Garden Of Poison

Music Recommendation: The Myth- Balmorhea

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The wind gently whispered, moving in the deserted corridors of the palace, which led the torches' flames to waver and a few to be put out.

Anastasia could hear her heart beating in her ears. She had never expected to fall under this man's eyes, and it was because if there was any person in this palace that the maids avoided, it was Prince Dante.

Prince Dante was the most handsome out of all the princes, probably because he had inherited some of his features from his mother, Lady Lucretia, who originally wasn't from Versailles. But as good-looking as he was with his black hair that right now moved in front of his face with the wind and his sharp eyes staring at her, she and the other maids feared him. Apart from knowing he had mercilessly killed men and women during wars, it was also known that sometime in the past, he had killed a maid for her negligence.

There was also a rumour attached to him that he was a cursed prince, which was the reason why he wasn't in line for the throne.

Anastasia realised she had been staring at him with most of her hair spread on her face during the fall, and she quickly bowed from where she was sitting on the floor, placing both her hands on the cold marble floor. She hoped she hadn't disrespected him!

"What are you doing roaming the corridors at this hour?" Dante demanded, his voice calm yet intimidating, which weighed on Anastasia.

Anastasia hid the piece of charcoal under her two hands, her heart continuing to beat loudly. At his question, she raised her head and then looked at the shawl that was on the floor.

But something told Anastasia that the prince didn't believe her reason, not to mention she hadn't used actual words. 'It would be easier if I could just talk,' Anastasia thought.

Dante, on the other hand, stared at the maid with slightly narrowed eyes.

He was on his way to the other side of the palace when he decided to go back to his room to fetch his cloak. He hadn't expected to meet anyone at this hour of the night. Before he knew it, he had startled the maid, who fell to the ground quite harshly.

Although a prince by blood, Dante had been treated differently after he turned ten, and it had helped him grow faster in contrast to his other siblings. He stretched his hand towards her, as it was his fault.

Noticing a shadow move towards her on the floor, Anastasia raised her head, and her eyes widened upon seeing the prince's hand in front of her face.

For a moment, Anastasia came to believe that Prince Dante was asking her to reveal what was under her hands, and she began to panic. All she had to do was turn her hand around to reveal her palms and fingers inside, which were black with coal powder. Fear started to trickle down her spine at the thought of getting caught for stealing it and being punished.

Dante noticed the maid trembling, and he doubted it was the night air because, when his eyes fell on her hands, they were pressed tightly on the floor as if in fear. He wasn't ignorant of what people said behind his back about being cursed and unworthy. There had been several occasions in the past where he had experienced people avoiding touching him when he was young.

As much as he ignored it, there were a few times when it got under his skin, like now, when this maid refused to take his hand to stand up.

The kindness in Dante's eyes disappeared, replaced with a glare. He retrieved his hand and returned it to his side and harshly ordered the maid,

"Leave."

Anastasia didn't know a simple word could hold so much anger. She quickly hid the charcoal under the folds of her dress and grabbed her shawl that was on the floor. Bowing at him, she walked backwards until she reached the end of the corridor, and once Prince Dante was out of her sight, she turned and swiftly walked back to her room.

Once she entered her small room, she closed the door and locked it in fear that soon someone would come to execute her for her disobedience.

"He said 'leave'. That wouldn't warrant an execution, would it?" Anastasia questioned herself.

As brave as she was when it came to planning her and her sister's escape, right now she wasn't brave, and the more she thought, the worse her nerves turned unsettled. She hid the charcoal in one of her dresses, wrapping it around to ensure no one would find it, and picked up her mattress before carefully placing the recent sketch underneath it.

Sleep wasn't generous to Anastasia that night, as her little endeavour for a piece of charcoal in the corridor left her anxious.

The following day, Anastasia, who was working with Theresa on cleaning the rails of one of the stairs in one corner of the palace, yawned. The older woman looked around before she whispered,

"Don't tell me you tried to meet your sister last night?" There was no telling with this young one, who liked to push her luck in such things.

"I did not," Anastasia replied softly, with no energy. She said, "I wouldn't do that when you warned me that someone had been executed."

"Oh, thank God. Then what kept you awake? Did you have nightmares? " Theresa asked the young woman. When Anastasia was small, she often had trouble sleeping, while reliving the moment of being torn apart from her parents.

"Is Anna having nightmares?" Charlotte, who was at the bottom of the spiral staircase, climbed up and approached them. She then turned to look at Anastasia and asked, "Do you have dreams about getting scolded by Mr. Gilbert for not finishing work on time? I have dreamt about my hands being chopped, like the sword moves up in the air, and I wake up!"

Theresa and Anastasia shared a quick look with each other because they were worried that Charlotte had heard Anastasia when she spoke a few seconds ago.

"So what did you dream about?" Charlotte turned to Anastasia.

Anastasia moved her hands to reply to Charlotte, 'That my position changed back to the lowest servant, and I was later thrown inside the dungeon.'

Charlotte nodded, "That is definitely something all of us worry about. But Anna, you have been doing so well. You must be one of the few maids whom Mr. Gilbert hasn't scolded. Not that I have known. One day I would like to be the personal maid of the Mother Queen." She was the next one to peek down at the bottom part of the stairs, and she said, "But I have heard only the experienced senior maids are chosen for it."

Anastasia dipped the cloth in the bucket of water and squeezed it before continuing to clean the railing rods. Theresa said to the two young women, "I heard the senior maids discuss this morning that there will be a celebration held for Lady Sophia's birthday. It is going to be grander than last time."

"I thought last time was already grand," Charlotte replied to Theresa.

Anastasia turned to look at Charlotte with a cheeky smile and asked, moving her hands, 'I didn't know you attended the celebration.'

"God, no!" Charlotte replied, waving the cloth in her hand, and whispering, "Like you, I just heard it was lavish. We servants can only hear and see the outer walls, where the celebration takes place. I wonder how exciting it would be to take a peek!"

"Don't even think about it," Theresa said with a pointed look, not wanting the young woman to cause any mischief. She said, "The reason this time it is going to be grander is because princes and princesses from other kingdoms are coming to attend it. The royal family is trying to see if suitable matches can be found for the Blackthorn princes and princesses."

"Oh, a wedding in the near future! How nice," Charlotte turned excited because the celebration didn't mean it was only for the royal family.

During such festive occasions, even though servants weren't allowed to enter the place where the royal family was celebrating, they were given gifts like clothes or shoes for their status and were treated to better food than usual days, which everyone looked forward to.

While they continued to clean the windows of the corridor, Anastasia's ears picked up footsteps coming in their direction, as did the other two maids. Her brown eyes moved to look at who it was, and her eyes widened.

It was Prince Maxwell, the second son of King William, who appeared in the corridor. But he wasn't alone. Next to him walked a beautiful woman in a lilac dress, her dark brown hair combed back and pinned at the side and curled at the ends.

The woman was none other than Anastasia's sister, Marianne.