Chapter 7 Lucy
Lucy
How to avoid consequences: cry strategically and weaponize eyeliner.
“Try not to die stupid!” she had shouted—and then the world had erupted in gold.
The sky above the palace still glowed faintly, the aftershocks of Esther’s magic flickering across the clouds like fading veins of lightning. Lucy watched the last ripple disappear behind the mountains, her stomach dropping with it.
Boom!
A golden lightning strike flashed in the distance, shaking the castle walls. She winced. That definitely wasn’t subtle.
Heavy footsteps thundered toward Esther’s chambers.
Lucy slapped her cheeks, inhaled sharply, and prepared herself.
It was her time to shine.
She straightened her apron, lifted her chin, arranged her expression into something perfectly balanced between tired and annoyed, then stepped directly into their path.
“What’s all the racket?” she demanded, voice sharp with perfectly executed confusion.
The tallest guard lifted his lantern, the light spilling across the hall. “We were tasked with investigating this wing. Including the Princess’s chambers.”
“She is already asleep,” Lucy said immediately. “Her magic lesson today was very draining.”
The shorter guard puffed out his chest. He always looked like a toad trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t a toad. “We must see her with our own eyes for the report.”
Lucy blinked slowly. Then, with the kind of icy calm that could curdle milk, she repeated: “You mean to tell me… you wish to enter the Princess’s chambers. While she is asleep.”
The firelight caught her eyes just right, and both guards instinctively stepped back.
“It is a matter of security!” the short one insisted, voice cracking straight through bravado.
“No,” Lucy hissed, stepping into his space so forcefully he nearly tripped over his own boots.
“It is a matter of respect. I watch her day in and day out. I greet her in the morning and send her off to slumber. I guard her more fiercely than any knight in this entire glittering prison. And you think you can stroll into Princess Esther’s bedroom after I have told you she is asleep? ”
Her voice rose—not theatrically, not intentionally, but with real emotion. Real fear. Real fury. She didn’t need to pretend anymore; her heart had already broken open.
“I wonder,” she said softly, dangerously, “what punishment his majesty will give you when I inform him that low-ranking guards attempted to violate the sleeping Princess’s privacy.”
The taller guard paled. “F-f-forgive us. It is as you say. We will report she is safe in her chambers. Please—please do not speak of this.”
Cowards, she thought. These men, these guards who could stare down armed orcs, trembled at the idea of upsetting a maid. Their armor was nothing more than decoration. They weren’t worthy of serving Esther.
They whimpered before scampering down the hall, boots squeaking on polished marble.
Pathetic. Lucy wanted to spit on the floor after them, but the maid in her wouldn’t allow it. She settled on something better: sneaking into their quarters later to rub peppers into their undergarments during training.
Her knees nearly buckled once they turned the corner. The lantern light from their retreating steps dimmed, leaving the corridor cold and empty. Her breath rushed out in a shaky gust.
She had bought Esther minutes. Maybe hours. No more.
Lucy slipped back into Esther’s room and collapsed onto the enormous bed. The blankets—soft as rose petals, warm as summer—wrapped around her like a memory. Here, there were no roles, no duty, no palace politics. They were simply best friends in the rawest sense.
What was she supposed to do now?
Esther had always been stubborn, sarcastic, quick-witted… but never defiant. Never reckless enough to flee the palace. From the outside, she looked like a porcelain doll on display—quiet, graceful, demure. The perfect curated princess.
But Lucy knew the truth.
Esther was a butterfly encased in amber. Beautiful. Unbreathing.
Dying slowly in stillness.
Watching her live like that ate away at Lucy, and she hated herself for not having enough power to save her.
The guards compared her to a canary in a gilded cage. They were wrong. A canary could at least sing.
Lucy remembered the first time she saw Esther cry—not the polite, quiet tears of a princess, but a full, terrified sob when she accidentally singed her own eyebrows during a lesson. Lucy had marched right up, stolen a pastry off a silver tray, and shoved it into Esther’s hands.
“Eat. Sadness burns calories,” she’d said.
Esther laughed through her tears.
Lucy had been loyal ever since.
Lucy’s gaze drifted to the note on the vanity — the ink barely dry. Esther’s handwriting was messy where the strokes had trembled.
Lucy,
If I die, burn my extra secret books — you know where they are. If I live, I’m bringing back a man. Love you forever.
— Esther
P.S. You’d be a male knight, just to gloat about having the biggest sword. Very important.
Lucy’s throat tightened. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Probably both. Esther always wrote like her emotions were on fire.
If Esther lived, she promised to bring home a man.
If she died… she asked Lucy to burn the smut library.
Lucy chuckled weakly through her tears. It was such an Esther specific worry to have when running away without a plan.
Lucy clutched the letter to her chest, tears prickling her eyes again.
She had introduced Esther to smut in the first place.
The Forbidden Forest had been their downfall.
There was no going back after that. They had since become obsessed with books.
It was the perfect getaway for their loneliest moments.
She curled deeper into the bed. The scent of jasmine oil still clung to the pillows, soft and soothing—a ghost of the girl who had lain here hours ago.
Bang.
The door slammed open.
Lucy jolted, her heart clawing at her ribs. She yanked the blankets over her head, willing herself into the shadows. Moonlight flickered faintly across the floor, too dim to give away her hiding spot.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps creaked closer.
She forced a moan, half-princess, half-actress, hoping to sound like a disgruntled royal rudely awakened.
The steps stopped.
Her breath caught.
“I know it’s you, Lucy.”
The voice cut through the darkness like a blade.
So much for buying Esther more time, Lucy thought.