The Princess's Second Life
Whoever sent it had used the staff as their shield—or perhaps the writer was one of them.
The corridors leading to the back halls smelled faintly of smoke and starch, the lingering traces of laundry, cooking, and scrubbed floors. She had walked these passages as a child, trailing after her nursemaids, but now she felt like an intruder. Servants were not used to seeing their princess wandering these halls alone at night.
She caught sight of two young maids whispering near the laundry doors. When they saw her, they dropped into quick bows, faces paling.
“Princess,” one stammered.