Chapter 5: The Rules of Survival
1343 Words
Lyra's POV
The maid's agonizing screams followed us long after she vanished down the corridor.
Each strike of the whip echoed off the high stone walls, vibrating right through the soles of my feet.
Crack!
"Ahhh!"
Crack!
"Please... mercy! Forgive me!"
I flinched, my shoulders drawing inward. It wasn't because I wasn't used to hearing people scream. It was because I was. I had simply forgotten how much it mutilated your soul to listen to it when you were entirely powerless to stop it.
No one else reacted. The servants continued meticulously polishing the marble floors. The guards stood like granite statues. Even the nobles walking through the hall conversed casually, acting as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
As if a young woman wasn't having the flesh ripped from her spine just a few yards away.
This place... it was worse than the slave market. At least there, people openly admitted they were monsters. Here, they hid their cruelty behind pristine uniforms, heavy crowns, and silent compliance.
"Move." The guard shoved me again, his palm flat against my back.
I forced my feet forward. Every single step burned like fire. Fresh blood from my split knees trailed behind me, leaving a messy crimson track on the polished black floor. I noticed several servants quietly staring at the trail. They didn't look at me with pity. They were simply calculating how difficult it would be to scrub my blood out of the stone.
We climbed a massive spiral staircase carved directly into the heart of the mountain. The higher we ascended, the thinner and colder the air became.
Finally, we stopped before a set of enormous double doors made of dark ironwood. A servant hurried forward, pushing them open with a low creak.
The room beyond was larger than the entire communal cabin I had grown up in. It featured dark, wood-paneled walls, a roaring stone fireplace, soaring shelves filled with thousands of books, and weapons displayed like lethal trophies. Everything was immaculate. Everything felt completely lifeless.
"This is the King's study," one guard muttered.
Another seized my arm, dragging me toward the center of the room. "Kneel."
My body was already trembling so violently I could barely balance. Still, I obeyed immediately. The cold stone floor bit deep into my raw, torn knees, making my vision spot with blackness.
Minutes stretched into agonizing silence. No one spoke. No one breathed.
Then, the heavy doors swung open. Every guard in the room instantly snapped to attention, bowing low. "The King."
Kael entered without sparing a single glance to anyone in the room. He walked with a terrifying grace, removing his leather gloves one finger at a time before seating himself behind a massive, dark oak desk.
Only then did his chilling crimson eyes slowly settle on me.
"You bled on my floors," he murmured.
My throat tightened, panic seizing my chest. "I..."
"I don't remember asking you to speak."
The defense died in my mouth. I clamped my lips shut, lowering my gaze.
Kael opened a stack of thick documents, lifting a quill and reading as though I weren't even in the room. The silence stretched painfully, measured only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock and the crackle of the hearth. My knees throbbed in agony. My stomach twisted into tight knots, and my head spun from severe hunger.
Hours seemed to pass. Outside the tall windows, a vicious blizzard battered the glass. No one dismissed me. No one offered a single drop of water. No one acknowledged that I was hovering on the edge of consciousness.
Finally—
"You've been staring at the fireplace."
His voice was calm. Dangerously, deceptively calm.
I swallowed hard, my voice cracking. "I-I'm sorry."
"Why?"
I blinked, momentarily disoriented. "...Your Majesty?"
"Why are you apologizing?"
I stared at the edge of his desk. "I don't know."
"Exactly." He closed the document in front of him with a soft thud. "You slaves apologize for everything."
His expression remained an unreadable mask of stone.
"You apologize when you're beaten. You apologize when you're starving. You apologize when someone else makes a mistake." He stood up, slowly walking around the desk until he stopped directly in front of my kneeling form. "And yet... none of you ever learn."
Without a hint of warning, his heavy boot slammed brutally into my shoulder.
The sheer force of the strike knocked me sideways, sending me skidding across the polished stone. Pain exploded through my ribs, stealing what little air I had left. I gasped, curling into a ball.
"Get up," Kael commanded, looking down at me.
My arms shook like reeds in a storm as I pushed myself off the floor. It took every ounce of my fading willpower, but I managed to drag myself back into a kneeling position.
"You fall too easily," he noted coldly.
"I—" I bit my tongue hard, cutting off the apology before it could slip past my teeth.
A flicker of something dark passed through Kael's eyes. Good. At least I was learning the rules of survival.
He turned his gaze toward the captain of the guards. "Report."
"The northern patrol has returned safely, sire," the captain stated rigidly. "The western border remains secure. The kitchen staff has been disciplined for today's delay, and the maid has received twenty lashes as ordered."
Kael nodded once, indifferent. "Good."
There was no hesitation. No regret. He discussed broken people the exact same way he would discuss broken furniture.
The captain hesitated, shifting his weight slightly before speaking again. "There is one minor matter, Your Majesty..."
"What?"
"The slave. She hasn't eaten since yesterday morning."
The entire room went dead silent. Every servant lowered their heads even further, trying to blend into the shadows. Kael looked back at me, his eyes devoid of concern, calculating my utility like an equation.
"How long can she survive without sustenance?" Kael asked.
The captain frowned, glancing at my shivering form. "A few more days... perhaps. She is remarkably fragile."
Kael turned his back to me. "Then she isn't dying today."
A brief spark of hope ignited in my chest, thinking he might order a plate to be brought up. But his next words extinguished it instantly.
"She eats after the servants," Kael commanded coldly. "Whatever remains in the scraps. Nothing more."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
My stomach clenched painfully. The leftovers of servants. To a wolfless slave, even scraps sounded like a feast, but the humiliation settled deep.
Kael walked toward the heavy ironwood doors. Just before stepping out, he paused. Without turning around to look at me, he delivered a final, chilling sentence that made the temperature in the room plummet.
"If she steals so much as a crumb..."
The air grew so cold I could see my own breath.
"...cut off the hand she uses."
The massive doors closed behind him with a deafening thud.
No one moved. No one dared to breathe. Only after the echo of his heavy footsteps completely faded down the corridor did the captain finally look down at me.
For the first time since I had been dragged into this frozen hell, I saw a flash of genuine pity in someone's eyes. It lasted for less than a second before he masked it, hardening his features.
Because pity had no place in the Blood King's fortress.
And as I stared at the closed doors, my body shivering and my ribs throbbing from his boot, a terrifying realization began to take root in my mind.
In this palace, hope wouldn't just kill you. It would make you watch while you broke.
- Writer
