Workers didn't stare at royalty.

It was a principle that had been drilled into my head time and time again. Every time an affluent family passed through Metsuva — a rare and astonishing occurrence — Lyra would tug on my ear, turning me away from the brilliance of the nobles as if it could blind me. Laying eyes upon them, she would remind me punctually, is like laying your hands on them. Do you like hands being laid on you?

The parallelism usually fell through and I ended up taking a peek, anyway. Yet those were different times; now, in the throne room of Keiha palace, I was staring at a noble with a brooch pinned on his shirt — and he was staring right back at me.

Unease crawled in my stomach, laced with a taste of horror. Despite the shortage of grace in my system I attempted a quick bow, which looked more like a cramp than anything else. The man didn't bat a lash.

He was wearing that frown again, that puzzled grimace that didn't emit much anger at all. There was something forlorn about his narrowed eyes, a nostalgia that a man worthy of the imperial brooch couldn't have much reasoning for. The longer I regarded him, the more colors I found swirling in the irises of his eyes. Umber for sorrow, copper for days long gone, and mahogany, for hurt that his eyes could carry but his mouth could not speak.

I knew that emotion. I had noticed in the eyes of countless workers in Metsuva, even in my own reflection on the soapy waters of the factory. It was raw heartbreak.

Without waiting to think it through, I turned on my heel grabbed the knob once more. I needn't see more of the grief that raged within my own heart; I was familiar enough with it already.

"I know your plan."

I begged my hands to keep pushing. The muscles of my arm twitched, conflicting messages bombarding them from all angles. At last, I lost the battle. My limbs froze, trapped by the curiosity poking at my mind. "What plan?" I asked, and a frightful waver curled my tone. He can't know. My gaze met his as I turned my head to face him.

The boy's lips tightened for a brief second, frigid and even hesitant as he spoke. "Do not try to feign ignorance, Lady Yumi," he shot, and his words contained a certainty his mournful eyes didn't. "Nobody travelling with a Khanian diplomat can hide their insincerity well enough."

I rubbed my hands against my forearms, feeling a torturous confusion creep into my mind. What were the chances he somehow knew of Erhan's scheme? I doubted he would still stand before me with such reluctance if he did. His jade pin could order the death of a whole fleet in seconds; a peasant assisting an enchanter usually made no exception.

He swallowed down what seemed to be hesitance. "I know what he is here for. And whatever your involvement is, let him know he will not be having it."

At this moment, I knew we were not referring to the same deceit. My participation was more than integral in Erhan's mission. Swallowing down any more remarks, I took a deep breath and glanced at him. "Please help me open this door."

When his disbelieving eyes narrowed, I thought he would leave me there forever as I attempted to decode the bizarre mechanisms of Sehira. Yet his nobility took over, at last, and he reached out pull the door open. Shame warmed my face.

"You are not the cause of trouble, Lady Yumi," he said, a little more softly than he yelled at me before. "You are just the means."

The soft click of the door's closure behind me left me in deafening silence.

Compared to the incessant buzz of the throne room, the wide corridor laying behind it was eerily still. I could hear my own uneven breath as I took slow steps into the hallway. Even such an insignificant room was lavishly adorned with glass and gold, and paintings of stuck-up nobles hung from the walls.

Yet even through the bitterness of my worry, I turned my head around to stare at the view outside the clear window. A seemingly unending lake stretched across the palace's perimeter, with shy lotus buds sprouting throughout its surface. The bottom was snuggly shielded by their vibrant leaves, reflecting a clear sky and the sun's glory. I dragged my feet closer to the landscape. Any pools in Metsuva were manmade and mostly consisted of blood and some poor fellow's tears.

Just the means. Wasn't that what I always was? A means to profit, a means to work, and now a means to death. I ran my fingers through my greasy hair with a quivering sigh.

If I needed to be the means to a better future, to a better present for my family, I would consider the strange man's bitter remark a compliment.

❧

"Is that a scar or dirt, my lady?"

"This, erm... Just scrub it."

My lengthy, accidental tour of the palace had been cut short not long after by the young servant rubbing my back ferociously. With a hesitant grimace she had tried to conceal, the girl had dragged me to a room I hadn't managed to identify yet due to her desperately quick step.

