Living in royalty can't be so bad, right? But... what if you're not technically royal?
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In late eighteenth century Europe, nestled in eastern France, is a peaceful kingdom called Totresia. A carriage wreck disturbs that peace when found by Totr...
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Johanna's new job wasan upgrade, compared to most she'd had. Her current boss was better—the other masters she'd attended in her lifetime hadn't given her such liberties.
She'd been through her fair share of terrifying households; in her first, in Limesdale, they beat her, bruised her, mocked her, locked her up. She had friends but couldn't enjoy them; she loved to cook and bake, but they didn't permit her to.
Her second appointment brought her to the Torrinni Castle, the dwelling of the Totresian royal family. She scrubbed the kitchen floors and was never allowed upstairs, never able to see the light of day. No one damaged her there, but she'd forgotten what fresh air smelled like, and realized she'd taken for granted any moment she'd spent outdoors.
She cried when the royals shipped her to Limesdale once more, but near squealed with joy when they sent her to a cabin in the forest on the outskirts of the city, instead. She was to keep out of sight, not interact with anyone; and if she had to venture into town for supplies, she had to be unrecognizable.
Some time passed, and barely used to her isolation—and the deliveries from mysterymen with food—they snatched her again and threw a sack over her head and tossed her into a carriage.
"You are to work in the Dowager Queen's service," said a feminine voice she thought she knew, but struggled to place. An exotic tone, deep and seductive, with a slight accent she couldn't decipher.
They didn'tbring her to the castle—the trip was shorter, and the air smelled different. Forest-like and soothing; not the cramped, stale odors from Torrinni City.
They whisked her through rooms filled with mold. Scurried up stairs that twisted to the left, then down a hallway to her right. They shoved her into a stuffy, small room, where they removed the sack and slammed the door, locking her in.
She wished to scream, but what good would that do? She was a serving-girl, a person of low-birth, scum that sponged floors and cleaned chamber-pots and slept on the ground. No one cared for her distress.
Instead, she took in her surroundings. A great oak desk sat to her left, covered in paperwork. A sitting area and hearth were to the right, emitting a hazy smoke and a scent of days-old coffee. Farther down from the fireplace, in a corner, she saw a half-open door leading into what seemed to be a bedroom.
What is this place?
The main door blasted open again, revealing a dark-skinned maiden, not much older than she, with ebony locks flowing down over her shoulders and eyes bright like summer limes. "Welcome, Johanna."
"Wh-where am I?" Johanna wasn't sure whether to curtsy to this individual, or back away and flatten herself against a wall.
At first glance, the young woman had soft features and a dashing smile; but as she approached, her posture became rigid, unfriendly, prompting Johanna's heart to stop. "The Totresian Royal Academy for Noble Girls. This is the Director's office."
