The sun hadn't even breached the horizon when Elara was already hauling water.
Her shoulders screamed in protest, muscles burning under the strain of the heavy buckets, but she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
"The Commander requires additional water for his bath."
The order had come from one of Vaelith's guards, delivered with a blunt, impersonal tone.
No explanation.
No room for negotiation.
Just a command that expected absolute obedience.
Elara lowered her head, her breath hitching in her throat, and obeyed.
By the time she reached the Commander's quarters, her arms felt like they were being pulled from their sockets.
She set the buckets down with a trembling hand and knocked, her voice barely a whisper.
"My lord... your bath water is ready."
The door swung open instantly.
Vaelit
