THE FORBIDDEN ROOM
814 Words
Iris went back home after that day’s work was over, utterly exhausted and stressed. Heading straight to my papa’s room, I sat beside his bed, took his frail hand in mine, and gently caressed it. He stirred awake, his eyes landing on me, and I watched as a flicker of relief softened his expression.
“Papa, how are you feeling now?” I asked softly.
“I’m in pain,” he replied in a hoarse voice, each word sounding like a struggle.
My heart sank. It hurt to see him like this—weak and dependent. Perhaps if we weren’t so poor, he wouldn’t be in this state. He asked me for water, and I quickly made my way to the kitchen, returning with a cup. He sipped slowly, and once he was done, I carefully helped him lie back down.
“Don’t worry, Papa. I promise I’ll make sure you get better,” I said, my voice firm with determination.
He gave me a faint smile, and though it was weak, it brought comfort to my heart. At least he trusted me. After spending a few more minutes with him, I excused myself to prepare dinner.
I made yam and egg sauce, the only dish I could confidently say I’d mastered. After dishing out Papa’s portion, I took it to his room, sitting with him to ensure he ate, even if it wasn’t much. Once he was settled for the night, I returned to the kitchen to serve myself, but my appetite had vanished. The thought of Papa lying there, barely able to move or speak, left me restless. I needed to act quickly.
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The next day, I woke up at my usual time. As a palace maiden, it was mandatory to arrive at the palace by 7:00 a.m. sharp. The head maid would take thirty minutes to address us, and lateness came with consequences—either a sanction or a deduction in pay. Since my earnings were already meager, I couldn’t afford even the smallest reduction.
Before leaving, I prepared Papa’s bath and cooked his meals for the day. I made an extra portion in case he got hungry while I was away. Though he couldn’t feed himself properly, he always found a way to manage when I wasn’t there to help.
My day at the palace started as usual, with me sweeping the compound. I enjoyed this task more than most because it allowed me to hum my favorite songs without anyone scolding me. There was a peace that came with the solitude of sweeping—a kind of quiet that was rare in the bustling palace. I even felt a pang of pity for the kitchen maids, who never had a moment to themselves.
When I finished, I went to Ma’am Prisca, the head maid, expecting her to assign me my next task. To my surprise, she told me I was done for the day. I could hardly believe it. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to ask her something I’d been curious about for a long time.
“Ma’am Prisca,” I began hesitantly.
“Yes, Iris?” she replied, her tone as sharp as always.
“Why is no one allowed to enter the forbidden room?” I asked, summoning my courage.
She gave me a long, assessing look before speaking. “Why are you asking about that, Iris?”
“I’m just curious,” I admitted. “No one ever goes there, and it’s... mysterious.”
She sighed, as though debating whether to answer. Finally, she relented. “I only know fragments of the story. What I’m about to tell you is what I’ve heard from others—I can’t vouch for its truth.”
I leaned in, eager to catch every word.
“Years ago, there were two princes in the palace,” she began. “Prince Raven and Prince Arthur, who is now the king. When their father, the old king, died, everything descended into chaos. You see, Prince Arthur isn’t the rightful heir—he’s Prince Raven’s stepbrother. I don’t know all the details, but it’s said that Prince Raven murdered their parents. Because of that, he was cast out of the land, forbidden to ever return.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “As for the forbidden room, it has remained locked since the day Prince Raven was banished. No one knows what’s inside.”
“What about the portrait?” I asked, my curiosity growing.
She shook her head. “I’ve been the head maid here for years and have never seen a portrait of Prince Raven,” she said firmly.
“Thank you, Ma’am Prisca,” I said politely, giving her a small nod.
She returned the gesture, and I left to mull over the story. My mind churned with possibilities, and a plan slowly began to take shape.
- Writer
