HIS MATE

The Preparations

The entire household buzzes with excitement as preparations for the Prince's party begin. Rose and Jasmine spend hours selecting their dresses, discussing hairstyles, and debating which accessories will make them stand out. Stepmother Laura oversees everything with a stern yet eager expression, ensuring that her daughters will be the belles of the ball.

The Prince's party is themed in the style of an old-fashioned ball. Guests are to arrive in carriages to maintain the authentic feel, and everyone is required to wear elaborate ball gowns and suits. The whole town is abuzz with excitement, as this event promises to be the highlight of the year.

In contrast, I am relegated to the background, tasked with cleaning, mending, and organizing everything they might need. My stepsisters mock me at every opportunity.

"Look at Natasha, so busy with her chores," sneers Rose. "She wouldn’t know what to do at a party like this."

Jasmine giggles. "Imagine her in a fancy dress. She’d probably trip over it."

"Her pale skin would make her look like a ghost under the ballroom lights," Rose adds, laughing.

"And that black hair of hers," Jasmine chimes in, "like a crow’s feathers. How fitting for a servant."

I grit my teeth and continue my work, refusing to let their taunts get to me. The sooner I finish, the sooner I can retreat to my small, quiet room.

Later that evening, as the preparations continue, I overhear a snippet of conversation that catches my attention. Stepmother Laura is holding the invitation, reading it aloud to Rose and Jasmine.

"...and all the eligible young women from the Johnson family are invited to attend," she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

I freeze. All the eligible young women? That includes me. My heart skips a beat. But before I can say anything, Laura's eyes meet mine with a cold, calculating glare.

"Natasha," she barks, "stop dawdling and bring more fabric for Jasmine’s dress!"

I hesitate, wondering if I should speak up. But Laura's look leaves no room for argument. I hurry to fetch the fabric, my mind racing.

Laura turns to her daughters. "Remember, girls, the Prince's invitation was very specific. Only the finest ladies should attend. We can’t let someone like Natasha embarrass us."

Rose and Jasmine nod eagerly, their earlier excitement rekindled. They resume their chatter about the party, blissfully unaware of the silent storm brewing within me.

As I finish my chores that night, I begin to formulate a plan. Attending the party isn’t about meeting the Prince; it’s my chance to escape this prison. I need to be there, not as an invitee, but as their maid. I have to make Laura believe she needs me at the party.

In the past, any time the family attended an event or went out, they locked me up in the attic. It was their way of ensuring I wouldn't escape. And if I ever had to go out, one of the guards, a lecherous man with roaming hands, would always accompany me. I avoided going out unless absolutely forced, dreading his unwelcome advances.

The next morning, as Laura supervises the preparations, I approach her cautiously. "Stepmother," I say, my voice steady and humble, "I’ve been thinking about the party. With all the excitement, Rose and Jasmine will need someone to attend to them. Carry their things, fix their dresses, and make sure they look perfect. I could help with that."

Laura eyes me suspiciously. "And why should I take you, Natasha? You would only embarrass us."

"On the contrary," I reply, keeping my tone even, "having a maid to attend to them will make you look even more affluent. It will show everyone how well you’ve raised your daughters and how important their appearance is. Besides, I’ll be invisible, just there to serve them."

Laura seems to consider this for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she assesses my proposal. "Very well," she says finally. "You will come as their maid. But remember, Natasha, you are there to serve, not to enjoy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Stepmother," I say, bowing my head to hide my relief. Little do they know, this is my opportunity. While they revel in the party, I'll be looking for my chance to slip away and start a new life.

As the day of the party approaches, the household is in a frenzy. Rose and Jasmine preen and fuss over every detail of their appearance. I help them into their elaborate gowns, ensuring every ribbon and lace is in place. My stepsisters continue to mock me as I work.

"Natasha, make sure my dress is perfect," Rose demands. "We can’t have a maid who looks worse than the dust bunnies."

"Yes, and try not to make a mess with your clumsy hands," Jasmine adds, laughing.

I keep my head down and comply, focusing on the task at hand. My plan hinges on getting through this evening without drawing too much attention.

Finally, it’s time for me to get ready. I only have two dresses, both plain and worn. I choose the least tattered one and slip into it, feeling a pang of mortification at my reflection in the mirror. My dress hangs loosely on my thin frame, and I look more like a beggar than a maid. My black hair, though well-combed, contrasts sharply with my pale skin, making me look ghostly.

I take a deep breath, trying to see past the worn fabric and tired eyes. Unbeknownst to me, my sharp features, porcelain skin, and jet-black hair give me an ethereal beauty. If only I could see myself through another’s eyes, I might realize that I look like a siren, captivating and mysterious.

But there’s no time for self-reflection. I focus on the task at hand, determined to use this night as my escape. As I gather the last of the supplies and prepare to leave with the family, I hold onto the hope that this night will be the beginning of my freedom.