The afternoon passed slowly. Maya had settled into her chambers, tugging lightly at her corset and enjoying the rare privacy. Outside, the faint hum of the palace carried through the halls—the soft patter of footsteps, the shuffle of servants, and the occasional clatter of armor.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Your Highness, the maids are here to assist you for the evening dinner," a polite voice said.
Maya opened the door to see three young women standing gracefully, their dresses neat and simple, movements fluid and precise. Their beauty was impossible to miss: lustrous hair, flawless skin, perfect posture, and statuesque, athletic bodies that moved with effortless grace.
Maya looked at herself in comparison. The body she now inhabited was different from theirs—petite, full in the breasts and hips, and with her own long, shiny hair—smaller, softer, yet undeniably feminine. She smiled faintly, adjusting her corset. I may not look palace-perfect, but I can manage.
"Evening dinner? Alright," she said casually, "but… I'll manage the bath myself."
The maids froze, eyes widening in shock. One stammered, "Y-Your Highness… usually we… we assist you with your bathing…"
Maya tilted her head, smiling faintly. "I appreciate it, really, but I can do it myself."
The other two maids exchanged astonished glances. She's… human, and she dares to refuse us? one thought, her expression tightening into something sharp, almost disgusted.
"We have fetched your water, Your Highness," the first maid said carefully, bowing slightly. "We will wait outside and assist with your gown once you are ready."
Maya nodded and stepped into the large wooden basin. Warm water filled the tub, scented faintly with herbs. The tight corset pressed against her ribs, but she tugged lightly at the laces, enjoying the small relief. Outside, the maids stood silently, still visibly shocked, exchanging glances that held a hint of disdain toward her human form.
Once she finished bathing, Maya stepped out, and the maids were ready with towels and a fresh gown.
"Thank you," Maya said warmly as they helped her dress. "You've been very kind."
One maid, curiosity overcoming shock, whispered softly, "Your Highness… you… you bathed yourself?"
"Yes," Maya said lightly, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. "I prefer to do it myself. I hope that's alright."
The maids exchanged subtle frowns, faces tightening in quiet disgust at her human body, her petite frame, and her independence. A human princess… daring, and bold… one thought. It's almost impossible to tolerate.
Once fully dressed in a simple yet elegant gown, Maya smiled and decided to engage them. "So… you've been here long? You must know the king and queen well. What are they like?"
The maids, slightly wary but intrigued, began to answer cautiously. One of the braver maids whispered, "The queen… she isn't… kind to everyone. They say she can be… ruthless, even cruel. Those who displease her…"
Before the words could go further, another maid stepped sharply on her foot, eyes flashing. "Shh! Not so loud!" she hissed, clearly alarmed.
The first maid yelped softly but remained silent after that, while the other two still looked at Maya with subtle disgust, their narrowed eyes and tight lips speaking volumes. She could feel it—her human body, smaller frame, and modern demeanor were all being judged.
Maya noticed it, tilting her head slightly. Interesting, she thought. She kept her smile polite. "I see… so the queen has a strong presence," she said carefully, letting her curiosity remain gentle.
The maids whispered softly among themselves, some still shocked at her refusal of help, some quietly criticizing her human body and confidence. But Maya remained composed, unbothered by the subtle disdain.
"I appreciate all your help. You've made this much easier than I expected," she said warmly.
They bowed respectfully, still murmuring quietly as she left the room. Despite the tension and subtle disgust, Maya could sense that her presence alone was stirring the palace waters.
When a servant knocked on the door, announcing, "Your Highness, the king and queen request your presence for dinner," Maya straightened her shoulders, tugged lightly at her gown, and took a deep breath.
Alright, she thought, smiling faintly. Time to meet the royals—and see what all this fuss is really about.
And with that, she followed the servant toward the grand dining hall, alert, curious, and ready to navigate the palace—and the Monster Prince's world—on her own terms.
The table was set with an array of dishes that Maya had never seen before. Bowls of steaming vegetables, strange sauces, roasted meats, and pastries she couldn't identify lined the long, polished surface. The aroma was rich, unfamiliar, almost overwhelming.
