85th day of the Season of Growing, year 1025

"Hey! You, girl! Didn't you hear the fifth bell ringing? I thought you were dumb, not deaf!"

That's usually how my day begins, with Sashan screeching into my ear, telling me to get up. She pretends to be mean to me, because she's supposed to be, but if she really were mean, she wouldn't get me up, albeit a little late. She'd let me sleep and grin when she sees me get whipped, since that's the punishment slaves get for oversleeping.

That's the thing. I'm a slave. I really can't remember anything about life before I was forced to become a slave, except for a memory of looking up to a gorgeous, elaborate room and seeing my face laugh back at me, eyes alight with an inner glow. Well, not exactly my face, but she's my exact look-a-like, even though the face is older, so I'm assuming she's my mother. And I've always assumed that I'm the daughter of someone rich, kidnapped by demons or the Fae (which I'll talk about later), and forced to become a slave. Sashan always laughs at me, but I'm not giving up anytime soon.

While we're on the subject of me, my name is Desdella. The only reason I know how to read and write is because I made friends with a new slave who did, but she left. Her name was Isabelle. Weird name, if you ask me. But, going on. She left soon because she was sold to another master. I heard that the master was nice and allowed her to buy her freedom. I'm so jealous, but she deserved it. Isabelle was really nice and innocent and diligent.

But, anyways. I was cleaning out a spare guest room in the mansion of my master, Tyran, and I found this diary dusting away in some corner I probably wouldn't have looked at, except that there were so many dust bunnies there. The only marks were some messy writing that said, "Belongs to Mariya Alivera," and I did my best to copy the writing, and a couple of pages dedicated to how boring her stay was and how she couldn't wait to get back to Alivera Manor with all her make up and silk dresses. Bo-ooooring. So I ripped them out and crossed out the "Mariya Alevera" and wrote Desdella XX over it. I always write "XX" for my last name, since I don't know what it is.


And then, I'm like, "What in Iorwen's name are you talking about, Sasha?" I call her Sasha for her nickname, but she hates it. Which is why I keep on calling her that.

Sashan doesn't even spare a second to glare at me, which is really, really weird. She always glares at me when I call her Sasha.

"The crown prince of the Fae!" she whispers forcefully without batting an eyelash. "You know who."

My eyes widen. In case you're wondering, the Fae rule our country, Clasica, and it's under their rule that any humans peasants have to become slaves or whatever. The thing is, I'm a peasant, so I didn't really like that, except there's not much a single peasant can do against a magical government. Oh, yeah, the Fae are magical.

"What on Clasica is the crown prince doing at Tyran's house!?" I whisper back, so shocked that I've stopped halfway through my rushed-dressing ceremony.

"You think I know? God, what Fae wizard sneaked into your quarters and stole your brain?"

"You know we're not allowed to bad-mouth the Fae!" I hiss. Okay, that was a bit wimpy of me, but hey. I'm a slave. Sashan's not. I can get beaten. Sashan can't.

"You think I care? Get ready, 'less you want to show up in the dining hall in your underclothes and strip for the men!"


Sashan often threatens you with things like that. It's like that's her favorite form of a threat.

Ugh, it's light out. If there's one thing I hate about being a slave, it's being forced to sleep at sundown. Really. Although, it'd probably help me get up earlier, if I didn't waste my time outside at night, staring up at the stars.