The east dormitory housed the youngest female servants in the pace—girls between eleven and sixteen who were still learning their duties. Natalie's assigned bed was a narrow cot against the far wall, beneath a small window that overlooked one of the inner courtyards. Five other beds were arranged in neat rows, each with a small trunk at its foot for personal belongings.

  "That's yours," said Martha, the head maid who had brought her from Madame Bckwood's office. She pointed to a pin wooden trunk with a simple iron tch. "Uniforms are in there—two for daily wear, one for formal occasions. You'll be responsible for keeping them clean. Laundry day for library staff is Wednesday."

  Natalie nodded, taking in the information along with her new surroundings.

  "The other girls will be back after evening duties, around nine bells," Martha continued. "For now, change into your uniform. I'll take you to meet Master Holloway, the royal librarian."

  Natalie opened the trunk to find neatly folded garments: three gray dresses with white aprons, white caps, thick wool stockings, and a pair of simple bck shoes. The shoes were slightly too rge, but Martha assured her she would "grow into them soon enough."

  Changing quickly, Natalie fumbled with the unfamiliar fastenings of the uniform dress. It was simpler than the blue dress she'd arrived in, but designed to be done up by someone else—a common practice among servants who helped each other dress for efficiency.

  "Here," Martha said, stepping forward to assist with the buttons at the back. "You'll learn to help your roommates, and they'll help you. That's how it works here."

  Once dressed, Natalie followed Martha through a maze of corridors and staircases. The pace seemed designed to separate the servants' paths from those of nobility—narrow back stairs and hidden doorways created a parallel world that wrapped around the grand chambers and formal halls.

  "The library occupies the entire east wing of the second floor," Martha expined as they climbed a narrow spiral staircase. "It connects to the royal family's private study rooms and the schors' quarters. You'll need to learn which areas are restricted and which you're permitted to enter."

  They emerged through a small door concealed behind a tapestry, entering a vast room that took Natalie's breath away. The royal library was more magnificent than anything she had imagined—two stories tall, with walls lined entirely in leather-bound volumes. Ladders on brass rails provided access to the highest shelves. Massive windows allowed daylight to stream across reading tables of polished oak. The smell of paper, leather, and beeswax polish filled the air, reminding her painfully of her father's workshop.

  At one of the tables sat an elderly man with wispy white hair and spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He was so absorbed in the volume before him that he didn't notice their arrival until Martha cleared her throat.

  "Master Holloway," she called. "Your new assistant has arrived."

  The old man looked up, blinking owlishly. "New assistant? Oh! Yes, Madame Bckwood mentioned something..." He peered at Natalie over his spectacles. "Rather small, isn't she?"

  "She's eleven, sir. Natalie Foster, niece of a former pace servant. She can read and write."

  Master Holloway brightened at this. "Can you, girl? Come here, let me see."

  Natalie approached the table and curtseyed as she'd been taught. "Yes, sir. I can read and write."

  He pushed the book he'd been studying toward her. "Read the first paragraph on this page."

  The text was a history of the royal dynasty, written in formal nguage. Natalie read it clearly, pronouncing the difficult names with care, as her father had taught her when they worked on nobleman's genealogies.

  Master Holloway's bushy eyebrows rose. "Well, well. Where did you learn to read so well, child?"

  "My father taught me, sir," she replied truthfully. "He believed everyone should know their letters."

  "A progressive thinker, your father. Very good." He closed the book and stood with surprising spryness for his apparent age. "Library duties are straightforward but require attention to detail. Books must be returned to their exact locations. Dust must be removed daily from the exposed surfaces, weekly from the shelves themselves. Schors leave request notes that must be delivered promptly. Can you remember all that?"

  "Yes, sir," Natalie assured him.

  "Excellent. Martha, I'll take charge of the girl now. Thank you."

  Martha nodded. "Dinner is at six bells in the servants' hall. Don't be te—kitchen staff won't serve stragglers." With that, she disappeared back through the hidden door, leaving Natalie alone with the librarian.

  The remainder of the afternoon passed in a blur of instruction. Master Holloway showed Natalie the cssification system for the thousands of volumes, the log book where all borrowings were recorded, the special handling required for the oldest and most valuable texts. He demonstrated how to dust without disturbing the precise arrangement of manuscripts, how to polish the reading tables without leaving streaks, how to trim mp wicks for the evening readers.

  "You'll work from seven bells to five daily, with one hour for midday meal," he expined. "Sundays are half days—morning only. The royal family often uses the library on Sunday afternoons."

  By the time the dinner bell rang, Natalie's head was swimming with information, but she felt a curious sense of comfort among the books. This, at least, was a world adjacent to the one she had known.

