CHAPTER FOUR A GILDED CAGE
878 Words
Omatovia's pov
“Cat caught your tongue?” she asked, her voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t know how to greet?”
I swallowed the knot in my throat, remembering the queen’s harsh lessons.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, bowing my head slightly. “My name is Omatovia. Good day.”
She gave a small approving nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“You may call me Ania,” she said, then corrected herself. “Or rather, Arora. I’m the head of the cooks here. You’ll address me as Arora from now on.”
The weight of the title settled over her like a mantle, and I realized that this woman—though stern—would guide me through the daily rhythm of the palace kitchens and the lives of the maidens.
I took a breath, feeling the first flicker of hope that perhaps, amidst the opulence and strict hierarchy, I might find a place to belong… if only I could learn the rules of this new world.
The distant echo of footsteps reminded me that the palace held secrets far deeper than its walls, and perhaps, somewhere within those corridors, a heart still remembered my name…
I nodded, still trying to process the events of the day. My eyes were swollen from crying, and I could feel the weight of my emotions pressing down on me. Arora’s expression softened slightly as she looked at me, but her tone remained firm.
“There is a lot you need to learn,” she said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Arora sighed, her eyes thoughtful.
“Still so young,” she murmured.
She began explaining the rules of the palace, telling me that I would be working in the kitchen and needed to learn proper etiquette. I nodded along, trying to absorb everything she said, but unease settled in my chest. I was still reeling from the day’s events, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I did not belong here.
Her words faded into a distant hum, and I found myself drifting until she mentioned her title again.
“Okay… chief maid,” I mumbled absentmindedly.
Arora’s expression turned stern.
“I know you’re new here in Nir, considering the strange words you use,” she said. “But we do not use chief maid for the head of the cooks. We use Arora. Understood?”
She was warning me for the second time.
I nodded quickly, embarrassment washing over me. I wanted to learn. I wanted to fit in. But it already felt impossibly hard.
As she continued explaining the rules, discomfort tightened in my stomach.
“Secondly, you don’t greet with ‘good day’ here,” she said. “You say ‘greetings.’”
I nodded again, trying to remember. But when she added the next rule, resentment flared inside me.
“Example: greetings, Alpha,” she stated firmly.
Disgust rolled through me. I would have to call him Alpha?
The thought made me feel sick.
What was he thinking—denying me like that?
Didn’t he remember our past? Our love?
I shook my head quickly, trying to clear the storm of thoughts.
Arora’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, snapping her fingers in front of me.
“Nothing, ma’am,” I replied quickly, forcing innocence into my voice.
She thrust a plain linen dress into my hands.
“Here’s your dress. Put it on immediately and come to the kitchen with me.”
My stomach growled loudly, reminding me how hungry I was.
“Please, Mrs. Arora… I’m very hungry,” I begged softly. “Can I have something to eat first?”
She chuckled, but her eyes stayed firm.
“You must work first. It’s getting dark, and the royal family dines by seven.”
I tried to protest again, but she raised her hand for silence.
“Third rule: maidens leave their rooms when the moon rises and return only after the royals are asleep.”
Cold despair settled over me. I had barely seen any other maidens, and now the night stretched ahead like endless labor.
Her expression softened slightly.
“Go change. There are many things I must teach you.”
I took the dress with trembling hands and slipped into the small adjoining bathroom. The moment the wooden door shut behind me, I pressed my back against it and let the tears fall.
My palm covered my mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. I didn’t want Arora to hear how broken I felt.
I felt so alone in this strange new kingdom.
There was no one I could rely on… except Aryan.
The only familiar face I knew.
But the questions screamed louder inside me:
Why is Aryan hurting me so much?
Why does he push me away?
Why did he deny me in front of everyone?
The memory of his cold eyes—indifferent as marble—cut deeper than any slap.
He watched that lady hand strike my face. And his eyes stayed as cold as the marble beneath my feet.
Aryan would have burned the world for me.
But Lucian…
…he didn’t even blink.
- Writer
