The eyes on the wall
1211 Words
The palace did not forget.
It pretended to.
That was how it survived.
Mistakes were not erased—they were buried, softened, reshaped into something easier to ignore. But beneath the polished floors and careful silence, they lingered.
Asha felt it.
Not in words.
In absence.
Teren’s absence.
No one said his name.
Not in the kitchens. Not in the corridors. Not in the cramped sleeping quarters where servants whispered about everything and nothing.
It was as if he had never existed.
And that, more than anything, unsettled her.
Asha moved carefully now.
More carefully than before.
She took longer routes. Chose quieter hours. Avoided patterns she had once relied on. Every step was measured, every glance controlled.
Invisible again.
Or so she told herself.
But something had shifted.
She could feel it in the way conversations stopped a second too early. In the way certain guards lingered just a moment longer than necessary.
Not watching her.
Not directly.
But watching.
It began three days after Teren was taken.
Asha was in the eastern corridor, polishing silver trays, when she heard the voice.
Calm.
Measured.
Familiar.
“Another one?”
Lord Varyn.
Asha didn’t react. Her hands continued their slow, steady motion, cloth gliding across the surface of the tray.
But her attention sharpened instantly.
“Not another,” came the reply. “The same incident.”
A different voice. Older. Careful.
“The boy,” Varyn said.
A pause.
Then—
“Yes. He maintains he acted on instinct.”
Asha’s grip tightened slightly on the tray.
Instinct.
“And you believe that?” Varyn asked.
“No.”
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Thoughtful.
“Servants don’t step out of line without reason,” Varyn continued. “Especially not in that hall.”
Asha lowered her gaze further, ensuring her expression remained blank.
“There’s more,” the other man said quietly. “He mentioned something… before he was taken below.”
Asha’s breath slowed.
Careful.
Careful.
“What did he say?” Varyn asked.
Another pause.
Then—
“He said… he thought it would make him important.”
Asha’s chest tightened.
Varyn exhaled softly.
“Ambition in the wrong place.”
“Yes,” the man agreed. “But ambition doesn’t form on its own.”
Asha felt it then.
Sharp.
Precise.
The shift.
They weren’t looking for a mistake anymore.
They were looking for a cause.
“Find out who he spoke to,” Varyn said.
And just like that—
It began.
Asha finished polishing the tray and stood, her movements slow, unhurried.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
She walked away.
Not quickly.
Never quickly.
But her mind was already moving.
Teren had spoken.
Not her name.
But enough.
Enough to create a question.
And questions…
Questions were dangerous.
That night, the lower quarters felt smaller.
Closer.
Like the walls themselves were listening.
Asha sat in the corner, her usual place, her posture relaxed, her expression distant.
But her thoughts were sharp.
Focused.
Who had Teren spoken to?
Who had heard him?
Who might connect the pieces?
She began to trace his movements backward.
The people he talked to.
The places he lingered.
The moments he might have said too much.
One name surfaced quickly.
Lysa.
A laundress.
Older. Observant. The kind of woman who noticed more than she should and spoke less than most.
Teren had liked her.
Trusted her.
Asha remembered the way they had spoken once—quietly, in the corner of the washroom. Close. Familiar.
Too familiar.
Asha’s jaw tightened slightly.
If Teren had told anyone…
It would be her.
And if the palace was asking questions…
They would find her.
Unless—
Asha stood slowly.
There it was.
The choice.
She could do nothing.
Wait.
Hope.
Or—
Act.
The second option came easier.
That worried her.
Lysa worked late.
That made things simpler.
Fewer eyes. Fewer interruptions.
Asha found her in the washroom, just as expected.
Steam filled the air, thick and warm. The sound of water masked smaller noises.
Perfect.
Lysa didn’t notice her at first.
She was focused on her work, scrubbing fabric with practiced rhythm.
“Ash,” she said after a moment, without turning. “You’re out late.”
Asha paused.
Then stepped forward.
“So are you.”
Lysa smiled faintly, still facing away. “Work doesn’t finish itself.”
Asha watched her.
Studied the set of her shoulders. The steadiness of her hands.
No fear.
Not yet.
“You spoke to Teren,” Asha said quietly.
The scrubbing stopped.
Slowly, Lysa turned.
Her expression didn’t change.
But her eyes sharpened.
“I speak to many people,” she replied.
Asha stepped closer.
Just enough.
“He spoke to you before he was taken.”
A pause.
Longer this time.
Lysa held her gaze.
And then—
Very slightly—
She nodded.
Asha’s pulse slowed.
Focused.
“What did he say?” she asked.
Lysa studied her now.
Really studied her.
“Why do you want to know?” she asked softly.
The question hung between them.
Asha didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
Something shifted in Lysa’s expression.
Recognition.
Not of who Asha was.
But of what she might be.
“He said someone helped him,” Lysa said quietly. “Told him where to stand. What to do.”
Asha didn’t move.
“He didn’t know who,” Lysa continued. “Said it was just a girl. Quiet. Smart.”
Asha felt the weight of those words settle over her.
A girl.
Too close.
“Did you tell anyone?” Asha asked.
Lysa hesitated.
And in that hesitation—
Asha had her answer.
“Yes,” Lysa said finally. “Not everything. But enough.”
Asha closed her eyes briefly.
Too late.
When she opened them again, something had changed.
The softness was gone.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
Lysa frowned. “I didn’t know what it meant—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Asha stepped closer.
“Listen to me carefully.”
Her voice was calm.
Steady.
Cold.
“If anyone asks you again… you don’t remember anything.”
Lysa stared at her.
“And if I don’t?” she asked.
Asha didn’t hesitate.
“Then they won’t need to ask you anything at all.”
Silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Lysa’s breath caught slightly.
Not fear.
Not fully.
But understanding.
“You’re involved in this,” she said slowly.
Asha said nothing.
Didn’t confirm.
Didn’t deny.
That was enough.
Lysa looked away first.
“…I won’t say anything,” she murmured.
Asha watched her for a moment longer.
Measuring.
Weighing.
Then she turned and walked away.
But something stayed with her.
Not doubt.
Something else.
Lysa had seen her.
Not her name.
Not her past.
But her.
And that…
That was dangerous.
Later that night, as Asha lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the realization settled in fully.
She had made two mistakes.
The first was Teren.
The second…
Was leaving Lysa alive.
Somewhere in the palace, questions were still being asked.
And now—
There was an answer.
Not a complete one.
Not yet.
But a direction.
And directions…
Led to discoveries.
Asha closed her eyes slowly.
Next time—
She wouldn’t hesitate.
- Writer