  The servants' hall was intimidating—hundreds of staff at long tables, segregated by department and rank. Natalie found herself directed to a bench with other junior staff members, none of whom seemed interested in the new library assistant. She ate her simple meal—bread, stew, and a small apple—in silence, observing the complex social dynamics around her.

  After dinner, she made her way back to the dormitory, where she finally met her roommates. There were five of them, all serving in different capacities: Lily and Rose were kitchen maids, twins at thirteen who finished each other's sentences; Grace worked in the undry, a sturdy, red-faced girl of fifteen with powerful arms; Rebecca assisted in the stillroom where medicines and preserves were prepared, a quiet fourteen-year-old with a serious demeanor; and Sarah, at sixteen the eldest, who served as a chamber maid to one of the lesser dies-in-waiting.

  "Library assistant?" Sarah repeated when Natalie expined her position. "That's unusual for a new girl. Must be because you can read."

  "Will you see the royal family?" asked Lily—or possibly Rose, Natalie couldn't tell them apart yet.

  "Master Holloway says they sometimes use the library on Sundays," Natalie replied.

  "Not all of them," Grace snorted. "Prince Augustus hasn't picked up a book since his tutoring ended. And Prince Edmond only pretends to read to impress the dies."

  "The Queen enjoys poetry," Rebecca offered quietly. "I've prepared special tisanes for her reading evenings."

  "What about the younger princes?" Natalie asked, trying to sound merely curious.

  Sarah shrugged. "Prince Henry follows Augustus everywhere like a puppy. And the youngest one—Julian, I think?—I've hardly seen him. He's the one born to that maid the old King fancied."

  "His mother was a dy's maid to the Duchess of Westermore," Rebecca corrected. "Not a common housemaid. But yes, he keeps to himself. Cook says he's often forgotten at mealtimes because he's so quiet."

  The conversation soon turned to other pace gossip—which lords were visiting, which dies were seeking husbands, which servants were in trouble with their supervisors. Natalie listened attentively, storing away information that might prove useful, until the bell rang for lights out.

  Lying in her narrow bed that night, surrounded by the soft breathing of the other girls, Natalie felt the full weight of her situation descend. Her mother was dying, perhaps already dead. Her father was gone. Everything familiar had vanished, repced by this strange new world of rigid hierarchies and invisible boundaries. And she was living a lie that, if discovered, could mean imprisonment or worse.

  She clutched the silver locket at her throat and silently repeated her mother's words: One day at a time. Think only about survival. Eventually, exhaustion cimed her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  The next three days established a routine. Natalie rose before dawn with the other girls, washed quickly at the communal basin, and dressed with Sarah's help. After a breakfast of porridge and tea, she made her way to the library, where Master Holloway would already be cataloging recent acquisitions or preparing materials for the schors who would arrive ter.

  She learned quickly, her bookbinder's knowledge of paper and binding serving her well. Master Holloway seemed pleased with her work and rgely left her to her tasks, retreating to his own research once she had proven competent.

  The most difficult part was maintaining her disguise in the dormitory. Changing clothes required strategic timing and creative positioning. Bathing, done once weekly in shared copper tubs, would present an even greater challenge when her turn came. She had already decided she would cim monthly courses had begun—an excuse her mother had suggested might buy her privacy when needed.

  On her fourth day, a Friday, Natalie was high on a dder, carefully dusting a shelf of astronomical texts, when she heard a soft sound from behind a row of shelves—something between a sniffle and a sob. Master Holloway had stepped out to consult with the pace historian, leaving her alone in the vast room.

  Curious, she descended the dder silently and moved toward the sound. In an alcove formed by two tall bookshelves, partially hidden behind a celestial globe, sat a small boy. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his face buried in his arms. Though his clothes were finely made—a blue velvet jacket with silver buttons and cream-colored breeches—they were slightly rumpled, as if he'd been wearing them while hiding in cramped spaces.

  Natalie hesitated. If this was a noble child, she should withdraw immediately. Servants didn't speak to nobility unless addressed first. But something about the boy's solitary misery tugged at her.

  "Are you all right?" she asked softly.

  The boy's head jerked up, revealing a tear-streaked face. He couldn't have been more than nine or ten, with a thin frame and features that seemed too delicate for a boy—not unlike Natalie's own, she realized with an odd sense of recognition. His eyes were an unusual violet-blue, currently wide with surprise and arm.

  "I'm sorry," he stammered, hastily wiping his face with his sleeve. "I didn't think anyone was here."

  "It's just me," Natalie assured him, keeping her distance. "I'm dusting the astronomy section."

  The boy studied her uniform. "You're new. I haven't seen you before."

  "Yes, Your—" She paused, unsure of his rank but assuming nobility from his clothing. "Yes, sir. I started this week."

  A bitter smile twisted the boy's mouth. "You don't know who I am."

  "I apologize if I should," Natalie replied cautiously.

