Meeting With The Enemy (1)

Joe's eyes winded, listening to her vulgarism. Freya closed her eyes and sighed. The more she stayed with that twisted king, the faster she would resemble her older self before becoming the princess.

She appeared poise, haughty and refined in the face of her maids, but the image she worked hard to create was slowly slipping.

"What did you tell them?" she asked, turning to face her maid, who was still shocked.

"I–I told them you are sick, but they insist on talking to you, saying they have an order from the king to serve your majesty. If they didn't see you, then- the king said he would send more maids until you are satisfied, so I told them you'll meet them afternoon," she informed her.

Freya walked back and forth in the little area they were hiding. 'More servants! How come!' Her hands clutched her dress while her heart pounded. Sending more maids meant a high chance of being caught in her disguise. 'What should I do? What in that empty head of the king?'

"I will find a way to return to my chamber. Go and wait for me," she told Joe, who nodded and sneaked away.

Making sure her maid disappeared from her sight, Freya stomped her legs and went to meet the king.

'Today, either me or him!' Standing in front of the king, she gulped.

"So you want to take a leave for the rest of the day?" he asked, glaring at her. Freya nodded. "And why?"

"I–I have an urgent matter I need to solve," she said, clutching her dress.

He leaned on his chair and said, "And may I know what kind of urgent matter you have?"

Freya gazed at him in a daze. 'To solve the mess you created for me,' she thought. Her head refused to elaborate on any useful excuse.

"I guess it is difficult for you to tell me, so my response is no. There is a lot of work to do as the foundation party is nearing, so I do expect a diligent maid who performs seriously," he commented, dropping his head, then began to write gradually.

'You wrench king.'

Freya stormed out, 'Now, I had to find another solution!' Looking at the busy servants while Lucas stood, assisting them. She raised a brow and walked to him. "Lucas, do you need any help?"

"Ah, Felma! No, no! You had to attend to the king. Maybe he will need something," he exclaimed, then shrugged at her.

"His Majesty is working. He will order nothing anytime soon," she said. The king worked from noon to evening without rest or food, so it was a great opportunity to sneak into her quarter.

Lucas nodded and ordered her to help the maids fetch clean sheets, blankets, napkins and curtains for all the bedchambers. Freya held a box and went to the far room on the second floor. The third floor was only for the king, where not anyone could enter as they pleased. The only ones allowed in there were Lucas, Trent, and her.

Getting in, her gaze swept over the room, which was slightly big but full of furniture. A big-sized bed was in the middle, bedside table rested beside it. A sofa and two chairs on the left side of the window board a table whereas a stand stood in front of the wardrobe. She changed the curtain, napkin and bed sheet fast while squeezing the blankets into the wardrobe.

A pink dress caught her attention; she grabbed it and put it with the clothes in the basket. Heading outside, she walked in her quarter's direction.

"Felma, did you finish tidying the room?" Lucas said, staring at the direction she trod.

Freya spun around. "Yes," she forced a smile.

"Help the maids in the laundry," he stated.

She passed him and went in the opposite direction. Many maids washed the clothes; the others brought the water while a few took the clothes to be dried. She sighed, put the scuttle down and helped the others bring water.

Every passing moment passed like torture. Her hands ached from carrying heavy buckets.

"Where is Kaila? I didn't see her this morning?" one maid whispered.

"They arranged her to serve the queen," the other answered.

"What a bad luck."

"I heard Lucas was arranging for more maids to go. I hope I will not be picked—"

As Freya listened, the bucket she carried sank to the floor. She didn't want other maids! The incidents she had gone through the last few days were enough to cause a severe headache.

"What are you doing? You wasted such a big amount of water—"

"I will bring another," Freya said.

Squatting down, she held the bucket, seized the pink dress from earlier and sneaked to the room she tidied earlier. Running to the small spaced washing room, she scrubbed her hair three times till the reddish brown colour faded.

Freya changed into the old-designed pink dress and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Only her blue eyes differed. The potion she had to dip in her eyes worked for a day, so she had no choice but to conceal its effect using a herb named Delp. She kept some with her in case something went wrong.

She chewed the herb. The bitter taste caused her tummy to churn, but she forced herself to swallow it. Soon after, her vision turned blurry. One of the side effects was a blurry sight that can take a long time.

Freya shuffled outside, clutching the wall. Ascending the stairs, nearly stumbling down, hearing footsteps, she hid behind the stairs for a while before the sounds vanished, then stepped out, crashing into someone.

'Great! That's what's left!'

"You! What are you doing here?" a familiar angry sound echoed. The blurry image of the king made her dizzy.

'Oh, no! Out of all the people in the palace, how can she meet the king?'

He tugged her arm and threw her inside a dim storage room, closing the door with a loud bang. "What brought you here? And why are you sneaking around? Did you take my words as air? I told you to lock yourself at your quarter and do not come looking for me."

Freya rubbed her arm. "I did not come looking for you, so do not think highly of yourself," she answered, softening her voice to sound different from Felma's. The anguish she felt as Felma she would return as Freya. The only thing she regretted was not having the chance to witness the king's expression right now.

"Then why are you here? Did you lose your way?" he asked.

Freya kept silent.