THREE: ISABELLE'S POV

"It is a common tradition, but she's not my bride; you are."

"I am?" I asked with a low chuckle. If this were a dream, I'd like to wake up from it quickly. I lowered my head and rolled my eyes, "How can I be your bride? I am not even Queen," I said. "I think you meant she is," I finished.

He stared at me with amusement flashing all over his face, a smile that looked seductive yet lovely. He had the look of someone in love. I have never been looked at that way, except one time, three years ago, in the dark forest. Finally, he cleared his throat and pulled a chair for me.

"Let's talk over dinner," he offered.

"No," I replied immediately, lowered my gaze and held my hands together, "I dare not," I said.

"Isabelle,"

"I can not go against my Queen. It's-" he breathed loudly and slowly released the chair.

One step, my heart skipped causing me to take action backwards, twice... my breath seized.

"I don't think you understand, Love... or need more confirmation? Perhaps," I could feel his breath as he got closer, and his hands touched my cheek. "You, Isabelle... I own you" he lifted my chin, and my eyes locked in his.

Silence, my ears went quiet, there was no sound whatsoever, and even though his lips said something, I could barely hear.

"I think you're mistaken... I am not-" he cut in.

"Mistaken? I don't think I have ever been mistaken, Isabelle," my brows furrowed, confusion washed through me. What was this man saying? Even a King can be mistaken, and right now, he was that king that was mistaken.

"Hold on," I shook my head, "I mean... that can't happen. It's not possible," I exclaimed.

"Well, I am King, I think it is," he said. I shifted my gaze to him. His pride is disgusting. "Your glaring, Isabelle,"

"I'd never marry you. I'd never betray my mistress," I said, watching him take a seat. He took his goblet, taking a sip. I could see the tiny smirk at the corner of his lips.

"That's not your choice to make. It's mine..." Kyler said as soon as I finished.

My body vibrated at the realisation. I needed to see my mistress. I needed to talk to my queen. Or perhaps I needed to. I gasped when my back hit the door, "Flee," I whispered.

I turned around and pushed the door open. Seventy-five days inside a fancy room was my preparation to marry King Kyler, the dress, milk bath, rose bath, jewellery, expensive materials, and my hair brushed. The meals were all because I was his bride. I blinked my eyes, confused. I had no idea where I was going or where my mistress was. I lifted my dress and headed left when his strong arms gripped my wrist.

"Your Majesty," I looked at the man beside me, but his gaze was on Kyler. He released me, I couldn't wait a second, and I ran through the hallway.

"Where are you going?" I asked myself this question countless times. I just needed to get away, far away from him and his kingdom I couldn't commit such treason.

Even though Lakes didn't exist, I couldn't. I couldn't betray my mistress. My ribs were already aching from my intense breathing while I ran.

I paused, taking a look around the door. I remember that golden door, the entrance door. I continued holding out my dress, I reached further, and my heartbeat increased. I was close, close to leaving this place. I could never marry Kyler.

The door closed, shut against my face. I stopped, gasping for air at the same time staring around. What happened? My mouth shook, and words barely came out.

"Get her," I heard and turned towards the voice. There he was, Kyler, standing confidently by the window. He whispered something to the man beside him before walking away as his men rushed towards me.

"No! No!" I yelled, turned around and began to bang on the door, "Please let me out!" I cried, screaming at the top of my voice, begging whoever had shut the door.

I felt a hand around me before I blacked out. Pain, I had no idea how I had blacked out, but when my eyes opened, I returned to my room. The sizeable fancy room I was locked in and pampered in. Gosh, I hated it more, knowing my mistress should have been here. What would my people say, what would his people say, what would everyone say?

"I see you're up", the familiar voice echoed around the room. I turned in the direction of the voice. Kyler. "You are quite stubborn for a maid," he said.

I remained silent and looked away. Probably staring at the white wood over my head,

"I'd have them change you," he said, got up and headed for the door.

"I need to see my mistress," I said. I stopped. It took a while before turning back to me.

"Whatever you want," he replied. I could sense the coldness in his voice, almost like he didn't care.

"Anything I want?" My voice was soft, I shifted my gaze to him, and his eyes had no emotion, none at all, still, cold, red.

"You are going to be Queen, my Queen, and you can have whatever you want,"

"I want to be free... no!" I whispered, and my voice cracked. I held back the flood of tears, "Let my mistress be Queen," I begged, tears streaking down my cheek.

"You should rest, your-" his brows furrowed, "Your mistress would be here," he said through his gritted teeth.

Kyler continued, heading towards the door. It opened before he could even come close, and once he walked out. The door closed against me again, and my eyes caught the flat ceiling over my head. I covered my eyes with my palm, and wailing was all I could do. Maybe miraculously, he would hear my desperate voice and attend to it.

The door opened, and I looked back at it. My mistress walked in, Queen Victoria. She stood right before the door, hands crossed, her head held high, and her eyes fixed on the ceiling. I never summoned her. I could never summon her. I only wanted to see her.

I pushed the thick duvet away, fell to the floor on my knees, and crawled to her.

"Yo-Y-Your... Ma-jes," I stammered, my lips shaking controllable, my hands vibrating on my knees. She looked down at me.

Her eyes filled with rage, and her lips tightened. But my eyes lowered to her feet. She had rough feet, her skin looked dry, and her clothing, the pink gown, was slightly wet. I felt bitter knowing she was either an enslaved person or a maid while I looked so pampered. Here was her place, and seeing her this way, guilt hovered over my tender heart.

Gazed up at her, "I-I-i..." I swallowed, "I- I deserve to die!" I yelled, bursting out in tears, "I deserve death. Your-" My words didn't leave my mouth when a brutal slap landed on my cheek.

"You whore, I should have killed you when I had the chance," She said. Fear gripped my soul, and shivers ran through my spine. I had never seen her this furious. Her chest went up and down at her intense breathing, and goosebumps covered my skin instantly. I lowered my gaze. "How dare you? How dare you! A low life like you, of course, you deserve death," she said, gripping my hair and pulling me further into the room. "You're sorry? Then die!" My eyes caught her hands raised high in the air with a small pocket knife ready at me.

Of course, death... I'd gladly die at her hand.