Chapter 19
1255 Words
The wind that night didn't just blow; it screamed, a jagged, freezing thing that tore through the castle courtyards and rattled the bones of the fortress itself.
Servants scurried like frightened rats through the corridors, heads bowed, lanterns flickering in their trembling hands.Inside his chambers,
Commander Vaelith stood by the window.
He watched the darkness swallow Valdren, his reflection in the glass a ghostly silhouette behind the silver mask that covered the lower half of his face.
A sharp knock broke the silence."
Enter."Captain Kaelen stepped in, saluting briskly.
"The evening reports, Commander."
Vaelith didn't turn.
He didn't even glance at the parchments Kaelen held out.
His voice was low, a rumble that vibrated in the quiet room."
For tonight's supper, have it delivered to my chambers."
Kaelen paused, eyebrow raising slightly. "As usual, sir?
I'll have the kitchen send a guard—""Not as usual.
"Kaelen stopped.
He knew that tone.
It was the tone that preceded orders that made no sense to anyone but the Commander.
"The same slave who brought my meal two nights ago,"
Vaelith said, finally turning.
The silver mask caught the firelight, gleaming cold and hard.
"Elara."Kaelen's eyes widened.
For a moment, the Captain looked like he'd been slapped. "The slave, sir? You want... her?""Elara," Vaelith repeated, his voice flat, leaving no room for argument.
"Bring the tray to her yourself. Tell her it's a direct order from the Commander.
Tell her if she doesn't come, there will be consequences.
"Kaelen swallowed hard. He had served under Vaelith for years.
He had seen the man order executions without blinking, had watched him slaughter enemies in battle with terrifying efficiency.
But this?
This was something else entirely."As you wish, Commander."
The kitchens were a chaotic hell of steam, shouting, and the smell of burning meat.
Elara was scrubbing a pile of greasy plates when the head cook's assistant grabbed her arm."
You. Slave."Elara jerked her arm away, heart pounding. "
Yes?""
The Commander's supper." The man pointed to a silver tray laden with food that looked better than anything Elara had seen in months.
Roasted meats, fresh bread, fruits she couldn't even name. "
You're taking it."Elara froze.
"Me?"Several other servants looked up.
One of them, a older woman with scars on her face, shook her head silently.
Don't ask questions, her eyes warned. Just do it."Why me?"
Elara asked, her voice trembling.
The assistant shrugged, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "
Direct orders from the Commander. Seems you've caught his attention, girl. Again."
The way he said it made Elara's stomach turn.
She knew what happened to slaves who caught the attention of nobles.
She had seen the bruises on the other women.
She had heard the screams in the night.
But refusing wasn't an option.Refusal meant the whip. Refusal meant the dungeons.
Refusal meant becoming another corpse in the castle graveyard.Elara wiped her hands on her ragged dress and picked up the tray.
Her hands were shaking.
"Fine."The guards outside Vaelith's chambers didn't even look at her.
They simply opened the door and stepped aside."
The Commander is waiting," one of them said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Elara's heart hammered against her ribs.
She could feel the weight of the tray in her hands, the warmth of the food seeping through the silver.
She could smell the roasted meat, the herbs, the wine.
Her stomach growled, a painful reminder of the empty pit that was her belly.She entered the room.
It was exactly as she remembered.
The fire burned bright and warm.
Maps covered the table, marked with red ink and strange symbols.
Weapons lined the walls—swords, daggers, things that looked like they were designed for killing, not decoration.
And there he was.Commander Vaelith stood near the hearth, his back to her.
The silver mask gleamed in the firelight, hiding whatever expression lay beneath
.Elara's legs felt like jelly.
She forced herself to walk, to keep her eyes on the floor, to keep her breathing steady.
She set the tray on the table with trembling hands."
Your supper, my lord."Silence.It stretched out, thick and heavy, filling the room like smoke.
Elara kept her gaze fixed on the floor, waiting for the command to leave, waiting for the dismissal, waiting for whatever punishment or humiliation was about to come.
Instead, she heard footsteps.Slow. Deliberate.
Approaching her.Her heart stopped.
She could feel him standing in front of her, could smell the leather of his gloves, the metal of his armor, the faint scent of something else—something clean, like snow and steel.
Then, a gloved hand touched her chin.
Elara stiffened, every muscle in her body tensing.
She wanted to pull away, to run, to scream.
But she couldn't move.
She was frozen, trapped like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf.Vaelith gently, almost tenderly, lifted her face.
Elara's eyes widened.She was looking directly into silver.Not the cold, metallic silver of his mask.
The silver of his eyes. Those strange, mesmerizing eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light.And suddenly, that feeling returned.
That strange, unsettling familiarity.
Like a memory she had buried deep down, a memory of a voice, a touch, a promise made in a different life.For several moments, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled. The wind howled outside.
The world seemed to stop.Then Vaelith asked, his voice soft, almost gentle,
"Have you eaten?"
Elara blinked. "What?""
Have you eaten?" he repeated, his silver eyes searching her face.
Elara's mind raced.
Was this a trick? A test? A game nobles played before they hurt you?"
No, my lord," she whispered.Vaelith glanced at the table, then back at her.
"Sit."Elara's eyes widened further.
"My lord?""Sit and eat."
The words were simple.
Reasonable. But to Elara, they sounded like madness.
She stepped back, shaking her head. "No."The word escaped before she could stop it.
Horror flooded her face. She had just refused a command.
A direct order from the Commander.She dropped to her knees, bowing her head.
"Forgive me, my lord! I didn't mean—please, I—""
Why?" Vaelith's voice cut through her panic
.Elara hesitated. The answer seemed obvious.
"Slaves don't dine with nobles. It's... it's not allowed."
The room fell silent again.
But this time, the silence was different. It wasn't threatening.
It was... sad.Vaelith stared at her. Not with anger.
Not with disgust. But with something that looked like pain.He had seen this before.
He had seen the way the nobles treated their slaves.
He had seen the way the system crushed people, broke them, turned them into things that couldn't even imagine a world where they were treated like human beings.
Five years.
Five years of this hell had taught her exactly where she stood.
At the very bottom. Worthless. Disposable."
You're hungry,"
Vaelith said, his voice low
.Elara didn't answer
. She couldn't."
Sit
."Again, she hesitated.
Every instinct she had screamed that this was wrong.
That she would be punished. That this was a trap.
That nobody, nobody, had ever invited her to share a meal before.Not once in her entire life.
The thought alone felt absurd. Dangerous.
Slowly, uncertainly, she looked at the table.
Then back at the Commander. His silver eyes were still fixed on her, intense, unwavering.And for the first time in many years,
Elara found herself standing before a choice she did not understand.
A choice that could change everything.Or get her killed.She took a shaky breath.
Then, with trembling legs, she slowly, carefully, sat down at the table.
- Writer