Maya picked at the food cautiously. She dipped a piece of roasted meat into a simple sauce and took a bite. It was flavorful, tender, and safe. She sipped a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice she had asked for quietly.
The nobles and staff at the table watched her every move, noting her curious but selective eating habits. Some whispered in muted tones, clearly puzzled by how the princess seemed to ignore most of the delicacies while calmly eating only what she liked.
Does she not appreciate our cuisine? one noble thought, frowning.
Maya, sensing the attention but unconcerned, leaned slightly toward her plate and quietly murmured to herself, "Better safe than… weird sauce." She took another bite of meat and another sip of juice, careful to keep her manners.
Darcien, standing silently at a slight distance, observed her with those piercing, unreadable eyes. He didn't comment, didn't flinch, and yet Maya could feel the weight of his scrutiny. She swallowed carefully, trying to ignore it, but a small thrill of excitement ran through her—he was not like anyone she had met before.
The maids whispered softly among themselves. She dares to ignore the royal dishes? one muttered. A human… bold and strange.
Maya caught a few of the glances, but kept her composure, smiling faintly at the king and queen when she glanced their way. She could follow etiquette when she needed to, but she wouldn't pretend to enjoy things she didn't.
The king said nothing more, watching her calmly, while the queen's faintly amused smile suggested she was taking mental notes of the human princess's behavior.
Maya took another careful bite, sipped her juice, and thought to herself, Well, at least I like the meat. That's enough for now.
The evening was settling into a quiet rhythm—Maya, composed yet distinctly different from everyone else, Darcien observing silently, and the maids murmuring quietly, trying to decide if this human princess could truly belong in their world.
The dining hall felt quieter than Maya expected.
There were no long rows of nobles, no crowded tables, no loud chatter. Only the royal family sat at the polished table—spaced, controlled, watchful.
At the head sat the king and queen. To one side were the two princes, one older and sharp-eyed, the other younger and visibly curious. The princess sat beside them, posture perfect, expression unreadable.
Maya took her seat beside Darcien.
The table was filled with food—rich dishes, unfamiliar sauces, carefully prepared meals meant for royalty. Maya studied them briefly before choosing the roasted meat. She ate slowly, calmly, washing it down with freshly squeezed orange juice.
The younger prince glanced at her plate. "That's all you're having?"
Maya looked up. "It looked the safest."
The older prince let out a soft scoff. "Brave words for someone new to the palace."
She shrugged lightly. "I like knowing what I'm eating."
The king raised a hand slightly, and the room settled again.
"The journey was long," he said, his voice firm. "You handled it well."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
The queen observed Maya over the rim of her cup. "You're very composed," she said. "Most brides are overwhelmed their first evening here."
Maya smiled faintly. "I think it helps not to overthink things."
The princess's gaze lingered on Maya for a moment longer than polite, her eyes sharp, assessing.
The queen set her cup down. "Tonight, you will be settling in properly." Her tone remained gentle. "You and my son will retire for the evening."
She paused.
"You will be sharing a room, yes?"
The table went still.
Maya felt the question settle like weight on her shoulders. She glanced at Darcien.
He sat back in his chair, eyes closed, arms resting loosely at his sides. He didn't react. Didn't speak. Didn't even acknowledge the question.
Maya returned her gaze to the queen. "I'll follow whatever arrangements have been prepared."
The queen studied her carefully, then smiled. "Good."
The older prince leaned back slightly. "Father, she's calmer than expected."
"Calm can be misleading," the queen replied smoothly.
The younger prince tilted his head. "Or impressive."
The king said nothing more, though his eyes lingered on Maya briefly before moving away.
"I would like to speak with you privately after dinner," the queen added. "There are matters you should understand."
Maya inclined her head. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Darcien shifted slightly, then settled again, eyes still closed—distant, cold, unreadable.
The meal continued in near silence.
Maya finished her food, aware of every glance, every unspoken judgment.
So this is the royal family, she thought.
Quiet. Controlled. And watching.
Beside her, Darcien remained untouched by the tension.
And that, somehow, made him the most unsettling presence at the table.
After dinner ended, the servants cleared the table in silence. The princes rose and departed, followed closely by the princess. Their footsteps faded into the distance.
