The servants often sent querying looks her way. Their hushed whispers and furtive glances chased her throughout the castle. Their eyes would widen in fear as soon as they met hers, and they would scurry away as if chased by a legion of fiery Jinn.

  It was disturbing.

  They were respectful, too respectful to the point of being suffocating.

  One time, while serving her dinner, one maid misplaced some of the cutlery. In her haste to put it back in its place, her hand unintentionally knocked a fork from its place. It clattered to the ground with a loud cling, resonating around the eerily silent room. Daliya had smiled reassuringly at her. No harm done. But the poor girl had cowered and bowed profusely, asking for forgiveness for her mistake.

  Daliya nodded and dismissed the poor girl before she started bowling her eyes out. She didn’t have a clue what the poor girl was babbling about. It was just a fork, for God’s sake! She broke more plates at her part-time job than she could count.

  But all in all, it was rather… peaceful. After that first fiasco in the cavern, she had thought she would spend her remaining life being chased by monsters. He sure made it seem like it was.

  That man… she often found herself wondering where he was. Was he already after his next target?

  Daliya sighed. She took a sip of her cup and grimaced. She was so lost in thought that the tea was cold now. It tasted like ash on her tongue.

  "Your Highness," a squeak sounded to her right.

  Daliya looked at the gawking maid—the only one brave enough to still dare be a couple of feet near her. Since the incident in the garden, the young girl had taken it upon herself to cater to Daliya’s needs. She was there from morning till evening. She had become somewhat of a comforting presence amid all the fearful gazes of the other servants.

  “What?” Daliya cleared her throat. She still couldn’t get used to being called ‘Your Highness.’

  “I–is the tea not to your liking?” the maid, Thuraya, asked, her voice breaking in the middle, making it sound more like a plea than a question.

  Daliya blinked in confusion. When did she say that?

  But Thuraya wasn’t looking at her. Her wide eyes were fixed on her hands, on the teacup cradled in her palms.

  Daliya looked down, then blinked.

  A thin layer of frost extended from her hands and covered the side of the cup in a frozen crystal pattern.

  It appeared that on top of becoming a princess. Somehow, someway, Daliya controlled ice.

  Daliya was terribly wrong.

  It wasn’t the first time she would be wrong. If there were a competition of who made the most wrong decisions in their life, she would not only win first place by a large margin; they would ask her to govern over the whole competition for how much experienced she was in the subject.

  In the days that followed, she came to realize that she didn’t quite control ice—ice controlled her. Her newly found powers would burst at the most inopportune and inconvenient moments.

  Somewhere in the darkest room in the deepest parts of the castle lay a frozen pile of teacup cadavers.

  It was hopeless. At this point, Daliya gave up on ever drinking her tea, which was the only highlight of this whole ordeal.

  She would be having breakfast or lunch when the food would freeze right before she took a bite. It was only by great sheer luck that she didn’t break any of her teeth yet.

  It was frustrating. And utterly humiliating.

  Another concern for her was the weird, almost concerned looks she was getting from the head butler. The old man’s wrinkled face would twist in a frown each time her newfound powers would act out of order. Daliya started to fear that he was suspecting something.

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  Would the assassin’s words turn out to be true? Would her life be forfeited the second the old butler finds out she’s not the real princess?

  She had succeeded in avoiding him and started taking her meals in her room. But for how long?

  A soft clearing of a throat brought her back from her musing. Thuraya stood before her, eyes expecting. Daliya looked at her, patiently waiting for her to speak.

  Her emerald green eyes skipped around the room, landing on—the thankfully not yet— frozen dishes in front of Daliya and then back to her. Her dark brown hair pulled into an elegant knot, with stray strands framing her face. If not for her servant's clothing, Daliya would have mistaken her for a noble lady. Like those she often read about in history books.

  “The head of the knight’s order had requested an audience,” Thuraya said. “Would you like to see him now?”

