A drop of sweat slid down her forehead. Jay sat on the bench, her muscles aching, her breathing still uneven. She grabbed the towel beside her and dragged it across her face, wiping away the evidence of her frustration. Today had been awful—just like every damn day. Pretending was exhausting. She despised the charade, hated the lies she had to live with, all for the sake of a throne she never wanted. But according to her mother, a daughter was never good enough. Jasmine had been born in the wrong body for the legacy she was meant to inherit, and as always, she was the one paying the price.

Her mood soured further as she looked across the training yard. There, chatting in hushed tones, was her personal maid. And who were they talking to? The gardener? Of all people? Jay’s eyes narrowed. What could possibly be so urgent? Was he explaining the mechanics of a lawnmower? Giving them tips on how to water a damn petunia? The sight of them together sent a flare of irritation through her chest, one she couldn’t rationalize. She didn’t want to examine why it bothered her so much, so instead, she turned to the punching bag and took out her frustration the only way she knew how.

With a sharp exhale, Jay stood up and tossed the towel back onto the bench. Her bandaged hands adjusted her sports bra, which felt like a prison against her chest. It constricted her movements, restricted her breathing—just another sacrifice to maintain the illusion. A prince was what they expected, so a prince was what they would get. She had no choice in the matter. No freedom. No escape.

The tension in her shoulders only loosened slightly as she made her way to the showers. Stripping off her sweat-drenched clothes, she let them fall to the cold tile floor before stepping under the stream of hot water. As the heat enveloped her, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her damp hair. The pounding in her skull refused to fade, her thoughts tangled and chaotic.

Her personal maid. She hated how much space that name took up in her head.

Jay had never considered herself the jealous type. Not until her personal maid entered her life. Not until they made her feel things that were beyond her control. That was the worst part of all—Jay was used to being in control. She dictated her own fate, set her own terms. But when it came to them, everything was different. The emotions, the uncertainty, the want—it was all too much.

So much so that she didn’t even hear the door open. She didn’t sense another presence until she turned—and froze. Her personal maid stood in front of her, wide-eyed, looking like they had just walked into something they weren’t supposed to see.

Jay’s heart lurched. Her stomach clenched. Damn it. They weren’t supposed to see her like this. Not like this. Jay’s mask snapped back into place in an instant. Anger—sharp and defensive—rose to the surface, shielding the panic beneath it. “What did I tell you about knocking?” she barked, her voice harsher than intended.

Jay swallowed hard. She was screwed. Her secret wasn’t so secret anymore. She clenched her jaw, shoving down the wave of fear curling at the edges of her thoughts. “What are you doing standing there? Go away!” But they didn’t leave. They didn’t even look away. And that terrified Jay more than anything.