Chapter 11
705 Words
By the time Elara returned from the war room, the sun was already sinking behind the mountains.
Dark clouds still covered the sky.
The storm had never truly left.
It lingered over the kingdom like an omen.
The castle seemed quieter now.
Most of the nobles had retired to their chambers.
The halls were occupied mainly by servants carrying out their final duties of the day.
Elara walked through the corridors with her head lowered.
The encounter in the war room lingered in her thoughts.
Not the king.
Not the generals.
The commander.
She frowned.
It annoyed her that she kept thinking about him.
He was simply another powerful man.
Nothing more.
Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes had lingered on her.
As though he had been studying her.
The thought made her uncomfortable.
She quickened her pace.
The kitchens were still busy when she returned.
Cooks shouted orders.
Servants rushed between tables.
Steam rose from enormous pots hanging above open flames.
The smell of bread filled the room.
The head cook immediately spotted her.
"Took you long enough."
Elara lowered her head.
"My apologies."
The older man grunted.
Then pointed toward a pile of dirty dishes.
"Get to work."
No sympathy.
No concern.
Just work.
Always work.
Elara silently obeyed.
Hours passed.
She scrubbed dishes until her hands ached.
Carried water until her shoulders burned.
Swept floors.
Cleaned tables.
Prepared vegetables for tomorrow.
One task after another.
No pause.
No rest.
No escape.
The work helped.
At least while she was busy, she didn't think.
Didn't remember.
Didn't feel.
But eventually the evening meal arrived.
And with it came something she had hoped to avoid.
The women.
The women chosen by the king.
Three slaves entered the kitchens carrying empty trays.
Their faces looked exhausted.
One had a fading bruise near her wrist.
Another stared blankly ahead.
The third moved like she hadn't slept in days.
Nobody spoke to them.
Nobody ever did.
Everyone understood.
Everyone knew.
Elara looked away.
Her stomach twisted.
For years she had watched these women return.
For years she had pitied them from a distance.
Now she was one of them.
The realization hit harder than she expected.
One of the women glanced toward her.
Their eyes met.
For a brief moment, understanding passed between them.
Nothing needed to be said.
The woman looked away first.
Returning to her work.
The moment was gone.
But Elara couldn't stop thinking about it.
For the first time, she understood the hollow look she had always seen in their eyes.
Later that evening, the slaves gathered for their meal.
A thin stew.
A piece of stale bread.
The same meal they received almost every night.
Elara sat quietly in the corner.
Eating slowly.
Listening to the conversations around her.
Most were discussing the Shadow Legion.
Again.
Apparently several soldiers had been training in the courtyard all afternoon.
The younger women were fascinated.
"They say the commander defeated seven men by himself."
"Seven?"
"I heard it was ten."
Another sighed dramatically.
"I still wish he'd look at me."
Several girls giggled.
Elara rolled her eyes.
The reaction surprised even herself.
One of the younger slaves noticed.
"You don't care about him?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
The girl looked shocked.
"Why not?"
Because powerful men ruin lives.
The words remained trapped inside Elara's head.
Instead she shrugged.
"I have more important things to worry about."
The conversation quickly moved on.
Elara was grateful.
She finished her meal in silence.
Outside, darkness settled over the mountains.
Inside, candles flickered throughout the castle.
Eventually the whistle sounded.
The day's work was finally over.
The slaves returned to their sleeping quarters.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on everyone.
One by one they climbed into bed.
Soon the room grew quiet.
Elara lay on her mattress staring at the ceiling.
Sleep should have come easily.
She was exhausted.
Yet her eyes refused to close.
Because sleeping meant dreaming.
Seeing him again.
Slowly she turned onto her side.
Pulling the rough blanket around herself.
Outside, wind rattled the windows.
Inside, dozens of slaves slept peacefully.
Only Elara remained awake.
Waiting.
Wondering.
And despite everything that had happened...
A small part of her hoped he would be there.
- Writer