  “Oh, sure. Let him in.”

  Another man entered the room, a young man with dark brown hair and dark, stern eyes who bellowed his intolerance for nonsense. He stood in front of the door, two other knights behind him. A thin layer of frost covered their dark blue armor. Everyone was adorned in the same shade of blue. Daliya began to think it was an official color of sorts.

  He looked at her, his stern eyes devoid of the fear she had started getting used to seeing in the others’ eyes. It was like a breath of fresh air.

  A chunk of snow dislodged from his brown locks as he bowed. “I beg your pardon for our delay, Your Highness. A sudden blizzard had blocked the path. We came as soon as we could.” His deep voice startled her. It was devoid of any ounce of emotions.

  She stood up and took a step towards them. The other knights shifted on their feet, their pale faces cast downwards, their eyes glancing at her, then away. One of them looked close to bursting into tears.

  She stopped. It seemed he was the only one who didn’t fear her presence.

  He tilted his head towards them, and they both took a few steps back, taking them away from her line of sight. The man nodded his head, bringing Daliya’s attention towards him. She fidgeted under his intense gaze. She felt uncomfortable as if he was seeing through her charade, searching for something.

  “It’s… eh… fine,” She cursed her stutter. She was supposed to be the princess.

  The knight looked at her strangely. He gave a sharp nod and proceeded to give his report. As he kept speaking, Daliya realized that she had involved herself in something much bigger than she could bite.

  The crystal was nowhere to be found.

  What crystal? Was it the one the princess had used?

  They had a lead on the Seer’s whereabouts.

  Who the Seer was was yet another mystery.

  And the most ridiculous of them all: The black legion awaited her orders. What were her next actions?

  Sleep. To close her eyes, sleep, and hopefully awaken from this ridiculous dream.

  Did she never get home and was instead involved in some kind of accident? A car accident, perhaps? Was she in the hospital, and her broken mind had conjured this weird dream as a means of comfort? A coping mechanism?

  She couldn’t tell them that she wasn’t the princess, nor could she ask them obvious questions lest they figure it out. But from what she gathered, she was the crown princess of the Awsanian Empire. She was sent by the emperor, her father, to search for some crystal—Daliya was doubting she would enjoy whatever was in store for her once the emperor found out his daughter had used it to switch their souls— And, for some reason, she was chasing some Seer who was trying her hardest to avoid her.

  For what purpose? Daliya didn’t know, but she couldn’t ask. She just sat there listening to the knight give a detailed report of their findings.

  Daliya looked at the knight, unsure what to say. What orders could she give? More importantly, were they expecting her to lead this black legion? And would she have to fight anyone or anything once this Seer was found? She sure hoped not. She could barely keep herself sane. Picking up a sword that weighed more than all the bags of flour she had ever lifted back in her home world and swinging it around was way beyond her paycheck.

  The knight captain stared back at her. Daliya had to stop herself from fidgeting from how awkward the whole thing was.

  “We need to move fast to catch her before she slithers out of our grasp,” he said, brows knitted in a frown.

  Daliya nodded. “Indeed,” she readily agreed. “We’ll set out as soon as possible.”

  There. She hoped she didn’t make the wrong decision, but from the curt nod he gave her, she thought it was what was expected of her.

  The captain stayed on his knees, unmoving. When he didn’t add anything, Daliya knew he was waiting for her to dismiss him. She cleared her throat, and with an air that she hoped fit a princess, she said, “You’re dismissed.”

  With a bow, he made for the door.

  ‘Right. Where are my manners.’

  She stopped him before he could leave the room and said, her smile creasing the corner of her eyes, “Thank you for your hard work.”

  He stumbled on his feet, his face scrunching up in confusion before he smoothed it into his neutral expression. He bowed deeply and, with a hurried ‘of course, Your Highness,’ left the room.

  Daliya stared after him. She couldn’t help but feel she had committed a faux pas.