My mystery queen

Only way out

He stopped for a second, his wrist caught in my grip, as his gaze trailed from a trembling Estelle to me. The moon's silvery light bathed us in its glow, casting sharp shadows across our faces. The night air was thick with tension, the scent of damp earth clinging to the breeze. In the stillness, the only sound was the slight rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

"What insolence," he growled, yanking his hand from my hold with a violent jerk. His eyes flashed with barely restrained fury, his breath coming in shallow, angry bursts.

How dare a mere slave touch me? His gaze, burning with indignation, drilled into me, making it clear that this was a line I had crossed. I tilted my head, fighting the urge to laugh, wondering if he would be more upset at my audacity or the lie I was about to tell.

"Forgive me, sir. I only came to pass a message," I said, my voice deceptively calm, though my mind raced for an excuse. His eyes narrowed, suspicion etched into every line of his face.

"It better be worth this behavior," he snarled, his voice low, as if he were barely restraining himself from striking me where I stood.

"I am afraid to inform you that your room is on fire!" I blurted out, my heart leaping into my throat the moment the words left my lips. There was no going back now.

"Fire!" Both he and Estelle exclaimed in unison, their voices sharp with disbelief.

"Yes, sir," I stammered, doubling down on the lie, my pulse pounding in my ears. "The ginger-haired woman told me to inform you." I could barely keep the tremor from my voice.

"Ginger-haired woman?" His face twisted in confusion.

"I mean, mistress!" I corrected quickly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. His eyes locked onto mine, as if trying to pry the truth from me with his gaze alone.

"The house is a mess, we’ve been trying to put it out, sir," I added, scrambling to give the lie more weight. He stared at me for a hard ten seconds, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing moment. My palms were damp, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if he could hear the frantic beating of my heart.

"If you lie... I will make sure you never speak again," he warned, his tone icy, sending a shiver down my spine. He meant it.

I forced a smile, masking the fear that was clawing at me from the inside. "The more you stand here and speak, the more time you waste. You might not be able to save those coats that cost a fortune. Ehmm, the green one— isn’t that your favorite?" I added casually, hoping the reminder of his prized possessions would spur him into action.

His eyes widened in surprise. I could see the gears turning in his head. Of course, it was in the book. He was so fond of those green coats, he’d probably sell his own daughter for one.

Without another word, he spun on his heels and hurried away, leaving both Estelle and me behind. The tension in the air eased slightly as his footsteps faded into the distance.

I helped Estelle to her feet, her body still shaking from the earlier encounter. "A fire, we must help," she said, her voice trembling with concern, as she made to rush after him.

I caught her wrist before she could go any further. "No need," I said softly.

She frowned at me, confusion written all over her pale face. "What is wrong?"

I couldn’t help the small, mocking smile that crept across my lips. "Master will ensure I never speak again," I repeated, this time with a sharp edge of sarcasm.

Her eyes widened in realization, and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "You lied," she whispered, disbelief coloring her tone.

I rolled my eyes at her naivety, the sheer innocence of her reaction grating on me. There was something about Estelle that always made my skin crawl, something too pure, too perfect. "Big deal," I muttered. "Why did you just stand there and let that man harass you?"

Her blank stare was frustrating. She didn’t understand, didn’t fight back. "Amaris, you speak strangely," she replied, her voice soft, almost as if she pitied me.

"Why didn’t you fight back?" I asked, calmer this time, hoping to make her see the world for what it really was.

"What would fighting achieve?" she asked quietly. "And how can I bite the same hand that feeds me?" Her voice was gentle, resigned, like she had accepted her fate long ago.

I scoffed at her words, unable to believe how utterly broken she was. "Feeding you leftovers is what you're grateful for?" My voice rose in disbelief, but she didn’t flinch.

"Amaris, you speak as though you are ignorant of the rules of the house," she replied, her tone a soft reminder of my own place here.

I clenched my fists. "It's Amira!" I corrected her harshly, glaring at her blank expression. How could she not see how pathetic this all was? "I stay under a roof, not out in the sun and rain," she continued, her voice now heavy with emotion. "I wasn’t bought by a brothel and forced to pleasure men. I don’t travel long distances, with no break, in search of someone who would see a blind girl fit to buy," she added, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

That stung. I had no response to that. The fire in her voice was new, but it faded as quickly as it had come. "That is what I’m grateful for," she finished with a sniff, wiping her tears on the back of her sleeve.

"And what makes here any different from the world out there?" I asked, my voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "You’re flogged half to death over the smallest matter, you’re given scraps to eat, and you’re not far from men who want your body. It’s the same, Estelle. Just a different location." I snickered bitterly, but she only stared at me with that same sad expression.

"And what do you suggest people like us do?" she asked, her voice resigned once more. "People like me have no hope, no purpose, other than to serve."

I wanted to scream, to shake her and make her see. Instead, I laughed darkly. "Why are you like this?" I asked suddenly, unable to stop the question from spilling out. "All goody two-shoes, innocent, pathetic. People like you always end up doing the worst things."

She was taken aback by my words, her mouth opening and closing as she processed them. Finally, she found her voice. "Are they questions or accusations?" she asked, her tone surprisingly steady. "You speak as though you only know betrayal. But I assure you, just as there are wolves in sheep’s clothing, there are also real sheep," she said with a soft smile before turning away.

I watched her go, my heart a strange mix of anger and confusion. She reminded me of Dahlia, with her dark hair and meek demeanor. I hated it. Estelle, Dahlia—they were all the same. Pretending to be innocent while secretly taking what wasn’t theirs.

The realization hit me suddenly, and a smile curled on my lips. "Steal," I muttered to myself. That was the common thread. Estelle stole the king, Dahlia stole Jason from me, and I—I stole that damned necklace. To go home, I had to return everything to its rightful owner.

"I can’t give back the necklace," I whispered, clutching it tightly around my neck. "Then I have to return the king to Clarissa. To leave this book, I have to make the king marry Clarissa." I smiled at the thought. Yes, that was the way out. The only way.

************************************

Life without a golden spoon is horrible. Tell me why I have to wash everyone’s clothes. I pulled the wet fabric from the bucket, water splashing all over my dress.

"f**k!" I screamed, dropping the heavy garment back into the soapy water, my frustration bubbling over. All around me, others worked in silence, heads down. The only thing that greeted my outburst was a few confused looks.

"Are you fine, Amaris?" Rose asked, rushing to my side.

I rolled my eyes, glaring. "It’s Amira" I snapped, not caring to explain further.