I woke up this morning feeling numb. Well, afraid and then numb.

In my dreams, I was back in my old room, watching the sun rise as Sarah braided my hair. I felt at peace, feeling her nails against my scalp as I sat in the familiar comfort of my old home.

And then I woke up in an unfamiliar room, wrapped in wafer-thin sheets and lying on an uncomfortable bed. I then remembered everything—being sent to the Gahndor Palace as a maid, the ride here, the First Feast, meeting the royal family, the insults from Gertrude, the threat from Prince Kohl.

I twist my sheets to look towards the girl in the corner of the room, kneeling on her bed as she folds away her pajamas. I remember that at least one good thing has come out of this.

She turns to me with her hazel gaze. Her eyes light up when they meet mine. "Morning, Naomi! Sleep well?"

"Yes," I lie. Truth is, I barely slept at all, and the moment I did, I had a dream that left me feeling broken and empty now that I was out of it.

She smiles as she looks back at her clothes. She's wearing her maid outfit, only without the boots. They sit at the foot of her bed.

"Good. Today is the first training session. We need to accompany Gertrude there and bring her water and towels when she needs them." She turns back to me, and I can see the twinkle of doubt in her eyes. "The royal family is going to be there to watch. Head Maid Greta wants us on our best behaviour."

I nod and step out of bed. Attending to Gertrude this early in the morning doesn't sound desirable, but it's what I signed up for. Well... more like what I was forced into. Then again, it's not like I had a choice. "Do we get to have breakfast first?"

Macy's lips thin into a grimace as she shakes her head. "No... we have to wait until lunch. The ladies will have breakfast while we set up the training equipment and everything."

I grimace and resist the urge to rug my aching belly. I haven't eaten much these past two days, and now my stomach is a grumbling mess of knots. It didn't bother me yesterday that I only had a small lunch break in Greta's lessons, seeing as only the royals and ladies can dine during the First Feast. Now, however, I want to eat, and I'm not sure if I can wait until noon.

In silence, I slide into my maid uniform as Macy slips out of the room to use the communal bathroom. I make a mental note to have a shower after lunch as I tug on my boots and throw my hair into a low ponytail. A part of me hurts as I think of how Sarah would scold me for wearing such a plain hairstyle, but I push it away. I'll never have my hair braided for me anymore. If anything, I'll be doing the braiding.

I'm ready to leave as soon as Macy gets back. Together, we walk down the halls as other maids begin to emerge from their rooms, all prim and proper, but plagued with black bags under their eyes. They mustn't have slept much either. I suppose this is as much a shift for them as it is for me.

Macy takes us down a few foreign corridors in a side of the palace I have yet to explore. She points out a courtyard off to my right, and I manage to catch a glimpse of the vibrant flowerbeds as we pass by an archway. Eventually, we find a room with two wooden double doors, both propped open with doorstops. As soon as we make our way inside, Head Maid Greta stands before us, chattering silently to other maids who arrived early.

We linger around until the room is full of thirty or so maids. The numbers add up because I recall there being at least fifteen girls in the competition. Once everyone is settled, Greta assigns us different jobs. Macy and I are tasked with setting up the mannequins, which are basically leather models of human bodies stuffed to the brim with hay and cotton.

We all work in silence, some girls setting up towels and pitchers on tables, while others, such as us, set up the mannequins. Before long, I hear a flock of feminine voices drift down the hall, and Head Maid Greta quickly ushers us to stand against the walls.

One by one, the girls enter. I notice a regal woman walking among them, one who looks too old to be part of the competition herself. I pin her as the Head Lady.

After them, the royal family walks in, and I can feel the hush that settles over the room as Kohl finally passes under the door. He looks exactly how he did last night, though the rings around his eyes look darker than they did. Along with his father and mother, he approaches the three thrones set off to the side and settles into the middle one. The girls chatter and giggle among themselves as they sneak glances at him, but I roll my eyes. The man couldn't look less thrilled to be here.

The Head Lady claps twice, her green eyes scanning the room. "Alright, ladies," she says. "Pick a mannequin and practice your combat skills. Don't just focus on tearing them apart, but also focus on the techniques you use. Try not to exhaust yourselves, because after this we will head to the track to practice sprints. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Lady Yvonne," they mutter back. With that, the girls split off to claim their own mannequins. Althea shoots me a smug look as she heads for the one in the middle, right in the prince's line of sight. Jade, modest as ever, goes to the far right while Gertrude picks the one closest to the left wall, nearest to us. Macy and I stand idly by the table with the water pitcher and towels as Gertrude transforms into a grey-brown wolf and begins to shred into the mannequin. Though she's messy with her technique, there's no doubt that she is strong, if not the strongest. Even Althea can't seem to bite into the leather with the force she does.