Only the queen remained.
"Come," she said, standing. "We should speak."
Maya followed her through a narrow corridor where the light dimmed and the air felt heavier. The queen's steps were unhurried, confident, as though the palace itself bent around her.
She led Maya into a small sitting chamber—elegant, cold, and carefully arranged. A room meant for conversations that were never meant to be repeated.
"Sit," the queen said.
Maya obeyed.
The queen did not.
"Tell me," the queen began lightly, circling the room, "have you ever watched a tree rot from the inside?"
Maya frowned. "No, Your Majesty."
"It looks strong," the queen continued. "Tall. Unmovable. And yet, one day, it falls without warning." She stopped. "People are shocked. They say the storm caused it."
She smiled.
"But storms only reveal what was already weak."
Maya felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"Some branches," the queen said softly, "grow where they do not belong. They drain the tree instead of strengthening it."
She turned to face Maya. "What would you do with such a branch?"
Maya chose her words carefully. "Prune it… before it damages the rest."
The queen's smile widened.
"Exactly."
Silence stretched between them.
"You are now bound to my son," the queen continued, her tone still pleasant. "That makes you… close to a problem."
Maya's brows knit together. "A problem?"
"A question mark," the queen corrected. "And question marks invite answers."
She moved closer. "Darcien was born under unfortunate circumstances. Some births are mistakes. Others are warnings."
Maya's hands tightened in her lap. So this is it, she thought. She doesn't hide it at all—just enough.
"You will hear many stories," the queen went on. "Some paint him as strong. Others as dangerous. Both are useful."
"For whom?" Maya asked before she could stop herself.
The queen's eyes gleamed. "For those who know how to survive."
She straightened, smoothing her gown. "My sons, for instance, are… obedient. Predictable. They understand order."
Maya finally understood. She doesn't want Darcien to fail quietly. She wants him removed.
"You are clever," the queen said suddenly. "Clever enough to know that standing too close to a collapsing structure is unwise."
Maya met her gaze. "And if the structure isn't collapsing?"
The queen tilted her head. "Then someone will make sure it does."
She turned toward the door. "You will sleep separately tonight. Appearances will be managed. Do not grow attached to things that cannot be saved."
At the threshold, she paused.
"One last thought," the queen said softly. "When succession comes, only one branch will remain."
Then she left.
Maya sat there long after the door closed.
She doesn't just dislike him, Maya realized.
She's planning to erase him.
And somehow—
Maya knew she had just been placed between the blade and the neck.
After dinner ended, the servants cleared the table in silence. The princes rose and departed, followed closely by the princess. Their footsteps faded into the distance.
Only the queen remained.
"Come," she said, standing. "We should speak."
Maya followed her through a narrow corridor where the light dimmed and the air felt heavier. The queen's steps were unhurried, confident, as though the palace itself bent around her.
She led Maya into a small sitting chamber—elegant, cold, and carefully arranged. A room meant for conversations that were never meant to be repeated.
"Sit," the queen said.
Maya obeyed.
The queen did not.
"Tell me," the queen began lightly, circling the room, "have you ever watched a tree rot from the inside?"
Maya frowned. "No, Your Majesty."
"It looks strong," the queen continued. "Tall. Unmovable. And yet, one day, it falls without warning." She stopped. "People are shocked. They say the storm caused it."
She smiled.
"But storms only reveal what was already weak."
Maya felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"Some branches," the queen said softly, "grow where they do not belong. They drain the tree instead of strengthening it."
She turned to face Maya. "What would you do with such a branch?"
Maya chose her words carefully. "Prune it… before it damages the rest."
The queen's smile widened.
"Exactly."
Silence stretched between them.
"You are now bound to my son," the queen continued, her tone still pleasant. "That makes you… close to a problem."
Maya's brows knit together. "A problem?"
"A question mark," the queen corrected. "And question marks invite answers."
She moved closer. "Darcien was born under unfortunate circumstances. Some births are mistakes. Others are warnings."
Maya's hands tightened in her lap. So this is it, she thought. She doesn't hide it at all—just enough.
"You will hear many stories," the queen went on. "Some paint him as strong. Others as dangerous. Both are useful."
