Almost at the same time, two servants hurried through the castle corridors—one from the stables, the other from the art gallery. They were heading in the same direction: Princess Niaya's chambers.
Sweat clung to their brows, their hearts pounding as though trying to escape their ribs. Something was terribly wrong.
When they arrived, they froze.
Maids were already scattered across the hall, kneeling, trembling, pleading for mercy. Black smoke still leaked from Niaya's room, thick enough to stain the air. The servants exchanged a quick, uneasy glance before stepping forward.
Both of them called out at once.
"Princess Niaya."
Her head turned slowly from the burning doorway. The stillness in her expression was worse than anger—it was something colder.
"What do you mud rats want?" she asked quietly.
The sound alone made their skin crawl.
The female servant stepped forward first, forcing the words out through her fear.