Whichever room the bath I was sprawled across belonged to, however, had impressed me. A large wooden bucket lay in the center of the room, flanked by trays full of sponges, blossoms and oils in crystal bottles. The floor might have been drenched in soap water, yet the delicate shine of the evening sun against the marble drew a gawk from me. Quite inconveniently, considering the servant kept splashing water on my face.

For the hundredth time that hour I sputtered out the soap that had maliciously sneaked into my mouth. "Okay," the girl inhaled, her breath audibly whistling. "I will — let you soak now."

Hesitantly, I sank deeper into the tub. The lukewarm water glided across my skin and caressed every neglected inch of my skin. My nose could detect a faint odor; fresh lilies plucked from the garden, sweet alyssum petals carried by the wind, incense burning in the bedchamber next door.

The door burst open as a young girl stomped in with a bundle of towels in her hands. She wore a dull sky-blue dress with the usual swirling patterns over sheer fabric I had noticed in the Ashaban court. The stitched details on her own clothes were silver. "Leave," she called. "They've sent me here now."

With a surge of relief washing over her frown, the servant quickly bowed and nearly sprinted out of the bath. I didn't think I imagined the giggles of successful liberation as the bedchamber's door slammed shut.

I glanced at her questioningly. Her angular navy eyes were narrowed, striking against the edge of her short black hair. "Are you a servant?" I blurted out.

The girl snorted. "It's 'handmaiden' for newcomers and 'Rin' for everyone else."

With a grimace, I amended my previous thought.

Groaning, Rin shoved the soft towels into a bare shelf and walked towards the tub. She leaned over, glancing at the tray parked next to me. "Yeah," she muttered. "This isn't enough. You think you can take two baths in a day?"

I turned around, sending water sloshing against the tub's walls. Rin stumbled away from the drops of dirty water shot towards her. "Why is everyone in this court so discourteous?" I asked, crossing my arms across my bare chest. There wasn't much to hide; Metsuva wasn't known for keeping its citizens well-fed, after all. But faced with the handmaiden's scowl, my body shrunk inside the water.

"You tell me," she groused, shoving an apron taken from the tray around her waist. "But if you plan on keeping your dignity here, don't bother unpacking."

The unease swirling in my stomach gradually retreated as Rin started brushing my hair. The bristles slid across my oil-drenched locks, unlocking every tangle in their wake. I sighed with contentment as a comfortable stream of warmth flushed across my fouled body. The smell of fresh flowers brushed any worry from my mind, no matter how hard the handmaiden's grunts of disgust tried to solidify it.

It had been a long time since my mind and body were allowed to relax simultaneously. The factory battered down my muscles every day, cursing me with blisters and cramps and even sickness in the winter. Yet when I finally crashed into my stiff mattress, thoughts haunted my mind for the rest of the night, vicious nightmares that roused me with sweat covering my body.

Now another nightmare awaited. I hurried to shut down my thoughts, desperate to preserve this fragile bliss I had created.

"What did Zhen want with you?" Rin asked abruptly, coming to the rescue of my sanity.

My brows tightened. "Who?"

"You know, tall guy, dark hair, dreamily stuck-up..."

I snapped my head around, trying not to splash the water on Rin this time. "The guy with the imperial brooch?" I asked, and suspicion lurked in my gut.

Rin barked a laugh. "The guy with what used to be the imperial brooch ages ago."

I eased back into the tub, digging my nails into my palms. "He... just wanted to help."

With a hum, Rin plugged a twig from my hair. "By snapping at you?"

"Why do you listen in on private conversations?"

"Nothing is private in here. Better get used to it."

I threw a glance behind my shoulder. Rin stood and grabbed a towel from the bundle she had brought, an apathetic deadpan forming her features. "How are you still a servant?" I murmured with vindictive rudeness.

A bitter smile broke her indifference. "Handmaiden," she corrected.

After grumpily drying my hair and commenting on their flat appearance more times than I could count, the handmaiden brought a piece of fabric into the bath. As she unfolded it, I realized it was a dress. My heart fluttered with horror and wonder. The glimmering fabrics nobles wore always piqued my interest, yet I could never envision myself in them; the time had come, apparently, and Rin didn't look happy about it either.

