Chapter 5
My eyes slowly open to the quietness of the room, my body feeling well-rested, with the tense muscles from my usual stress-filled days gone. I felt light and agile. Sometime during the massage, I must have fallen asleep as I find myself now lying in the large bed, the duvet covering my now relaxed body. I feel warm and cozy, but reality crashes down when I move to get more comfortable and realize there is something attached to my feet. Jolting awake, I fling the duvet off of me, taking note of the heels now carefully strapped onto each foot. I remember my body being naked under the prep team’s care, but now I sat in the large bed in a flowing, almost sheer, dress and, after further inspection, a lacy white thong and push-up bra set. Someone must have dressed my unconscious body after the massage put me to sleep, and the thought of this causes goose bumps to form on my skin and shivers to slowly crawl down my spine. I prayed that the prep team was the one to dress and move me.
Deciding to stretch and explore what is my room for the rest of my life, I gingerly climb out of bed and carefully return the duvet back into position, leaving the bed as if no one had slept in it. That’s when I noticed a slightly crumpled note on the bed that must have gotten mixed into the duvet when I threw it off of me. Reaching for the note, my eyes widen at the manicured hands in front of me, shocked at how beautiful and elegant my normally rough hands are. My nails are rounded at a comfortable length that allows me to still do everyday tasks, the colour a pearlescent white with black French tips. The only design is the Prince’s crest on each ring finger, with a gem twinkling in the light just above the design. For once, I felt like a woman, not a child from the slums who fought her way out. Once done examining my nails, I reach again for the note and read the contents.
Lyra,
I noticed you asleep and dressed after the prep team took care of you and decided to lay you in
bed. Feel free to explore the palace, as it is your new home, and I want you to be comfortable.
Just remember your curfew.
Sincerely,
Alekai
I smile with this note, happy to know I have free reign to travel inside the Palace without an escort. Then, throwing the note onto the nightstand, I stride out of the room happily, ready to find my escape.
…
I groan in frustration, finding myself facing another dead end with a portrait of some dead royal looking down on me as if mocking me for my directionally challenged brain. I felt lost and defeated in this maze-like Palace, finding many dead ends or servant quarters, but never an exit to the outside. Many servants see me but ignore my presence as if I was nothing but a ghost. Apparently, slaves and pets were nothing in their eyes other than something to prevent from leaving. No one asked if I needed help finding my way or asked if I was lost. I felt alone in the halls with no companion to talk to and no one to help me. With a sigh, I turn the way I came, coming to a stop at the four-way intersection in the halls. Straight leads me to the grand staircase where the rooms and studies are and the entrance to the Palace; behind me is a dead end. But left and right were unknown areas yet to be explored. And then my stomach growls, protesting the lack of food and reminding me the only thing I have eaten is the breakfast at the pet shop this morning.
As I decide which way to take, the smell of pastries baking catches my attention from the right hall, causing my stomach to rumble once again. With a new goal in mind of getting food, I walk down the hall on the right, following the smell that fills each crevice with its mouth-watering aroma. More doors lead to unknown rooms while servants stare and whisper as I pass by, reminding me that I am alone here in this beautiful prison. I decide to ignore them and continue on this quest to fill my grumbling stomach as soon as possible. With each step, the smell of danishes, rolls and my favourite, croissants, became stronger upon arriving at the entrance to a glorious kitchen. The room is brightly lit with more floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side that looks out into a garden, one I assume is filled with vegetables and fruit, an easy supply of fresh produce for the Palace. The south side of the room is filled with shelving, a door to what I assume is a very large pantry, and the unmistakable doors to a walk-in fridge. Ovens and stovetops line the north side of the room, the smell of pastries coming from them making my stomach growl again in protest of being empty.
“We have extras, darling, if you’re hungry.” A friendly voice steers me from gawking at the kitchen, my hands itching to get in there and cook alongside the staff. I turn towards a woman in her mid-thirties, her curly blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun as she carries a hot tray full of strawberry danishes by its smell.
“Please, I am starving,” I answer graciously, walking towards a picnic bench that this friendly woman motions me towards. I smile when she sets the tray down and accepts a plate from another staff member, where she promptly plates two danishes and hands the plate to me.
“Thank you!” I quickly mutter, taking a bite of the delicious treat, smiling as the woman waltz around the kitchen with a small basket, filling it with goodies from cookies to pastries and everything in between, before coming to a stop at the bench and taking a seat, pushing the basket towards me.
“You look like you are enjoying those,” she chuckles, motioning to my nearly empty plate, causing me to blush.
“Yeah, it’s the second thing I have eaten today since early morning,” I answer, blushing in embarrassment. The woman laughs some more, giving another staff member an order to bring me a bowl of soup that is promptly placed in front of me with a fresh-baked roll that I promptly dig into and enjoy.
“I’m Ali, by the way. Don’t mind my bluntness, but you must be the Prince’s new Pet the Palace maids are gossiping about.” I groan at her words, leaning against the wall and sighing as I stir the soup, my appetite slowly dissipating at the mention of the unhelpful maids and my situation.
“I’m Lyra, and yes, I am his pet.” I sigh out sadly, pushing the half-empty bowl away and looking wistfully at the kitchen staff working away with baking and prepping food for the Palace.
“In all honesty, I would rather be here slaving away at the stove making delicious food than dressed up like a fashion doll for someone to play with.” My eyes tear up, feeling the unfairness of the situation and how I would never graduate from college. How I will be stuck here, unable to do anything but be used and abused by a pampered prince with no sense of humanity.