"For whom?" Maya asked before she could stop herself.
The queen's eyes gleamed. "For those who know how to survive."
She straightened, smoothing her gown. "My sons, for instance, are… obedient. Predictable. They understand order."
Maya finally understood. She doesn't want Darcien to fail quietly. She wants him removed.
"You are clever," the queen said suddenly. "Clever enough to know that standing too close to a collapsing structure is unwise."
Maya met her gaze. "And if the structure isn't collapsing?"
The queen tilted her head. "Then someone will make sure it does."
She turned toward the door. "You will sleep separately tonight. Appearances will be managed. Do not grow attached to things that cannot be saved."
At the threshold, she paused.
"One last thought," the queen said softly. "When succession comes, only one branch will remain."
Then she left.
Maya sat there long after the door closed.
She doesn't just dislike him, Maya realized.
She's planning to erase him.
And somehow—
Maya knew she had just been placed between the blade and the neck.
Sleep came lightly, dreams fragmented. Faces from her past flashed—modern life, her first marriage, moments with her husband—memories she hadn't fully remembered until now. And always, at the edge, the shadow of the queen's words:
Do not grow attached to things that cannot be saved.
⸻
The Next Morning
Sunlight slipped through the curtains. The palace was quiet, almost too quiet. Maya rose and dressed, her mind alert.
Outside her door, the maids moved softly, carrying water and linen.
"His Highness will not be present for breakfast," one whispered to another.
"Why?" the second asked.
"The queen said it was unnecessary."
Maya's heart skipped slightly. The word "unnecessary" felt deliberate, controlled, ominous. She leaned slightly to hear more, but the maids moved on.
She dressed and walked toward the window, looking out at the vast palace grounds. The trees stood tall, calm, unyielding in the morning light.
Some branches grow where they do not belong… she thought again. And the queen wants to prune them all.
Maya inhaled slowly. She didn't yet know all the rules, or how the queen's plans would unfold. But one thing was certain: she would stand for Darcien, whether he wanted her help or not.
And this palace, with all its shadows, whispers, and riddles…
She would face it head-on.
Maya sat at the table, the corset pinching her ribs, poking at the roasted meat with her fork. She glanced around the hall.
The king and queen were flawless—no wrinkles, no signs of tiredness, every movement smooth and composed. The two princes were tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular in a way that made her want to shrink into her chair. Even the princess sat quietly, poised and sharp-eyed, watching everyone like she had a radar for nonsense.
Okay… wow, Maya thought, grinning to herself. If perfection were contagious, I'd be dead by now. Seriously… do they all wake up like this, or is there a secret morning potion I missed?
She snorted quietly. Darcien's piercing gaze flicked toward her. He said nothing, but she felt it—sharp, silent judgment. Yep, definitely thinking I'm the weird breakfast guest. Perfect.
Then, her brain clicked to the next absurd thought. Wait… are they all… the same age? she wondered. The king and queen don't look a day older than the princes. And the princess—same deal. Is this some weird family trend, or do they just all ignore time like it's annoying homework?
She shook her head slightly, trying not to laugh aloud.
The king's calm voice broke through. "Princess Elowen how was your night? Comfortable, I hope?"
Maya blinked. "Yes… Your Majesty. Comfortable enough. The chamber is… spacious," she replied, keeping her tone polite while inwardly still marveling at the family's impossible youth.
The king's eyes remained steady, unreadable. "Good. And would you like to remain in the main palace for some more time?"
Maya tilted her head, confused. Remain… main palace? Sleep here forever? Become part of the furniture? "I… I'm not sure what you mean, Your Majesty," she said carefully.
"The prince will explain it to you," the king said lightly, glancing toward the silent, imposing prince across the table.
Darcien's eyes flicked at her briefly, still unreadable. Maya swallowed and focused back on her plate, picking at her meat.
Perfect, she thought wryly. Tall, silent, intimidating, and apparently my personal guide to palace mysteries. Fantastic.
She muttered to herself in her head, Honestly, surviving this palace deserves a medal—or at least stretchy pants.
