Chapter 3: The Servants Quarters
1026 Words
I was left with the lady I guessed was head of the servants. She turned sharply, her cloak snapping behind her like a whip.
“Follow me,” she said, walking away. I obeyed quickly, not knowing anyone here. Her back was straight and tall, her shoes clicking on the cold floor echoing through the hallway.
“Listen,” she said suddenly, her voice low, gravelly, scraping on stone.
“There are rules here. Break them, and you disappear.” My stomach twisted. Disappear didn’t sound like being fired.
She stopped, piercing me with her gaze. She lifted one long, pale finger. “Do not bleed.” Another: “Do not run.” A third: “Do not look the King directly in the eyes.” Holding down a fourth finger, she continued: “If a consort speaks to you, answer fast and stay low.”
Her red eyes glowed faintly. “And if you see something you shouldn’t—forget it immediately.”
She didn’t wait for my reply, turning and walking on.
We passed a long hallway with candles flickering in glass lanterns. Every flame bent toward her as if bowing. Low growls echoed from deep down the corridor—animalistic, too large for a dog.
I swallowed hard. She said nothing about the sounds, which made it worse.
Finally, she shoved open a small wooden door.
“Servants’ Quarters.”
The room was dim and cold. Stone walls, two tiny beds, a basin of water, rough towels. A faint smell of old soap.
“You have five minutes,” she said. “Clean up. Someone will fetch you.” Her fingers tapped on the door. “Do not touch what is not yours.”
She left, the door closing with a soft thud louder than a scream.
I exhaled shakily and turned to the basin.
The water was little, half a bowl, but clean. Cold. Real.
Without thinking, I grabbed the cup and drank, gulping before I could stop. The water burned down my throat, too fast, too desperate.
As I dropped the cup, I thought of Beth. Is she okay? Is she safe? I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t lose myself to fear again.
I washed quickly, scrubbing dirt and sweat from my skin, brushing my tangled hair with my fingers. When I lifted my head, the girl staring back at me was human again—almost.
A soft knock startled me. The door opened. A young girl stepped inside—human, about my age, wide brown eyes, braided hair, quick movements.
“There you are!” she whispered, relieved. “The Head Servant told me you’re the new one. I’m Lina. I stay in this bed.” She pointed to the bed near the window. “Come, I’ll show you everything before you die by mistake.”
I blinked. “What?”
She waved her hand quickly. “I don’t mean that! Maybe like that… but I’ll help you.” Her smile was warm, nervous but real.
“Stay close,” she said, leading me out of the room. “Don’t talk too loudly. Something hears too well.”
As we walked through the servants’ corridors, Lina leaned closer. “Here in the palace—the King? Yes, he is terrifying. Don’t look at him. He has three feral hounds that roam the palace at night. You’ve heard of them?” I nodded. “Do not walk aimlessly at night; sometimes the King lets them roam the halls as well.”
My blood froze.
“The King has two consorts in the palace,” Lina continued.
“Consorts? Like wives?” I asked.
“No—the King isn’t married. He just has consorts… like mistresses,” she whispered.
“In this Kingdom, if one of the women ever bears the King’s heir, she becomes the next queen,” she explained. I nodded, finally understanding.
“There is Lady Seraphine—calm, beautiful, soft, but deadly. And Lady Mirabelle…” Lina shivered. “Avoid her at all costs.”
“Why?” I asked.
“She hates new faces, especially pretty ones!”
My heart thumped hard.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Lina whispered instantly. “So keep your head down.”
We turned into a larger corridor, bright and lined with tall glass windows and silver wolf statues. Servants hurried across the floor, footsteps echoing. Some had red eyes, moving too fast. Vampires. Low-level ones—turned, not born, but stronger than humans.
They stared as we passed. Whispers followed. Word of a slave in the palace servant quarters had spread.
Slaves were the lowest—below humans, below turned vampires, below everyone, Lina whispered. There was even a hierarchy among servants.
“She won’t last a week.”
“A slave? In the upper palace?”
Whispers followed me like shadows. I kept my head down. Lina tugged my hand gently. “Come on. Don’t mind them.”
She led me to the servants’ dining hall. Long wooden tables were filled with workers eating in silence. Forks paused mid-air as dozens of eyes turned toward me.
Lina squeezed my arm. “Sit. Eat. Ignore them.”
I sat beside her, heart pounding.
The food wasn’t much—bread, stew, a small cup of watered wine—but it tasted like heaven after days of starvation. People whispered, pointed, sneered, stared. But for the first time since I arrived, my stomach wasn’t empty.
Later, Lina walked me back to the room. “This one is yours,” she said, pointing to the other bed. “Sleep. Tomorrow will be harder.”
The mattress was thin, but compared to dirt and chains, it felt like sinking into clouds. Warm. Safe. Almost comforting.
As I lay down, I heard distant howls, soft footsteps, doors closing.
“Don’t worry—that’s just the hounds,” Lina whispered.
Just? There was nothing “just” about them. Still, exhaustion drowned my fear. The blanket was rough but warm. For the first time in days, my eyes closed peacefully.
Tomorrow, everything would change. Tomorrow, I would enter the royal wing.
- Writer
