Chapter 3
1452 Words
The evening meal was served long after sunset.
Like everything given to the slaves, it was barely enough.
A thin vegetable broth.
Stale bread.
Small portions handed out by servants who looked at them with the same indifference one might show livestock.
Elara sat on a wooden bench alongside dozens of other slaves.
Nobody spoke much.
Everyone was too tired.
The day's labor clung to them like a second skin.
Aches.
Exhaustion.
Hunger.
The palace demanded everything from its slaves and gave almost nothing in return.
When the meal ended, bowls were collected.
The slaves began rising from their seats.
Most would return to the slave quarters.
Most would finally be allowed a few hours of rest before dawn arrived and the cycle began again.
But not all of them.
A sharp whistle echoed through the corridor.
Every female slave immediately froze.
The room fell silent.
The older women lowered their eyes.
The younger ones went pale.
Elara felt her stomach tighten.
The summons had come.
Again.
"Female slaves," a guard barked.
"Bathing chambers. Move."
No one argued.
No one delayed.
The women silently obeyed.
The bathing chambers were large enough to hold dozens at once.
Steam filled the air.
Large tubs of heated water had already been prepared.
For once, the guards didn't shout.
For once, nobody was struck for moving too slowly.
That alone was enough to make Elara uneasy.
The women washed.
Hair was brushed.
Faces were cleaned.
Dresses were exchanged for fresher ones.
Not because anyone cared about their comfort.
Not because anyone cared about their dignity.
They were being prepared.
Like livestock before an auction.
Elara deliberately tied her dark hair into a plain knot.
Loose strands framed her face.
She avoided the scented oils some women used.
Years ago, she had learned that drawing attention was dangerous.
The prettier the king found you, the more often he remembered your face.
The more often he remembered your face, the worse your life became.
So Elara made herself forgettable.
Invisible.
For five years it had worked.
She prayed it would continue working.
One by one, the women were gathered into lines.
Shoulders stiff.
Eyes lowered.
Fear hanging heavily in the air.
Nobody spoke as guards escorted them through the palace.
Everyone knew where they were going.
Everyone knew why.
The royal chambers stood at the heart of the palace , fortress of excess within a fortress of power.
Massive doors towered overhead, carved with scenes of conquest. Good bleamed beneath the light of a thousand candles.
It was cruel, sickening contrast to the women standing barefoot before it, trembling in their thin dresses.
The doors open with a heavy thud. The guard ordered them inside.
Elara took her place near the back, shrinking into the shadows. As always. Never too close. Never too noticeable.
The king's chambers was enormous. A roaring fire Burnes within an ornate fireplac, casting long, dancing shadows,
At the centre of of it all, lounging on a throne- like chair, sat King Lodrick.
The ruler of the kingdom. The men every slave feared more than death itself.
The king looked bored.
A goblet of wine rested in one hand, but he set it down. with a clatter that echoed in the silent room.
His gaze swept lazily across the line of women.
He wasn't looking at people.
He was evaluating stock.
Judging quality.
Choosing which toy to break tonight.
The king rose from his seat.
He was a large man, but it was the predatory gleam in his eyes that made Elara's blood blood run cold.
He approached the line of women, his boots clicking softly on the marble floor.
He stopped infront of a first woman, a young girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen
He didn't speak.
He reached out and grabbed the front of her dress.
With a Violent jerk he tore the fabric down, exposing her bare chest.
The girl gasped, tears springing to her eyes, but she didn't dare move.
The king laughed, a low cruel sound. He squeezed he breasts, his fingers digging into her flesh, manipulating her body like dough. He checked her teeth. He grabbed her chin forcing her to look at him, before his hand moved down.
He showed his hand under her dress, his fingers invading her privacy, checking her virginity, checking her tightness, treating her most intimates parts as nothing more than more than commodity to be inspected.
You're tight, he muttered, a smirk twisting his lips." Good"
He moved to the next woman. And the next. Tearing clothes, squeezing flesh, inserting fingers into wet, terrified women without permission, without care, without humanity.
He stopped infront of a young women who was visibly Shakin, her entire body vibrating with terror. She flinched when he reached for her.
The King's eyes lit up. I want her, he announced, his voice loud and clear. He grabbed the woman's chin forcing her to look at his face. I love your link n*****s. They look so sweet when you are scared
The woman whimpered, sound of pure despair.
Take her to the bed, the King ordered casually.
A guard immediately stepped forward, grabbing the woman by the arm and dragging her away. She didn't even try to resist, knowing it was futile.
The king wiped his hands on a nearby silk cloth cloth as if he had touched something dirty, then his eyes moved again, scanning the remaining line like a hawk spotting a mouse.
And her, he said pointing to another woman who had lowered her head, trying to make herself small, trying to disappear.The woman shook her head, a silent plea, tears streaming down down her face.
The king chuckled softly. The sound make Elara's skin crawl, a visceral reaction of disgust and fear.
His gaze continue drifting across the line, searching, hunting. Enjoying the power he held over their lives.
The he pointed once more, "And that one"
Three women. Three lives ruined before the night had even begun.
The chosen slaves looked terrified, their faces masks of horror. One of them began to sob openly, her legs giving way as the guards grabbed her.
The rest of you "the king waved his hand dismissively" are dismissed. Get out of my sight.
Nobody looked back as they were escorted from the room. Nobody wanted to witness what came next. The palace had taught them long ago that some things were safer left unseen.
Back in the slave quarters, sleep came slowly.
The atmosphere felt heavy.
Oppressive.
Every woman was thinking about the same thing.
The three who hadn't returned.
The three who wouldn't return until morning.
Elara lay awake staring at the ceiling.
She had survived another night.
Another selection.
Another close call.
But relief always came with guilt.
Because survival meant someone else had been chosen instead.
Eventually exhaustion dragged her into sleep.
Morning arrived too soon.
The slave quarters stirred before sunrise.
One by one, exhausted women climbed from their blankets.
Then the door opened.
The chosen slaves returned.
Silence immediately filled the room.
Nobody stared.
Nobody spoke.
That was another rule.
Pretend not to notice.
Pretend not to see.
Pretend not to hear.
The women moved slowly.
Their eyes remained fixed on the floor.
One had bruises darkening her wrist.
Another winced with every step.
The youngest looked completely hollow.
As though something inside her had been extinguished during the night.
No one asked questions.
No one offered comfort.
Not because they didn't care.
Because they did.
And caring hurt.
The women quietly returned to their places.
Several moments later, one of them began crying.
Softly.
Silently.
The kind of crying that came from someone who had learned tears changed nothing.
Elara looked away.
A familiar sickness twisted inside her stomach.
The king ruled an entire kingdom.
Yet somehow that wasn't enough power for him.
Every day he demanded obedience.
Every night he demanded more.
And everyone suffered for it.
A whistle echoed through the quarters.
Work was beginning.
The slaves immediately rose.
As Elara joined the crowd, an older woman briefly caught her wrist.
"You should keep doing it."
Elara frowned.
"Doing what?"
The woman glanced around before lowering her voice.
"Making yourself invisible."
Her gaze drifted toward the women who had returned from the king's chambers.
A shadow crossed her face.
"You've lasted five years."
Her grip tightened.
"Don't let him notice you now."
Elara followed the others out of the quarters.
The palace was waking.
Another day of labor awaited.
Another day of survival.
And for the first time in a long while, she found herself longing for night.
For silver eyes.
For impossible promises.
For a place where monsters protected her instead of ruling over her.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD