"Wise choice, little one," a guard says gruffly. He ties
your hands behind your back and, and hand on your shoulder, leads you
to the dungeon of your own castle. The cell is one of the larger
ones, with a big window, of course barred, and a little pallet for
sleeping on. It's not much, but it's nicer than some of the other
cells, you know.
"So," the guards says after he locks you in. "What is
your name, girl?"
You could tell him that you are the Princess of Rundra. Or you could
lie to him and say that you are a servant.
You drop your book and stand with your hands in the air.