The first rays of sunlight spilled into the grand chamber, casting a warm golden glow over the sleeping figure beneath layers of silk. Zaria stirred gently, her long, soft dark brown hair tumbling around her flawless light complexion like waves of chocolate. Her striking blue eyes blinked open slowly, catching the morning light with an ethereal glow.
She was a vision—too beautiful to be real. And yet, behind that angelic face lay a deadly truth: Zaria was not just a princess—she was a warrior, trained, tested, and feared.
Many kings and rulers had fought wars just to win her hand. Their obsession with her beauty forced Zaria to begin covering her face with a thin golden veil whenever she left the palace. Not for modesty, but to prevent kingdoms from falling at her feet.
Suddenly, the large door creaked open. A young maid, barely in her early twenties, entered with trembling hands, holding a silver tray of tea.
"G-Good morning, Princess. Your tea is ready... and your father requests your presence at the breakfast table... within the next thirty minutes," she rushed out in one breath, head bowed low, hands visibly shaking.
Zaria's sharp gaze landed on her. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
"There's no knife to your throat yet you're trembling this much?" Zaria said calmly, her voice smooth but laced with danger. "What will you do if a dagger is aimed at your heart?"
The maid gasped. The teacup rattled on the tray before it crashed to the floor.
She stood frozen, eyes wide with fear, lips trembling, and whispered to herself:
"How can someone this beautiful be so terrifying? Is she truly human? I told Jessi not to send me in here. And now look—my life is flashing before my eyes."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she fell to her knees, trying to gather the broken pieces of the cup.
Zaria tilted her head. "Relax. I won't kill you. You haven't done anything that warrants death. But stop shaking like a scared kitten and go get me the head maid."
The girl turned to run, her lips ready to scream out the door—
"Wait," Zaria called.
The girl froze in place.
"What's your name? Are you new here? Where's my former maid, Jessi?"
"I… I'm Sarah. I just resumed yesterday, Your Highness," she whispered.
Zaria's face softened just slightly. "Oh… alright. You can go. And tell my father I'll be there soon."
Sarah didn't wait for another word. She sprinted out of the chamber like her life depended on it.
Outside the door, she collapsed against the wall, one hand on her chest, the other on her stomach.
"God, I thought I wouldn't make it out alive. I'll make Jessi pay for this—I swear it. Never again!"
Inside, Zaria stood by the window, her veil in hand. The world saw her as a princess of beauty, but few knew the truth: she was forged in battle, raised for war, and born to rule.
And the storm in her eyes... had only just begun to rise.