been waiting for me. The moment I entered, my parents beamed, their joy filling the room.
Here comes my beautiful daughter, princess of the Swazi Kingdom!" they chorused in unison, their voices warm and filled with pride.
A soft blush crept up my cheeks as I smiled shyly. My family had a way of making me feel special, even when I didn't think I deserved it.
At the far end of the table sat my younger brother, Daniel, his arms crossed and an all-too-familiar smug grin plastered on his face. He was already eyeing me with playful mischief, and I knew I was about to be drawn into one of our signature sibling debates.
"Ah, someone is jealous," I teased, raising an eyebrow at him as I took my seat.
He scoffed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "Jealous? Me? Never! I think you've forgotten that Mum loves me more," he said with a mock-serious expression, the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter.
I rolled my eyes, feigning offence. "That's a lie, Daniel! Mum and Dad love me more!"
Our playful back-and-forth was inevitable, a cherished ritual that always livened up the evening.
"Not a chance," he countered with mock indignation. "Do you even know how many times Mum brags about me at her parties? I'm the golden child."
I gasped, clutching my chest in faux despair. "Golden child? Please! If anyone's favourite, it's me. I mean, just look at me," I said, flipping my hair for emphasis.
Our banter continued, the two of us exchanging exaggerated accusations and playful jabs, filling the room with laughter. The tension I'd been carrying from the day slowly began to melt away, replaced by the warmth of family.
Finally, my mother intervened, shaking her head with a soft laugh. "Alright, you two, that's enough. Your father and I love you both equally and immensely. There's no competition, so let's leave it at that."
"Exactly," my father muttered, his deep voice tinged with amusement as he reached for the serving spoon. "Now let's eat before the food gets cold."
With that, the bickering subsided, and we all began serving ourselves from the lavish spread before us. The tantalizing aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and spiced vegetables filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.
As the meal began, the sound of clinking cutlery and light chatter replaced the earlier banter. It felt good to be here, surrounded by the people I loved most, sharing not just food but a sense of togetherness that no palace walls could ever replace.
Suddenly, the lighthearted atmosphere shifted drastically. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the grand hall, and moments later, the heavy doors of the dining room burst open. A commander stormed in, his chest heaving as though he had sprinted all the way. His face was pale, his eyes wide with urgency and fear.