The spy

The next morning, Eleanor moaned sleepily on her bed as she slowly flutter her emerald green eyes to the world.

The girls were gone out of the room already, conceivably to work with the other maids.

Hence, Eleanor unhurriedly sailed out of her bed as she promptly walked toward the window.

Her aching back seemed to be fine, and she could no longer feel the pain anymore —today, she would be going to the traditional session with the king.

For some reason, she couldn't tell if she should be happy that she survived yesterday's onslaught or if she should have just died.

She also couldn't tell if attempting to kill him would have been perfect or absurd!

"All this feels like a dream to me, a bad nightmare which I wish I could just wake up from already," Eleanor murmured, her emerald green eyes staring outside the window.

Her mind trailed off to her dead mother, and then, to Clarkson, her ex-boyfriend who ditched her for her best friend.

"Everything is just messed up!" She groaned, and