THE EMPEROR’S DEBT

Would I ever... I stood on the cold bathroom floor, trying to recall the incident that led to what had happened yesterday. "No, it must have been a dream," I mumbled to myself. As much as I tried to pretend that nothing happened, my mind wouldn't budge. The image was still too clear. The cold tiles under my feet, the guards at the door, the thin white gown that was not mine. My hands were shaking even now, hours later. I stood there wondering why I was here in the first place. If it was truly my purpose to serve the Emperor. Lady Suq, my guardian, had only told me that my parents died in a flu outbreak when I was still a baby. The Emperor had pitied me, taken me in, and ordered Lady Suq to care for me and train me for my great purpose - to serve him after I turned eighteen. She told me this story every winter, as if repeating it would make it more true. Whenever I asked about my parents, Lady Suq would say she didn't have much information, that only the Emperor knew the details of my origin. Her eyes would never meet mine when she said it. She would stare at the fire, at the floor, at anything but me. After hearing that, I always looked forward to my eighteenth birthday. I imagined the castle would be full of music and beautiful dresses. I imagined the Emperor would be like a father, kind and old, who would thank me for my loyalty. I was foolish. So foolish it hurts to remember now. Lady Suq had always cared for me as her own daughter. She taught me to read, to sew, to speak properly when nobles visited our small house. She brushed my hair every night and called me her little star. But whenever I brought up my late parents or the Emperor, her mood changed. Her hands would shake. She would suddenly find work to do in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with too much force. A week before my eighteenth birthday, she grew increasingly anxious. She stopped sleeping. I would find her sitting by the window at midnight, staring at the road that led to the capital, her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. The lamp would be burning low beside her. When I asked what was wrong, she said, "I will miss you when you leave for the Emperor's castle, child." Her voice cracked. I would cheer her up, saying, "Don't worry, Lady Suq, I will always visit you. You know I will miss you as much, right?" Then I would embrace her, and I could hear her holding back tears. Her body was stiff in my arms. Now I know those tears were not just for missing me. They were tears of guilt. Two days before my birthday, she started preparing a small parcel. She took a silver ring I had never seen before, wrapped it in cloth, and hid it under my pillow. When I found it, she snatched it away and said it was for later. That night, she made my favorite soup but she didn't eat at all. The night before my birthday, Lady Suq told me the Emperor's guards would come at dawn to take me to the castle to officially begin my service. She sat me down and held my hands. Her palms were sweating. She sternly warned me to be of good behavior and obedient to the Emperor no matter what, that I owed him my life for rescuing me and giving me shelter, food, and clothing. Therefore, I owed him all of myself. She made me repeat it three times. "I owe all of myself to the Emperor." Each time I said it, her grip got tighter. Her nails dug into my skin. I nodded, though something in my chest felt tight and cold, like ice water. That night I asked if I should pack my belongings. She told me not to bother, that I would be provided with more beautiful dresses there. She folded my old clothes herself and put them in a chest, as if she knew I would never wear them again. She kept one small hair ribbon of mine and pressed it to her cheek. I got even more excited hearing about prettier dresses. I did not sleep that night. I stared at the ceiling and counted the hours until dawn, imagining gold hallways and music. On my eighteenth birthday, I was taken to the Emperor's castle. Two guards in black armor came before the sun was fully up. They did not knock. Lady Suq opened the door before they could. She did not hug me this time. Her eyes were red and swollen. She looked like she had not slept for days. She pressed a small silver ring into my palm and whispered so only I could hear, "Whatever he asks, remember who you are. That ring was your mother's. Do not let him take it." I thought she meant I should be obedient. I was wrong. The journey to the castle was silent and long. The road was muddy. When we arrived, the castle was colder than I imagined, all grey stone and high windows that never opened. Inside, women I had never seen before took me without a word. They bathed me, scrubbed my skin until it was red, oiled my hair, and dressed me in a thin white gown that was not mine. It was too light, and I could feel the cold air through it. I could see the shape of my legs through the fabric. They left me alone in a room that smelled of incense and old wine. The bed was too large for one person. The curtains were already drawn. A single lamp burned on a low table. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited, clutching the silver ring so hard it left a mark on my palm. Then the door opened. The Emperor was not old as I had pictured. He was young, maybe thirty, and handsome in a way that made my stomach turn with fear. He wore a burgundy robe, and he looked at me the way a man looks at something he has already paid for and is about to unwrap. "You've grown well, little one," he said, his voice soft. "Lady Suq did her job. I've waited for this day for a very long time. Do you know how long I've waited? Eighteen years." My knees were shaking so hard I thought I would fall. He walked closer, slowly, like he was enjoying my fear. He lifted my chin with one finger. His ring was cold against my skin. "Do you know why I saved you that winter?" he asked. "Eighteen years ago, I told Lady Suq to bring me a child who owed me everything. A child who would never say no." I couldn't answer. I couldn't breathe. He smiled. It was not a kind smile. "Because untouched things are rare in this palace. And I have always hated sharing." He leaned down. The curtains swayed even though there was no wind. The lamp flickered. Lady Suq's silver ring cut into my palm, and I held on to it like it was the only thing that could keep me from disappearing. The lamp went out. What happened after the darkness came — whether he truly took my innocence that night, or whether he left me with it for a crueler game later — even I am still too afraid to remember. All I know is that when morning came, the white gown was no longer white, and the silver ring was still clenched in my fist, the only thing that proved I was still me.