As I watch, I can feel a pair of eyes on my temple, as though trying to bore a hole through my skull. I turn to find the golden eyes of Prince Kohl watching me, and my throat closes up. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he hasn't forgotten the encounter, nor the threat. I hold his gaze for a few seconds before I have to look away. If my clumsiness is enough to anger him, then maybe prolonged eye contact is as well, and I don't really want to die today.

Just then, Gertrude calls out to us. "Towel and water, damn it!" she barks. Macy limps over with a large white bath towel in hand while I walk closely behind with a pitcher and cup in hand. Macy stumbles as Gertrude bites the towel and yanks it from her grasp. In the blink of an eye, she is human, wrapping the towel around her body. She fixes Macy with a glare.

"If you're going to be a goddamn towel runner, at least learn how to stay upright. And don't be so goddamn slow," she growls. I pause several feet away, a fire burning in my throat as I see Macy tense.

She bows her head, dark curls falling over her shoulders. "My apologies. I'll try to be faster."

Gertrude snorts, a crude sound that's similar to one people make when there's phlegm in their throat. "That's the irony though, isn't it? You can't be faster, limpy. All because of your stupid fucking leg."

With her hand, she grabs Macy's face and shoves her away. Before I can even process what just happened, she saunters over and snatches the pitcher from my grasp, chugging straight from the jug itself in audible gulps.

"There, now fuck off," she says as she shoves the pitcher back into my chest, making ice-cold water slosh onto my shirt. She turns away, but I am left with a bitter taste in my mouth, one that leaks into my blood and brain like poison. I look at Macy, who again looks on the verge of tears. I feel angry—the type of anger that flares in your stomach and consumes you whole.

I decide if I don't do it for myself, I'll at least do it for Macy. So, stepping forward, I pretend to trip as I pour the entire jug of ice-cold water down Getrude's back. She yelps in shock and then whirls around on me in a fury.

At first, I feel victorious. I think it even shines through in my small grin. It feels good to have the upper hand for once, after being powerless for so long.

But my victory is short lived. In a swift move, Gertrude punches me square in the face. Hard. I don't even realize she punched me until I am falling back, blue, red, and green flashing in my vision as pain blooms in my face. I gasp as my rear hits the ground, and pain forks through me.

"Watch your fucking step, bitch!" she snaps. I cover my throbbing nose with my hands. I think it's broken.

Then someone storms over. I look up to see Althea, her expression like that of a storm cloud. I am momentarily in shock because I have never seen her look so enraged. Yes, I've seen her get angry over petty things, but now it looks like she might smite Gertrude with her gaze alone.

"You bitch!" Althea yells. She swings. A loud crack rings out as her fist connects with Gertrude's jaw, and then all hell breaks loose. The two swing, bite, and pull at each other's hair until they are physically pulled apart by other girls. Althea is screaming obscenities at Gertrude, and Gertrude is screaming them right back. I do not get to watch the bizarre scene for long, however, as something hard grips my arm and I am hauled upright.

I am met with the hard gaze of Head Maid Greta as she pulls me out of the training room. I wince at the tightness of her grip, but I am too afraid to ask her to loosen it.

She says nothing. She just continues to drag me along until the sounds of chaos become distant. We are standing outside the door to the courtyard when she finally whirls around to speak. "Look what you have done, girl. Being such a Clutz in front of the royal family... how embarrassing! Do you feel no shame for the trouble you have caused poor Gertrude?"

I stare at her, dumbstruck. Blood is dribbling from my nose, and I'm semi-positive I have a busted lip, but there is no sympathy from her.

"I just... I just got punched!" I say, affronted.

Greta's eyes narrow. "Serves you right! A maid should never fall out of line and is to be punished when she does." She draws herself to her full height. She is at least a good foot taller than me. "This is your punishment. Go to the restroom, wash up, and come back only when you get your head straight. I will not have you making another mistake like that again."

With that, she whirls and storms away. I glare at her through teary vision, though I don't know if I'm crying because of my throbbing face or just the sheer injustice of it all. Either way, I am far too angry to comply with what she said.

I decide that I won't go back to the room. I refuse to sit there and act as though everything that just happened is okay. Instead, I whirl around and storm into the courtyard.