That morning, I was sent to clean the west wing again, dragging my bucket and cloth like I was carrying a whole building.

Halfway there, I stopped and leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to my chest. My heart was beating too fast, my breath short and sharp.

A maid passing by gave me a side eye.

“Keep moving,” she hissed. “You know the queen’s eyes are everywhere.”

I pushed off the wall, forcing a shaky smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

The hallway spun a little, ...