Daphne stood by the window, surveying the organized chaos of the castle preparing for the debutante ball. Servants scurried like ants, carrying silk drapes, polishing silverware, and arranging elaborate floral arrangements that would have impressed even her father's exacting standards.
Blaize, her semi-official maid, finished tidying the room with the precision of a military officer. "Your Highness, do you need anything else?"
Daphne turned, her eyes meeting Blaize's. She paused for a moment, her mind seemingly lost in thought. "Ah," she finally said, a touch of confusion in her voice. "Can you call Jazl for me?"
Blaize's face froze, for a split second, her perfectly composed maid's expression cracked, revealing a mix of shock, jealousy, and what could only be described as existential betrayal. "I'm sorry, Your highness, did you say... Jazl?"
Daphne blinked, a flicker of realization crossing her face. "Oh. I mean, Jaslin," she quickly corrected.
But the damage was done. Blaize's face transformed into a comical picture of disbelief.
"It's... it's just a nickname," Daphne stammered, feeling inexplicably nervous for some reason – a rare emotion for her, yet Blaize managed to bring it out at times, particularly upon the mention of Jaslin.
Daphne was trying to make sure Blaize didn't suspect. But that certain someone's inner monologue was going in an entirely different direction: 'A nickname? For THAT idiot? Her highness, who barely shows emotion, has a NICKNAME for her?!'
As if on cue, Jaslin burst into the room, her perpetually giddy expression lighting up the space. "Hey, I..." She trailed off, noticing Blaize's back, then quickly grabbed her shoulder. "Oh, hey hon!"
Blaize's face transformed from dazed confusion to pure irritation in precisely 0.3 seconds. She'd rather be cleaning the castle's most disgusting dungeon than interact with Jaslin.
"Jas..." Daphne began, hesitant.
"Hm?" She responded, her casual tone making Blaize's eye twitch.
Blaize took a deep breath, mustering a semblance of composure. "I shall take my leave then, Your Highness." She knew Daphne preferred having private conversations with Jaslin, and she wouldn't stay to become a witness to this bizarre display of friendship.
"See you, Blaizy," Jaslin chirped, giving Blaize a knowing wink, her obliviousness almost a weapon in itself.
Blaize, with a disgusted grunt, finally escaped the room. The door closed with a sound resembling a restrained scream of frustration.
Daphne tilted her head slightly as she asked, "Why does she always seem annoyed whenever you're there?"
Jaslin plopped down on a nearby chair, her giddiness undiminished. "Who knows?" She shrugged. "Though I find her quite charming," she mumbled, casually reaching for a nearby pastry.
"You're eating my cake," Daphne observed, her tone neither accusatory nor particularly concerned.
"Your cake?" Jaslin mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate. "Technically, it's the castle's cake."
"Technically, everything in this castle is mine," Daphne replied, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.
Jaslin grinned, her sky blue hair catching the light from the window as she leaned back in the chair. "Then, technically it belongs to me as well... Sis." She winked, a playful glint in her black eyes.
Daphne couldn't help but return the grin, a rare smile gracing her lips. After all, she was right. Or rather, he was.
Jaslin, or Jazl as she sometimes preferred to be called, was Alastor's secret, unofficial child. A fact known only to a select few, including Daphne, Rowan, and, of course, Jaslin's mother, the Queen of the Fae. Alastor, in his flamboyant, unpredictable way, had once managed to capture the heart of a fairy, not just any fairy but the Queen herself.
Fairies, as everyone knew, were capable of incredible shape-shifting, their forms as fluid as the wind. Jaslin's mother, unable to raise her child herself due to her demanding royal duties, had entrusted Jaslin to Alastor with a single condition: no one was to know the child's true parentage.
Alastor, in a surprising display of responsibility, had kept his word, making Jaslin Daphne's personal maid, shielding her from the prying eyes of the court and nobles. It was an arrangement that suited everyone involved, except perhaps Blaize, Daphne's semi-official maid, who seemed forever annoyed by Jaslin's sunny disposition.
"It's just the two of us here, Jazl," Daphne said, her voice, a whisper, yet carrying a weight of concern.
Jaslin understood the implication. Staying in one form for too long wasn't healthy for a fairy. She took a deep breath and shifted to her male form, Jazl. He had the same sky blue hair and black eyes as his female version. And both his forms were strikingly attractive, as he took after his parents. He had originally inherited his father's midnight blue eyes, but to conceal his identity, he had subtly altered them to black. It was a trick his mother had taught him, an act of subtle magic that allowed him to move through the world without raising suspicion.
"So, why'd you call me?" Jazl asked, his voice taking on a deeper, more masculine tone.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "You heard?"
"I have sharp ears, Sis," he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Daphne tilted her head, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "You're quite the actor then."
Jazl chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. "Don't I know it."
He paused, his demeanor shifting, a thoughtful expression replacing his usual carefree charm. "So, you got a plan?"
Daphne, after a moment of silence, met his gaze with a contemplative look. "Yes..." she said, her voice low and deliberate. "I need you to get me something... two things, actually."