  "No, it's actually... refreshing." He hugged his knees tighter. "I'm Julian."

  The name registered immediately from her roommates' conversation. The youngest prince. The one born to a dy's maid. The one often forgotten.

  Natalie dropped immediately into a deep curtsy. "Your Highness! I beg your pardon for my familiarity."

  Prince Julian winced. "Please don't. I get enough of that from everyone else." He gestured vaguely at the empty space beside him. "You can sit, if you want. Since there's no one here to be scandalized."

  Natalie hesitated, acutely aware of the impropriety. Speaking directly to a royal prince was presumptuous enough. Sitting with one was unthinkable. But the boy looked so lonely, and there was something in his expression that reminded her of her own reflection tely—someone trying very hard to fit into a pce that wasn't designed for them.

  Making perhaps her first truly independent decision in her new life, she sat carefully on the edge of the alcove, maintaining a respectful distance.

  "What's your name?" he asked.

  "Natalie Foster, Your Highness."

  "Are you hiding too, Natalie Foster?"

  The question caught her off guard. "Hiding? No, I'm working. Why would you think I'm hiding?"

  Prince Julian shrugged one shoulder. "You're in the farthest corner of the library, behind the least interesting books in the collection. No one comes to the astronomy section except old schors who smell like mothballs."

  Despite herself, Natalie smiled. "I'm not hiding. But you are?"

  The prince nodded, then gnced toward the main door as if expecting to be discovered. "My brothers," he said simply, as if that expined everything.

  "Ah." Natalie didn't press for details, but her silence seemed to invite confidence.

  "Augustus and Edmond said they'd teach me swordpy," Julian continued after a moment. "But when we got to the training yard, they just..." He trailed off, his thin shoulders hunching.

  "Used you as the target?" Natalie guessed, thinking of the neighborhood boys who had tormented her in her previous life.

  Julian looked up, surprised. "How did you know?"

  "Boys can be cruel," she said, then quickly added, "I mean, I've heard. From my cousins."

  The prince nodded solemnly. "Augustus said I needed to 'toughen up' if I ever wanted to be a proper prince. But I don't think proper princes are supposed to come back with torn clothing and bruises." He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a darkening mark on his forearm. "Father would be disappointed if he knew I couldn't defend myself."

  Natalie felt a fsh of anger on the boy's behalf. "Your brothers are older and bigger. That's not a fair fight."

  "Life isn't fair," Julian replied with a world-weariness that seemed out of pce on his young face. "That's what Mother says."

  They sat in silence for a moment. Natalie knew she should return to her duties before Master Holloway returned, but something kept her rooted to the spot—a strange sense of kinship with this lonely prince.

  "Do you like books?" she asked finally, gesturing to the shelves surrounding them.

  Julian's expression brightened slightly. "Yes. They're quiet. And they don't care who your mother was or whether you can hold a sword properly."

  "My father was a bookbinder," Natalie said, the words slipping out before she could consider them. "He taught me that books hold more power than swords, if you know how to use them."

  "Really?" Julian looked genuinely interested. "How?"

  Natalie thought for a moment, remembering her father's words. "Knowledge," she said finally. "Books contain knowledge, and knowledge is power. A sword can win a single battle, but knowledge can win wars before they even begin."

  The prince considered this, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Do you think I could learn that kind of power? From books?"

  "Absolutely," Natalie said with conviction. "You're already here, aren't you? That's a start."

  Julian seemed about to reply when the sound of the library door opening echoed through the vast room. Natalie jumped to her feet.

  "That will be Master Holloway returning," she whispered urgently. "I should be working."

  The prince nodded, but as she turned to leave, he caught her sleeve.

  "Natalie," he said, her name sounding strange in his formal pace accent. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

  She should discourage this, she knew. Forming any kind of retionship with a member of the royal family was dangerous, particurly given her secret. But the hope in the boy's eyes made refusal impossible.

  "Yes, Your Highness. I work here every day except Sunday afternoons."

  Julian smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his solemn face. "Good. Perhaps you could show me which books contain the most power."

  "I would be honored," she replied, dipping into a quick curtsy before hurrying back to her dder and feather duster.

  As she resumed her work, she caught sight of the prince slipping from his hiding pce and exiting through a small side door she hadn't noticed before—apparently a private entrance for the royal family. Just before he disappeared, he turned and gave her a small, conspiratorial wave.

  Natalie returned to her dusting, her mind racing. She had just had a personal conversation with a prince of the realm—something that could get her dismissed if discovered. Yet she couldn't regret it. There had been something in Julian's lonely defiance that resonated with her own situation. They were both pretending to be something they weren't, both trying to navigate a world that hadn't been designed for them.

  Perhaps, she thought as she carefully cleaned the delicate spine of an illustrated star ats, they could help each other survive.

  And thus began a friendship that would, in time, reshape an empire.