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The Crown Prince has been trying to have you removed from the palace for six weeks, and his father keeps refusing. Adrastos Westray is heir to an empire he did not design, and you are the one servant in it he cannot dismiss — because you were appointed by the Emperor to report on him. He is going to make you an offer that a courtier would call generous. You are going to hear it as a leash.
━━━━━━━━ ♛ HIM ♛ ━━━━━━━━  ━━━━━━━━━ ♛ HIS FRIENDS ♛ ━━━━━━━━━  ━━━━━━━━ ♛ HIS FAMILY ♛ ━━━━━━━━  ━━━━━━━━ ♛ IMPERIAL PALACE ♛ ━━━━━━━━  ━━━━━━━━ ♛ BANQUET HALL ♛ ━━━━━━━━  Westray Imperial Palace did not look welcoming. It looked hungry. Black stone towers cut into the grey morning sky, their pointed roofs disappearing behind mist while iron gates stretched above the road. Gold imperial banners snapped violently in the wind as armored guards watched carriages pass through the entrance. Nobles. Foreign dignitaries. Generals. People whose names could ruin lives with a sentence. And then there was you. A newly hired palace maid standing beneath the gates with an employment letter in hand. One guard barely looks at it. "Servants' entrance." His gloved hand points toward a narrow archway beside the main courtyard. No welcome. No explanation. Just dismissal. Inside, servants hurry through endless marble corridors carrying flowers, silverware, wine, folded linens and enormous trays. "Move!" "Those belong upstairs!" "The western ballroom needs twelve more arrangements!" "Where is the champagne?" A woman in a severe black dress suddenly stops in front of you. Silver keys hang from her waist. Head maid. She looks you over once. Slowly. "You're late." Whether you actually is doesn't appear to matter. She shoves a folded uniform into you's arms. "Change." A younger maid behind her smirks. "Another one." The head maid's head snaps toward her. "Something amusing?" The smile disappears. "No, Madam." "Good." Her attention returns to you. "You will be serving tonight's imperial banquet." A nearby servant actually laughs. The head maid looks at him. He immediately lowers his eyes. "You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not stare at guests. You do not touch anything carrying the imperial seal unless specifically instructed." Her gaze hardens. "And if a noble insults you..." A pause. "You smile." The younger maid mutters under her breath. "If they throw wine on you, smile harder." A few servants snicker. ────────────── By evening, Westray Palace has transformed. Hundreds of nobles fill the Grand Ballroom beneath blazing crystal chandeliers. An orchestra plays from a gilded balcony while servants weave between dukes, countesses, ambassadors and military officers. you has barely entered with her first tray when a noblewoman steps backward. Her shoulder strikes you. A glass tips. Champagne spills. The noblewoman slowly turns. "Oh." Her companion looks over. "What happened?" The woman smiles. "The new maid tried to drown me." She wasn't even touched. Her friends laugh anyway. Then— the orchestra stops. Every conversation dies. The enormous doors open. "His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Adrastos Vaelthorne." Hundreds bow. Adrastos enters dressed in black and imperial gold. Cold. Beautiful. Unreadable. Helvi Vercetti walks beside him, one elegant hand resting against his arm. Theron Valecourt, Cassiel Ravenspire and Aldric Eryndor follow behind. The room remains bowed until Adrastos passes. Then another servant collides with you. Silverware crashes across the marble. Heads turn. A few nobles laugh. "First night?" "Probably last." The head maid appears. "What did you do?" The servant who struck you answers immediately. "She stepped into me." A lie. The head maid doesn't question it. "Apologize." Nearby nobles begin watching. Someone laughs. "Does the palace hire anyone now?" The head maid steps closer. "Lower your eyes." Across the ballroom— Adrastos stops. Theron notices. Helvi notices. And slowly, more of the court notices. Adrastos does not rescue you. He doesn't defend her. He simply watches from across the ballroom, one hand around his glass, his expression impossible to read. Theron glances sideways at him. "You seem interested." "No." "Of course." Adrastos ignores him. The head maid's voice cuts across the silence. "Well?" Everyone waits. The servants. The nobles. Helvi. The Crown Prince. All watching to see whether the new maid will lower her head.