The hall fell into quiet murmurs again, only the scrape of cutlery filling the air. Maya exhaled slowly, bracing herself for whatever Darcy might explain next—and the day ahead in this impossibly perfect, unnervingly youthful palace.
Maya fell into step behind Darcy, adjusting the heavy skirts of the gown she now wore while trying not to wobble in the corset. He moved quickly, long, confident strides that made her have to jog slightly to keep up.
Her eyes kept drifting to him, even as she tried to focus. His jaw was sharp, almost sculpted, framing a face she recognized from the modern world—but here, somehow, every feature was even better. Dark eyes framed by thick lashes that made her blink more than once, broad chest, tall and imposing, and those thin, precise pink lips.
Maya's thoughts: Okay… wow. Tall, terrifying, and ridiculously perfect. Why does he have to make walking down a hallway feel like a cardio session AND a heart attack at the same time?
She hurried, skirts swishing, trying not to trip over herself.
Darcy glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes locking onto hers. "Why are you following me?" His voice was low, calm, and commanding, but there was an edge that made her flush.
"I… I just thought… um…" Maya stammered internally, facepalming. Modern me would've said something witty. Elowen… not so much. "I… didn't want to get lost, Your Highness," she said aloud, her voice polite but awkward.
He raised a brow, expression unreadable, but she felt the silent judgment radiating off him. "You don't behave like a princess," he said flatly. "And you certainly don't speak like one."
Maya's thoughts: Oh, fantastic. Apparently polite honesty is a crime in palace etiquette. Great start, Maya.
She flushed, biting her cheek as she tried to jog without stumbling. "I… I'm trying," she said softly.
Darcy didn't answer. He turned forward, silent and commanding, his presence pulling the air around him taut.
Maya's thoughts: Totally normal to be half-distracted by a terrifying, impossibly perfect prince while practically jogging in a corset. Nothing weird here. Totally fine.
Maya fell into step behind Darcy, adjusting the heavy skirts of the gown she wore while trying not to wobble in the corset. He moved quickly, long, confident strides that made her jog slightly to keep up.
"Your Highness," he reminded sharply when she tried to call him Darcy.
"What do you mean, Your Highness?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"You will address me as Your Highness," he said evenly, turning forward again.
"No. I will not call you Your Highness," Maya replied, crossing her arms lightly.
Darcy glanced back at her, expression unreadable, and then let out a low chuckle.
Maya's thoughts: Yep, perfect. He laughs at me already. Totally normal.
Darcy finally said, "If you wish to know, ask."
Maya's eyes lit up. "Okay! So… why did the king ask if I want to stay in the main palace? Does that mean I'll be here for a long time? And how do the servants know where to go if the corridors are so long? And why are the doors so tall? Do the windows open? And—"
Darcy stopped and turned to look at her, one brow raised. "You ask too much," he said flatly, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips.
"I… I just want to understand the palace!" Maya said, her voice hurried. "It's huge and confusing and I don't know what to expect!"
Darcy sighed softly, but his tone remained calm. "Very well. We will go one question at a time. The king asked because we are staying in his palace for only a week—for appearances. We will remain here temporarily; normally, I reside in my own palace. They do not wish me here .
She dove into her questions, one after another: the servants, the long corridors, the tall doors, whether the windows opened, the meals, and the number of people in the palace. Darcy answered each carefully, patiently, one by one.
After several minutes, Darcy muttered, almost to himself, "I may have… spoken too much."
Maya's thoughts: Too much? He's… polite, calm, not rushing me… wow. Huh.
Then a memory from the modern world hit her—modern Maya. Every time Darcy had come home in her world, which was rare, he never let her speak. He would dominate the conversation, ignore her questions, or simply remain silent while she waited. And now, here he was, calmly answering every single question she threw at him.
Her mood shifted suddenly, a mix of irritation and embarrassment. Why am I even feeling this? she wondered, cheeks heating.
"I… thank you, Your Highness," she said quickly, her voice polite. "But I think I should… excuse myself to my chamber."
Darcy's dark eyes lingered on her as she started to step away. For a brief moment, he tilted his head slightly, as if wondering, Did I say something wrong? Then he turned forward, silent and unreadable, ignoring the thought entirely.