“You cook?” Her question causes me to smile and nod, turning to face this potential friend.
“I am a culinary student at the college downtown. This was supposed to be my first year, and I would enter an apprenticeship when the school year ended for a year before going back for my last year.” I answer honestly, looking back towards the kitchen staff, itching to cover my hands in flour and bake a few loaves of bread.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Ali is up and by my side, giving me a very needed and comforting hug.
“It’s not your fault.” I smile at the warmth, hugging this woman back and letting myself shed a few tears into her apron that smelt like fresh bread and cookies. A comfort that eased the sadness of my lost future.
“I know it isn’t, but someone needs to apologize for this injustice to you, hun. If it makes you feel any better, you are welcome to come to my kitchen and cook. I am the head chef here and could always use a new pair of hands, especially one who clearly has an interest in the culinary arts.” I smile, feeling a glimmer of hope for once as Ali gives me an opportunity I did not expect. Maybe this could be a way to get information and escape from Prince Alekai and the Palace.
“That would be amazing, Ali, thank you!” I take her hand, watching her wince and quickly let go, remembering the nails I now have.
“You’re welcome, and next time you’re here, I should have a pair of gloves because damn girl, those nails are sharp.” She cracks a joke, pointing to my perfectly manicured hands. Hands I will have to get used to eventually. The rest of the time is spent talking with Ali and the staff. The staff consisted of ten women and five men, each accepting me for who I am as a person and not my status as a pet. Due to my outfit and appearance, I couldn’t help with the cooking, but I did enjoy talking to everyone. I felt like I belonged in this part of the Palace, that my role as a pet was forgotten as I laugh and relax with everyone. Then the clock chimed, signalling the time as eight o’clock at night. I had lost track of time with everyone, and dread filled me.
“Lyra, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Max, a cook, states with worry. I stand quickly, rushing to my basket of goodies on the picnic table and heading to the door.
“I have to return to the Prince’s bedroom before nine. Elisa told me I would be punished if I am late, and I don’t think I could handle that right now.” I answer honestly, fear taking hold. The scene of the female slave being raped and bred like cattle plays in my mind, and I begin to hyperventilate as anxiety takes hold.
“Lyra breathe, honey, breathe!” Ali is by my side, comforting me as an anxiety attack takes over. I focus on her voice, matching my breathing to hers until I settle down. The whole thing feels like an eternity, but from what Max tells me, it only took ten minutes.
“Max, could you man the kitchen for a bit while I take Lyra up the servant staircase?” Ali asks my new friend once noticing that my breathing is under control. I smile in thanks at this amazing woman, happy that my exploration and getting lost led me to these amazing people.
“Sure thing. Don’t worry, Lyra, you may be a pet, but you are also one of our own. We’ll keep you as safe as we can.” Max promises, his six-foot-five frame giving me a bear hug before Ali takes my hand and takes me to a hidden door behind a shelf that leads into a dimly lit staircase. The two of us climb in silence, a rule that Ali warned me before our ascent into the servant stairway. It is so that those in rooms that connected to this hidden area were not disturbed. Each step is calculated, so I do not trip in the heels strapped to my slender feet. Ali curses under her breath every so often when I trip on the uneven stone surface while helping me straighten up. This journey feels like ages as the two of us make our way in silence, me praying to beat the clock and be in the bedroom before nine o’clock. Finally, Ali pulls me to a stop on a landing and points down the hall to the right.
“At the end is the Prince’s bedroom. No one is allowed to enter his room but Prince Alekai and his designated people. It’s a straight path from there down to the kitchen if you ever need to get away and bake.” With that, she hugs me and double-checks the basket of goodies in my arm, happy that none of the baked treats had fallen out from me tripping multiple times. I thank her once more before carefully rushing down the hallway until the sight of a door brings instant relief. Flinging the door open upon reaching it, I come face to face with fabric, realizing instantly that this fabric is the back of the tapestry. My hidden pathway led to a well-hidden place and could be used for a perfect escape in the future. With a grin, I carefully close the door behind me and walk out from behind the tapestry, quickly focusing on the clock and sighing with relief when I realize that I made it with fifteen minutes to spare. Placing my basket of baked treats onto a nearby table, I decide to use these fifteen minutes of freedom to explore the room I would be sharing with the Prince, deciding that the strategy of “know thy enemy” would be my best bet. My hands run along the bookshelves, getting excited to curl into the chairs and read. But my main focus is looking for hidden passageways. Disappointed by finding none, I snoop through any area I can, opening drawers and looking under each piece of furniture and behind every painting. I’m trying to see if anything was hidden in plain sight, like a map of any kind or documents I could hold as leverage, but the search is once again futile. With a sigh, I walk towards the only two doors I have yet to go through, wondering what was hidden there. Determined to know more about my surroundings, I fling open the doors to reveal a large walk-in closet that is three – no – four times bigger than my childhood bedroom. Split down the middle for a his and hers side, I gasp at the luxury products, some from a brand I knew all too well, Leté Fashée—Aime’s family company. My throat tightens as I wonder once again about my friends’ safety and if they, too, were sold into slavery, if they were looking for their freedom and trying to escape their captors as well.
“I thought I would find you here." A husky voice sounds behind me as solid arms pull me back against a sturdy chest. I know instantly who it is. It is Prince Alekai.
