1 Chapter 1

Delicious smells of morning bread and sweet pastries hung in the air as Naya hastily filled her basket with goods. She was so caught up in the art of baking that she hadn't noticed the hour hand tick over to seven. She was never late. Never. The feeling of anxiousness slowly formed in the pit of her stomach. She quickly covered the container with a white cloth to preserve heat and made her way to the large oak doors to exit.

The castle's two and a half acres of endless hallways and grand rooms often confuse newcomers. Luckily for Naya, she's not one and has no trouble navigating through the countless twists and turns. She could go the way she does every day, or she could risk it and take the faster route; the secret passageways. Not the kind that hides treasures or mysterious artifacts, but the kind that's like a spider web of interconnected pathways, built for the convenience of staff; convenience being a loose term. The floors are coated in a thick layer of built-up dirt and grime, and cobwebs hang from the ceilings as if they were decor.

Naya finds the fake stone door and slips inside. The air inside is dense, and it seems to suck the air from her lungs. The light in the room is slim, but she doesn't have time to light a candle. She walks slowly at first, but the panic continues to build until she is jogging. She carries her basket close to her chest to avoid contamination by the decaying walls. In total, she takes twelve turns and finally makes it to the nearly-invisible door at the end of the hall. It takes all of her strength to pry it open, and she wastes no time checking to see if it shut behind her. Naya understands where the nickname "The Maze" comes from. She's heard rumors of people becoming disoriented in the castle and never finding their way out again. Lost forever in a sea of corridors.

Naya was heaving by the time she reached her destination. It sat ominously in the center of an empty wall, with intricate swirls etched into the door frame and painted in gold. She took a few shaky steps and knocked seven times. For a moment she wondered if it was the wrong password. The pattern changes every two weeks, and she often forgets things, no matter how important they are. Fortunately, and slightly to her dismay, the door creaks open, taunting her with its slow pace. She forces her eyes downwards as she walks, avoiding the judgeful looks of the higher class. This was the part she hated the most. The disgusted faces looked down on her as if she were a bug that needed exterminating. Their stares burn holes in the back of her head. Her feet felt as though they were being weighed down, but she willed them to move until she reached the stairs to the King and Queen.

No matter how many times she lays her eyes upon them, she will forever be mystified by the sheer beauty and ornateness of the thrones and the people who perch atop them. The both of them sit elegantly, their posture a perfect example of royalty. Their clothes are made from the finest silk. Jewels and diamonds make up the patterns that span across the fibers. A necklace made of sapphires rests on the Queen's chest, its color slightly darker than her piercing blue eyes. Her skin is the color of ice, hiding her matching personality underneath. The king stares straight ahead, not bothering to acknowledge Naya. His features are just as sharp and deadly as his consort, but his animosity is infinitely worse.

Naya bends her knees and curtsies, something she is required to do every time she is in the presence of nobility. Only then does she register the deafening silence in the room to be shock. She forgot. Naya's eyes widened in realization.

"I'm terribly sorry," she stutters as she curtsies once more, "your majesty." The King says nothing. He simply stares at the wall as if she were mute, and no words had left her mouth. Naya does not look him in the eyes. She stays that way for a century, it seems, before he finally speaks.

"You are late." Three words Naya had hoped she would never hear. And yet she cannot ignore them.

"Yes, your Majesty," She stated with mock confidence. He turns his head slightly so his line of sight is now on her.

"You offer no explanation for your wrongdoing?" His voice is a controlled quiet; even more terrifying than a loud one. She meets his eyes.

"Your Majesty, the dough fell off the counter while I was baking, and I had to start from scratch." She hangs her head low to hide any remnants of the half lie showing on her face. A few seconds pass.

"I hope that this was a one-time occurrence. While I will enforce no punishment on you today, the next time I will not be so lenient." His words are final. Naya would be a fool to defy him. So with much strength, she forces away the possibilities of those words, and what they could mean.

She nods quickly, and he waves her away with the flick of his wrist. Instantly, the chatter picks up, the room erupting into a form of controlled chaos. It was as if they hadn't witnessed the threat, or how ruthless the king they follow can be. They continue their lives, likely to forget about this incident soon; but how can Naya? She will live every day in fear; fear that she will be late once again, or that her mother will lose the only daughter she had.

For some reason, the basket in Naya's hand felt heavier than before. It's mere existence, and everything she's risking to be worthy, becoming more of a burden than a gift. She walks briskly to each table, passing out the goods. The women eye it skeptically as if it were a bad apple. Then, becoming overwhelmed with "hunger", they take a bite. Their eyes widen ever so slightly, and then they take another. And another. Until the entirety of the food is gone.

Naya hears whispers around the room; quiet gossip. Certain words carry further than others. Words like "delicious" and "best". Naya had heard these words before, but they were always said between others, and never directly to her. She approaches the King and Queen with the best she has to offer. Thankfully, they are still warm and fresh. Each is wrapped in a beautiful piece of fabric with a glorious variety of flowers embroidered onto them. They reach out for the goods, expecting them to be placed directly into their hands. I do so, and watch them unwrap the royal breakfast. Both of them waft the air around it before taking a small bite.

Then she saw something mystical, something so crazy, she wondered if it was only in her head. The queen smiled. Not a teeth showing smile, but one that showed off dimples that weren't there before.

"Naya. I have a job for you. The coronation of Prince Kya, as you know, is nearing. I expect you to make the cake, as well as the deserts for the party. I expect it to be nothing less than extravagant," she orders with authority.

"Yes, your Majesty," Naya bows. The Queen dismisses her once more and returns to eating. Naya scurries towards the exit and finally escapes. She waits till the doors shut behind her to exhale. Her knees buckle beneath her and she falls to the floor. Naya has never told anyone about her condition. It doesn't normally take such a toll on her, but today was obviously too much. It doesn't matter how many breaths she takes, the oxygen seems to stop at her lungs, never reaching the other parts fo her body.

She uses the wall as support as she forces herself off the floor. Walking isn't an easy task, but somehow her legs propel her forward at a shaky pace. She can't let anyone see her like this, so she finds the first entrance to the secret passageways and stumbles inside. The damp air clings to her clothes, and the dust tickles her nose as she inhales. She ignores the moldering floors and sinks to the ground. Her lungs are working overdrive to pump the one thing she needs to the rest of her. After what seems like days, her heart rate begins to slow, and she starts breathing at a normal pace.

She finally picks herself off the floor and starts to make her way towards the kitchen once more. She walks slowly, for fear that her problem will reappear. An uneasy feeling swirls inside, making the hairs on her neck stand straight up. Naya looks over her shoulder only to see darkness behind her. That's when she remembers the basket she left behind. She facepalms herself at the stupidity of it, but doesn't change direction. She can come back for it later.

Naya stops abruptly at the sound of a footstep. Just one, as if the culprit had realized their mistake and stopped walking. The thought make Naya shiver, and she takes longer strides than before. Eventually, she comes to the end of the hall and finds the seam for the door. She uses her shoulder and pushes it open. Light shines into the dark corridors, and her eyes might have been deceiving her, but she thought she saw a shadow before the gate closed.