3 Give me one reason.

"That is none of your business,"

"I beg to differ," I retorted, eyes fixed on him.

"Give me the dress," George reached forward and I took a step back.

"First tell me who owns it; a name, anything," My voice was almost desperate, and maybe I was.

I needed answers. Answers he was not giving me.

"I don't owe you anything," The dark-haired man breathed and closed the distance between us.

My breath hitched. "Then let me go, give me my sister, and stop this madness!"

"I am the king, Anastasia, Nobody tells me what to do," He snatched the dress from me and I lost balance, crumbling to the ground with a thud.

It took me a few seconds to register that he had his hands out, ready to help me up.

"People do not bite the hands that feed them, in the same way, I do not accept help from the reason for my distress—"

"I am sorry to interrupt, your royal highnesses," A maid shrieked, falling to the ground. "The Queen, she... she's waiting for you and all the preparations."

"Tell her, I will be there," My gaze remained fixed on George.

I forced myself to stand and George let out his hands to help me but I took a step back.

"It was not my intention to drag it roughly, I —"

"Do not pretend to be something you are not, King" I shot back and followed the maid out of the room.

She stopped walking in front of a pristine kitchen. Every single layer of the large space was adorned with silver and gold, I almost felt unworthy to grace the room.

"Everything has been set for you to start, My Queen," She bowed and turned to leave.

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"W-what?"

"Stop it. Don't address me as Queen, My name is Anastasia,"

"I am sorry my Queen, I cannot do that. You are above me..."

I let out a soft chuckle and rolled my eyes. "No one is above anyone," I informed the brown-haired woman. "Unless you choose to accept it?"

"I accept that I am below you, My life depends on it my queen, please."

"Wrong answer, but leave," I instructed and she scurried out of the room.

Titles were like heavy bricks, the more fear they inflicted, the harder it was to bear.

I hated the concept of titles; of being addressed as Queen or Princess. The Royals and the Nobles were just weaklings hiding behind the brutality of war and life.

I turned to the heap of issues in front of me.

I had no idea how to cook, much less, for a festival.

If Hannah was here, she would know exactly what do to. My sister was special.

I, on the other hand, only knew how to cause trouble.

I pulled out the Royal barrile dish and began to turn it, It had to be turned at a specific angle or the taste of the entire fish would be ruined—

"How do you know you are meant to start with the Barrile dish?"

The husky tone startled me and I dropped the dish, eyes widening to twice their size as the platter broke, stunning me into silence.

"Thank you," I breathed in sarcasm as I locked eyes with the culprit.

The king stood at the door, sharp blue eyes running over my skin, "You did not answer my question."

"I do not owe you anything," I retorted, trying to pick up whatever was left of the fish.

"Hey! Have you gone mad?" George crouched down and held my hands before they could touch the ground, "Royals do not pick a dish that has fallen, and only an insane person would put his hands into broken glass,"

"I am not a Royal, and I'm sure you must have deduced, that I am not sane ei— Ouch!" I winced mid-sentence as a glass shard pierced my finger.

George's eyes flickered before he grabbed my finger, plunging into his mouth.

"Have you gone mad?!" I withdrew immediately and stood up, heard pounding in my chest at his unconventional instincts. "Consent is important! What gave you the right—"

"You were bleeding," He stared at me with wide doe eyes and I almost felt horrible.

It seemed like he genuinely had no clue where he had gone wrong.

"I…" I breathed. " I don't need your help, please leave."

"But, You're bleeding, it will get infected, Infections can kill, please let me help."

"Like I said before. I do not accept help from the same people who inflict pain on me!"

I declared and turned to continue cooking when his words traveled through the room.

"I-I am sorry. Just please let me help you…"

"Why do you want to help me so much?"

His eyes glossed over and a feeling swirled in the pit of my stomach. Why did I care? Why was I worried or curious about the pain that was visible in his eyes?

What secrets did George keep?

"Because My father didn't… He did not accept my help and now—"

"My King!"

We turned to see a dark-haired guard standing at the door.

"We have brought the man and his family in, please come and let us know what to do."

"Take him to the dungeon," George's voice was several pitches stronger and devoid of any emotion,

"Yes, My king." The guard bowed and left.

George started walking away but I caught his sleeve.

He turned and we locked eyes. "You did not finish your sentence,"

"You did not answer my question either."

A small smile grew on my lips at how we somehow had the perfect words to counter each other.

"If I pass this, you will tell me how to find my sister, right?"

George turned fully and took my hands into his; goosebumps ran over my skin. "When you pass this, I will surprise you, Queen of Keyes."

"I am not a Queen, and you sound too certain…" I remarked.

"Because I am the king, Anastasia."

"Is that why you have captured a family? To kill?" I quipped.

"Anastasia…" George began.

"I want to be there," I declared, dropping the spoon that had been in my left hand.

"What?"

"You want me to trust you, right? Then give me one reason to. If you are going to kill that man, I, The Queen, insist to be present for it, "