The object of your desires?

"Oh great, she's here," George's voice echoed through the halls as I entered the dining room.

As expected, everyone's faces paled when they saw me.

"What is the meaning of this? What did you do to the Royal dress my son made?" The Queen, a pale-skinned woman in her late fifties, spoke.

Oh. This was going to be good.

"I—"

"I adjusted it. Mother," George lied. "It suits her better when it is..." He locked eyes with me, and I snorted. "Torn. Torn at the edges, it's perfect for aesthetics, Mother."

"I have to admit that it looks splendid on her, even if she's a commoner," The owner of the voice looked like she escaped from a magazine; she had her hair tied into a pearl-coated bun and lazy green orbs boring into my soul. "Grab a seat and slam your jaws together; no one is at your beck and call—"

"Aunt," George sighed as I pulled out a chair. "Please do not treat Anastasia that way; this is her first day in the Castle."

"Agreed." The ginger-haired woman offered and dug into her food.

I raised an eyebrow at the dish in front of me. It seemed to be a traditional food of some sort.

"Are you going to eat? Or will you just keep staring at the food?" The Queen's voice almost made me jump.

"She isn't used to our traditional food yet, Mother; she'll lea—"

"It tastes good. Very good. But the beef isn't golden enough and..." it took me a few seconds to realize that everyone had stopped eating, and I shifted in my seat.

The curly-haired woman narrowed her steel-blue eyes at me, and I swallowed thickly.

"You are a commoner, right?" The Queen gestured around with her fork, and I nodded. "So how can you tell the quality of the dish, and why are you holding those utensils like a Royal?"

"But she is a royal—"

"No, she is not George. She is simply the girl you dragged into our home and called your wife from one day to the next." The woman rose from her seat, and everyone scrambled up except the king.

I glanced around and followed suit.

"Now, I will make one thing clear, little girl; I do not know what you are playing at..."

I had no clue either, and the more I thought about it, the harder my head pounded.

This was the first time in nine years since I had been to Keyes, yet for some reason, it felt like a part of me was here, stuck in this palace, and a sense of belonging on the walls.

I shouldn't know how to handle those utensils, yet I could do it effortlessly, almost as if I had been doing it all my—

"Are you with me?!" I flinched and almost fell off my chair, but George caught me before I could fall.

I locked eyes with the Queen, and she marched over to me, her red, flowing regalia trailed after her till she stopped inches from my face.

"Look at the mistake you brought home to be Queen." She shook her head in disgust, and a part of me wanted to scream and pull her matted hair.

I did not want to be Queen or spend another moment in her presence.

I just wanted to take my sister and get out of this kingdom, forget about finding Ian; I was desperate to find the nearest exit out of Keyes.

"The Grandeur festival is starting this month, and since you are the new daughter-in-law, I will give you one chance to fail me," I raised an eyebrow at her choice of words.

Who died and told her I wanted to please her?

"You will be in charge of everything: the design, cooking, and arranging—"

"Hold up, Mother," George objected, "She is new here; she has no clue—"

"If she can eat like a royal, complain about food and meet my gaze, then she can handle anything," The tall, slender woman deadpanned.

"People don't meet your gaze?" I spoke out loud, and she glared at me.

"Handle everything. No mistakes." The older woman spat and exited the dining.

The ginger haired woman trailed after her, and soon, it was only George and I at the table.

"So, How did— hey!" George grunted when he realized I had a bread knife inches to his neck.

"Where is my sister? Tell me right now so I can get out of here!" I seethed. The man winced.

"Look, Goldilocks is fine, and she'll remain fine as long as you—"

"I don't want to do anything! I can't do anything right, and you expect me to do whatever your mother is saying?!" I spat in exasperation and ran my hands through my hair.

A panicked look flashed in his ocean-blue eyes for a few seconds before it disappeared completely.

"Fine," The man's shoulder slacked, "Pass this task and I will give you a clue to find Goldilocks,"

I raised an eyebrow at his audacity.

"You think this is a game, don't you?" My voice was soaked in disbelief.

"Of course not, I would never play games with my wife—"

"A wife you forcefully married and are now keeping captive in your home? Do I look like the object of your desires?" I fumed.

"You transcend that," The certainty in his tone sent shivers down my spine.

"Why should I trust you?" I clenched my jaw and adjusted the dress.

It had begun to itch at the sides.

"Come," George beckoned.

I waited for a few seconds before I followed him down the halls, back to the room I woke up in.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why are we here?"

"That dress must be uncomfortable" The man's broad back was turned to me as he shuffled through various outfits in his wardrope. "I had a cozier one…"

"We are not playing dress-up. Where is my sister?" I gritted out and clenched my fist when he did not respond.

"I just want you to be comfortable—"

"Then give me my sister!" I demanded.

The king of Keyes turned and we locked eyes.

"Here is another dress."

I caught the outfit but stumbled back as vague images popped into my head.

"My apologies," George snatched the dress before it hit the ground. "This dress was not meant for you..."

Then why did it feel like it was?

Why did I have vague memories of wearing the dress?

Why was the scent on the clothes so familiar? And why did it look like it belonged to a teenager?

I had to find out; maybe that dress was a clue to find my sister?

Or perhaps, the answers to the nightmares that have plagued me for the past nine years.

"Who is the owner of the dress?"