I slowly rose from the bath and enveloped my body in the towel she dropped next to me. Its fibers caressed my skin with delicate softness, making me dread wearing the dress even more intensely. "Can't I wear my previous clothes?"

Rin cringed. "Those are off to the furnace."

Despite its condition, that flimsily-stitched uniform was the last remnant of my identity, the last sliver of dignity Erhan hadn't already shredded to dust. I was tempted to snap at Rin, to ask her why she didn't ask for permission first. Yet by the way she glared at me with risen brows and the silky fabric clutched in her hands, I knew it was pointless.

After patting my skin dry, I reluctantly stepped into the dress. No structure held the skirt stiff like in the empress's gown; the raven cloth flower over my waist with only a thin ribbon cinching the waist in place. From its tight collar to just under my breasts the fabric was chiffon, and golden thread formed elegant shapes from the start of my skirt all the way to my collarbones. The sleeves, covered with embroidery resembling stunning flowers, were loose, allowing me some comfort in the uncomfortably lavish dress.

Yet most of all, it glowed. I stared at the needlework on my chest in awe. It was as if the threads were infused with magic, bestowing me a brilliance that I never thought possible since that night at the tavern. It seemed so distant, so trivial. For a fleeting moment, the thought of never returning to who I used to be gave my heart a bouncing pace.

"Are you done staring at your cleavage?" Rin said flatly, grabbing the tray beside the tub. "Move along, I've got other pretentious nobles to attend to."

I stepped into my new bedchamber first, only to see Erhan lounged on my bed.

It was the second time I ever witnessed magic. An azure butterfly made of shining dust danced around his palm, sneaking through his fingers in complete ignorance of its impending doom. His face was relaxed, even slightly melancholy as he stared at his creation in apathy.

Marvel fluttered inside me, as if another shimmering butterfly had manifested in my stomach. It was the same magic that almost killed me, and the same magic that would kill many

after. Yet even with that knowledge I couldn't help but stare at the shining dust in amazement — an awe which proved short-lived as the tray's wheels squeaked behind me.

"Erhan," I yelped, rushing towards the bed.

The enchanter's gaze met mine, and the oblivious butterfly puffed into nothingness. His lips curved into a pleasant smile, as always, yet his eyes remained forlorn.

I cleared my throat. "You're in the wrong room," I declared.

He laughed, scooting to the edge of the bed and jumping to his feet. "It is always the correct room if you are a little daring, my friend." I scowled at his crudeness, and he traced a finger down his neck. "Are you going to let that show?" he asked.

Touching the scar on my throat, I pulled the collar of my dress a little higher. "Don't change the subject."

Rin rolled the tray into the chamber. Erhan's smug face was probably what hoisted her brow. "Shouldn't you off be kissing the emperor's behind or something?"

"Do not look so envious, darling."

Rin chuckled and quickly twisted the key already stuck into the door. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd like that."

When the door slammed shut, I pursed my lips and looked at the boy. He was examining a coal painting next to my bed, bustling with illustrations of serpents and lotuses. "How did you get in?" I inquired suspiciously.

"Through the window," he replied casually.

"Why did you get in?"

As he stepped away from the painting, he slid an arm across my shoulders and steered me towards the door. "Do you really want to spend what could be your last days brooding, Miyu?"

My chest writhed with despair. Any relaxation the bath had gifted me vanished, dissolved into the pool of all my sorrows. I shook off his grip, glaring at him through my nervous nausea. "What do you want me to do, dance in joy?"

"I was thinking more of planning, but if that is your thing consider me on board."

I stared. My head whirled with anticipation I didn't know I was capable of, combined with my regular dose of fear. "What do you mean?" I asked, breathless.

"I've found him." Erhan smiled, yet this time it wasn't hollow; a personal eagerness lay beneath, as morbid and raw as it could get. The speed with which my body contracted that eagerness sent a pang of terror across my heart.

The soul. My freedom. Another chance. Something deep within the alleys of my mind told me I couldn't have it all, in the end.

❧

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