AURORA

THE RIDE AWAY

The scent of lavender fields mixed with faint stench of horse sweat. Aurora sat hunched in the back of the rickety carriage, her rough spun dress itching against her skin. she owned _ two threadbare dresses and a wooden comb with a missing tooth.

Her hands trembled , not from the cold wind that swept in through the open carriage slats but from the memory of that morning. The mistress had thrown her out.

Not with words _ no, words would have been too kind. Instead , it was the look for disgust , the snap of fingers , and the two guards who dragged her to the waiting cart.

After being sold out of the silverfang pack at the age of twelve , Aurora has worked for three different mistresses who had given her out for the smallest bag of coins. And now it's all memories and pain lingering in her little heart, and this very one was just as same as the others.

she worked in the countryside manor for three years, scrubbing floors until her knees bled, drawing water until her shoulders ached , serving the spoiled daughter her meals with a smile she didn’t feel. Aurora had learned the way the sun warmed the cobblestone paths , the smell of fresh bread in the early dawn, the laughter of distant farm children she could never join.

Now, all of it was being pulled away like a rug beneath her feet. Her eyes stung, but she blinked hard , refusing to let the tears fall..... until the thought came , uninvited.

" Why didn't my mother speak for me ?"

That question ripped through her chest , raw and sharp. Her mother had stood there_ silent , expression unreadable _ as Aurora's fate was handed to strangers. No protest , no hug , not even a whisper of comfort.

___

The cart jolted, and Aurora bit her lip until she tasted iron. she wanted to ask where they were taking her, but the driver, an older man with a bent back, had barely looked at her since they left.

Soon, the cart came to a stop she wrapped her arms tighter around herself and pressed her forehead to the wooden wall of the cart .

No matter where they tool her, she swore one thing silently to herself.

" I will not break, I will not cry."

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The cart rolled to a stop before a modest but well-kept house in Kingdom Everest. The setting sun bathed the walls in a honey-gold hue, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Aurora stepped down, her bare feet touching the warm cobblestones, and for the first time in a long while, she was not being shoved or cursed at.

A woman stood in the doorway. Madam Shelton—broad-shouldered, with streaks of grey running through her once-dark hair—regarded Aurora with an expression that was neither warm nor cold. She was a woman carved by years, perhaps by loss, her face unreadable except for the lines of age and discipline etched into it.

Behind her stood a tall, lean butler, his posture rigid but eyes softer than expected. He stepped forward and gave a polite bow before taking Aurora’s small bundle of belongings.

That evening, after a simple supper of bread and soup, Madam Shelton called Aurora into her study. A faint scent of dried roses hung in the air, mixing with the sharper smell of parchment and ink.

“There are rules in this house,” Madam Shelton began, her voice low but firm. “You will cook, clean, and run errands. The gardeners will handle the grounds; the butler will direct you when needed. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not leave without permission. And most importantly…” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You will stay away from my son, Addams. He is away now, but when he returns, your paths will not cross. Do I make myself clear?”

Aurora nodded quickly. “Yes, Madam.”

“Good,” Madam Shelton said, leaning back in her chair. “I treated you better than most would a purchased servant. Remember that.”

Days turned into weeks, and to Aurora’s surprise, the household was… comfortable. The butler, a gentle man named Harris, gave her a tour on her first morning, pointing out the storerooms, the kitchen, and the small garden behind the house. Madam Shelton neither overworked her nor barked orders needlessly. For the first time in years, Aurora wore clean dresses, ate full meals, and slept without fear of being woken by shouts.

The only emptiness was the quiet absence of Addams, who, as Harris mentioned one afternoon, was in another town training in archery. But that changed when, one bright morning, hooves clattered on the cobblestones outside. Addams had returned.

Aurora first saw him from the window—tall, dark-haired, with a roguish smile that hinted at trouble. Later that day, Madam Shelton called him into the study, her tone curt.

“You came back at the right time,” she told him. “Miss Lina Johnns is expecting you. The engagement will proceed as planned. I’ve spoken to her father.”

Addams simply smiled in a way that made Aurora’s stomach feel oddly tight, though she told herself it was none of her concern.

Over the following days, their paths inevitably crossed. In the hallway. In the kitchen. By the garden. At first, it was harmless—a smile here, a teasing comment there—but soon his glances lingered, and hers began to respond. He had a way of stepping closer than necessary, of letting his fingers brush hers when handing her something.

One evening, while the sun painted the garden in hues of gold and crimson, he found her tending to a row of flowers.

“You work too hard,” he murmured, stepping into her space.

“I’m not here to rest,” she replied, though her voice had softened.

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And yet… you deserve to.”

Her breath caught. She should have stepped back, but instead, she stayed, drawn to him like a moth to flame. His lips found hers—warm, unhurried, yet dangerously intoxicating. She didn’t even hear the footsteps until the sharp gasp tore through the air.

Madam Shelton stood at the garden’s edge, her face pale with fury.

“Aurora!” she barked, her voice shaking. “After all I’ve done for you… after I clothed you, fed you, gave you work without cruelty—this is how you repay me? You lowly, ungrateful slave! I told you to stay away from my son!”

Aurora stumbled back, tears already pricking her eyes. “Madam, I—”

“Silence!” Madam Shelton’s words cut like glass. “You will suffer for this. Do you think this house was comfortable? Wait until you see the world I send you into. You will learn what it means to be truly powerless.”

Within a day, Aurora was sent away—not to another merchant or common home, but as a gift to Madam Shelton’s dear friend, the King’s favoured concubine. It was said the woman had a fondness for beautiful servants. Aurora didn’t know if this was punishment or something worse. All she knew was that the carriage doors closed behind her, and the road ahead led straight into the heart of the palace of Kingdom Everest.

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