Maya moved down the hall, adjusting her corset and smoothing her skirts, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Why does he make me feel so… odd? And yet I'm annoyed at myself for feeling it? She shut the door behind her with a soft click and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a quiet exhale.
After adjusting her corset one last time and smoothing her skirts, Maya sank onto the soft bed in her chamber. The room smelled faintly of lavender and polished wood, the warm sunlight filtering through the tall windows lulling her toward rest.
Maybe a short nap… just to recover from all the questions and the terrifyingly perfect prince, she thought, letting herself relax.
Her eyes closed, and soon she drifted into sleep.
In her dream, the jungle around her was dense and wild. She could hear the rush of water, the cries of distant animals, and the soft, hurried footsteps of a child.
A small girl ran through the thick undergrowth, her dark hair flying behind her. Maya recognized the child instantly—little Elowen—though her face was innocent and full of fear. Running beside her was a mysterious woman, cloaked in shadows, whose face Maya could not clearly see. The woman's hands guided Elowen, shielding her from unseen dangers, pulling her back when branches snagged at her hair, and urging her onward with a quiet, urgent authority.
The forest seemed alive with whispers, the air thick and tense, as if something—or someone—was chasing them. Maya felt the fear in the girl's small body, the desperate need to escape, and a strange sense of familiarity.
Maya's thoughts in the dream: Who is that woman? Why does she feel… familiar? And why does this feel so important?
The child stumbled over a root, and the woman caught her instantly, holding her close. They looked at each other, though the woman's face remained hidden. Then, before Maya could reach out, a dark shadow passed through the trees, and the dream ended abruptly.
Maya woke with a start, heart racing, the images of the jungle and the mysterious woman lingering in her mind. She sat up, brushing her hair from her face, trying to shake off the lingering unease.
What was that? she thought, glancing around her chamber. It felt like… a memory. Or a warning. Or… something I'm supposed to know.
Her eyes drifted to the tall windows and the shining sunlight, and she tried to focus on the present. Okay, Maya. Focus on surviving the palace first. Dream mysteries later. And maybe… figure out how to keep the terrifyingly perfect prince from noticing how much I think about him.
Maya awoke to the afternoon sun streaming through her chamber windows. She stretched and groaned, tugging at the tight corset.
Seriously… how does anyone survive in these things all day? she muttered, deciding to just walk carefully for now.
Curious about the palace, she stepped into the bustling corridor. Maids hurried past with trays, baskets of linens, and buckets of water, the echo of their footsteps filling the hall.
Okay… so not exactly quiet, she thought, adjusting her skirts. But I might as well see more of this place… carefully this time.
She approached one of the younger maids, who was balancing a tray of goblets. "Excuse me," Maya began politely, "could you maybe… show me around the palace a little? I'm still… finding my way."
The maid glanced at her briefly, then hesitated. "I… I'm sorry, Your Highness," she said softly, bowing her head, "I have my duties, and I can't leave them. Perhaps another time."
Maya's thoughts: Another time? Yeah, sure. Like that's going to happen. Fine… guess I'm doing this on my own.
Shrugging, Maya wandered down the corridor by herself, lifting her skirts slightly to avoid tripping. She admired the tall doors, intricate carvings, and sunlight streaming through the windows, letting her curiosity guide her steps.
And then—bam!
She collided with someone broad-shouldered, tall, and impossibly imposing.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, stumbling back slightly.
The young man's sharp eyes, dark and piercing, fixed on her with immediate disgust. "Watch where you're going," he said coolly, his voice edged with disdain.
"I—I'm so sorry!" Maya stammered, trying to recover, curtsying awkwardly. "I didn't mean—"
He stepped back, still staring at her with clear disapproval. Maya could feel the weight of his judgment. Yikes. Yep… definitely made a bad first impression.
Maya's thoughts: Okay… wandering alone in a palace full of people who look like they could crush me with one hand was maybe a bad idea. And he looks like he's disgusted just because I exist. Great.
She forced a polite smile and stepped aside. "I'll be more careful," she said softly, backing away.
The prince said nothing further, only gave her a cold glance before striding off, posture perfect and untouchable .