The same maids who brought the tea lead her to a set of rooms on the far side of the castle. 

"A private wing near the gardens," Father Gavric had said, "So you can rest and process this in peace." Sara had barely reacted, simply nodding and following the older woman numbly, not even listening as they made small talk among themselves. He was right that it was private, she hadn’t seen another soul on the whole trek over. It was clean, clearly well maintained, but it reminded her of the sterile hospital room her grandfather had spent his last weeks in. Sara shivered at the memory, shaking the ghost of it away.

“Are you cold Miss Sara?” One of the maids - Marion, if Sara remember correctly - asked. She eyed Sara's shorts disdainfully.

“I’m fine,” she said, but Marion was already off. She grabbed Sara's wrist, dragging her the last leg of the walk and practically shoving her into through a set of heavy double doors. The other maid - Celia - followed at a more sedated pace, but still firmly pushed her onto one of the couches before Sara could even start to look around her new room. Marion had already moved on, sorting through a wardrobe with golden embellishment. She pulled out dress after dress, setting them over a screen next to it.

"Don't fret, I'm sure we can find some clothes that will fit you!" Marion said, "Though it may be a bit of a squeeze... The late queen was a bit smaller than you when she stayed here." Sara's shoulder's jumped. She did not want to wear a dead woman's clothes.

"There's really no need—"

"Nonsense!" Marion cut her off, finally seeming to settle on a delicate cream gown. "Celia, run a bath. She'll need to bathe before I dress her for the night. You'll just have to eat here tonight, alright? We'll finish showing you around the wing tomorrow." 

Don't I get a say in this? Sara wanted to asked, but Celia had already bowed to her and left through a side door. Marion had put away the other dresses she had pulled out, practically skipping back to Sara's side to present the gown she had selected. 

"Isn't it lovely?" She asked, holding it out for Sara to see.

"It's beautiful," Sara said, and she wasn't lying. The dress was a thin, silk-like material with a tiered skirt. The sleeves were long and fitted, meeting the bodice to form a deep square neckline. It was also still a dead woman's dress - probably her nightgown! Sara didn't want to wear it! "Isn't it inappropriate for me to wear though?" She said instead, trying desperately not to be rude. "It being a queen's dress and all."

Marion just grin. "No no, we've been instructed to use anything in here to make you comfortable. It's all yours now!" 

"Yay," Sara said, fighting back her tears. No way out of it then. 

"Now, let's get you out of those old rag!" Marion barreled on, "Celia will have that bath ready any minute!" She was already grabbing Sara's cardigan.

"Wait—!"

"Uhhh." Sara fell back on the huge canopy bed with an groan. Her skin was scrubbed raw, her hair full of lavender scented oils, and she was now dressed in the secondhand nightgown. It was tight around her chest and hips, pinching her weirdly. If not for the threat of Marion barging back in, she would have already taken it off. After her embarrassing bath, where she was stripped and washed by the two maids, she had barely managed to convince the women to leave her alone while they got her dinner, with Marion promising that they would be back quickly. There was no telling how quick 'quickly' would be, no way to tell time at all, actually. I wish I had my phone... She thought.

Sara shot up. "My phone!" 

She rolled off the bed, stumbling barefoot through the archway between the sleeping area and the sitting area of the room. She whipped her head around desperately, eyes glancing over the couches, tables, and screen to find her old clothes. There, on a table near the door, her pink tank top caught her eye. She sighed, her shoulder slumping.

"Thank god," she muttered, walking over to it. Her shorts, cardigan, and even her underwear were there, though her shoes seemed to have been hidden. She snatched her bra up first, glowering at it as if it had betrayed her. She refused to lose the expansive garment, determined to hide it before Marion could toss it. Focusing again, she dug through her pants pockets for her phone. She found it easily, pulling it out of her back pocket in victory.

Her victory was short lived.

Sara nearly cried at the state of it. The screen was shattered. Destroyed. She still pressed the power button.

"Please please please," she begged, "Just turn on." Her prayers seemed to work, the screen flickered on. Glitching, with colorful lines obscuring the screen, but she could just make out the signal and charge. Nothing, no cell service, no internet, not even any data or anything SOS option. With a shattered screen and 3% charge, her phone might as well have been a brick. Worse then a brick actually, since it wasn't even heavy enough to be used as weapon.

So whatever vague plan she could have used her phone for was a bust. At least she had confirmed she was in another world, or at least somewhere without signal. Sara sighed, dropping the phone back on the pile of clothes. Plan b then, she thought to herself, explore. She quickly shoved her bra under the sofa cushion, silently promising to hide it better later. 

The sitting area was bigger than sleeping one, despite the size of the bed. Tall bookshelves lined a far corner, between the bathroom door and the entrance, with the wardrobe and dressing screen on the other side. A fancy white stone fireplace sat on the opposite wall, with one of the couches back to it. The fireplace was spotless, as if it hadn't been used in years.

Sara walked to the double doors, inspecting them. No visible locks, which was strange. She creaked one open, sticking her head out. 

"Miss?" A man with heavy armer and a large spear asked, "Is everything alright?" Another in matching armor stood on the other side of the door. She jumped, heart racing as she realized that these were guards.

"Sorry," she said quicky, "Just looking around." The guard smiled, nodded at her as she quickly shut the door. At least that explained the lack of locks... Sara hurried to the sleeping area, trying to ignore the fact that there was just two strange men standing outside her room from now on.

She pressed her hand against the tall window that spanned most of the back wall. Her room overlooked a large, walled in garden, filled with flowering shrubs and trees, all in full bloom. She couldn't make out any of the colors due to nearly set sun painting it all shades of purple, but with all the different shapes and sizes, she could only assume how beautiful it must look in the afternoon. It must be spring or summer here, she thought. For a kingdom desperate enough to summon a hero, the garden at least seems to be thriving. Sara couldn't claim to know much about magic, gardening or running a kingdom, but it seemed like waste of effort to her, to maintain something like that in an empty wing.

A knock rang out from the entrance, cutting off her thoughts. 

"Miss Sara," Marion called out as she pushed the doors open. "We're back!" She and Celia pushed a small cart in. Sara walked back over as the maids began to unload small dishes and a tea set onto the coffee table. She nearly drooled as her eyes darted over the spread. Meat, vegetable, fruit, even a few deserts. Each more beautiful then the last and all of it smelling like heaven. 

Sara's stomach growled.

"The kitchens made a little bit of everything," Celia said in her soft, wispy voice. "And a pot of honey thistle tea to help you sleep."

"Thank you," Sara said, sitting down. Her hands hovered over the plates, unsure of what to eat first. 

"Eat what you like, we'll take the rest back," Marion added.

Sara nodded, settling on one of the meat dishes. A stew, she believed. She sat on the couch, spooning some of the broth up. It was rich and warm, the perfect balance between the sharp aromatics and creamy base. She hadn't had anything so good since she lived with her grandparents. She had nearly forgotten what a good meal tasted like.

"Thank you," she said again, eating more. If she blinked back a tear or two, knowing she wouldn't wake up tonight to the painful gnawing in her stomach that she had grown accustomed, no one else had to know.