Under His Command
1078 Words
Elara kept her head lowered as she walked, her steps quick and restrained, clutching the empty tray against her chest as if it could shield her from the eyes she feared to meet.
The corridor was empty.
Still, she didn’t slow down.
Because the images wouldn’t leave her.
They clung to her mind, vivid and merciless.
The women’s naked bodies—confident, unashamed. Their bronzed skin glowing under the dim light.
And him.
The King.
Reclined among them as if the world itself bent to his indulgence.
As if nothing could ever touch him.
But what truly hurt wasn’t what she had seen.
It was why she had been there.
He hadn’t needed her.
He hadn’t called her for service.
He had called her…
Just to watch.
Just to humiliate her.
Her fingers tightened around the tray.
Why her?
The question echoed louder than it should have.
Why her?
The thought hit harder than she expected—sharp, sudden, suffocating.
Her breath faltered.
Elara stopped, pressing her back against the cold stone wall as if she needed something solid to keep herself from unraveling.
This didn’t make sense.
None of it did.
He was a monster.
A ruthless Alpha.
The man she feared more than anything in that castle.
So why…
Why did her chest ache like this?
Stronger than fear.
Deeper.
Warmer.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
“No…” she whispered, her voice fragile, almost breaking.
She wiped it away quickly, almost angrily, as if denying it could erase what she felt.
But it didn’t.
It stayed there.
Burning.
She didn’t understand.
And that was the worst part.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she forced herself to move again.
The warmth of the kitchens wrapped around her the moment she entered.
Firelight flickered.
The scent of fresh bread filled the air.
For a brief moment… she could breathe.
It was the only place in the castle that still felt human.
Mira was there.
Laughing softly as she spoke with a young man Elara had never seen before.
He looked… different.
Lighter.
Untouched.
As if the weight of the castle hadn’t reached him yet.
Mira’s face brightened the moment she saw her.
“Elara!”
That smile—
So genuine it almost hurt to look at.
“Come, I want you to meet someone.”
Elara approached slowly, still feeling as though she hadn’t fully returned to her own body.
“This is Tomas. He works in the outer gardens.”
Tomas inclined his head politely.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His voice was gentle.
No tension.
No hidden threat.
Just… kindness.
“Are you alright?” he asked, studying her face. “You look pale.”
The concern in his voice caught her off guard.
For a second, she didn’t know how to respond.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Just tired.”
A lie.
An obvious one.
But he didn’t push.
“You should rest,” he said simply.
As if it were that easy.
Mira watched her in silence.
She knew.
Elara could see it in her eyes.
But Mira didn’t ask.
Didn’t expose her.
And somehow, that kindness felt heavier than questions.
“If you’d like,” Tomas added, turning to Mira, “I can bring those flowers you love. The white ones near the south wall—they’re starting to bloom.”
Mira’s eyes lit up instantly.
“You would?”
“Of course.”
That easy smile again.
Uncomplicated.
Elara felt something strange tighten in her chest.
Jealousy.
Not of him.
But of Mira’s lightness.
Of the way she could still smile.
Of the way beautiful things still existed for her in that castle.
Elara could no longer remember what it felt like to live without fear.
“I need to go,” she said quietly.
Mira hesitated, her expression softening with concern.
“We’ll talk later,” she said gently.
Elara nodded.
But she didn’t know if she would be able to.
The rest of the day blurred into exhaustion as she worked without pause, without thought, without rest—anything to keep moving, anything to avoid thinking, anything to stay away from him.
But it didn’t matter.
Because even when he wasn’t there, she felt him.
Like a presence pressing against her skin. Watching. Always watching.
At one point, in the inner courtyard, she was certain she saw movement behind a column—a shadow shifting just at the edge of her vision. Her head snapped up instantly, her pulse quickening.
Nothing.
Empty. Still.
You’re imagining things.
She forced herself to look away, to keep working, to keep breathing—but the feeling didn’t leave. It clung to her, quiet and unseen, refusing to fade.
By the time night fell, her body ached with exhaustion, and every step back to her room felt heavier than the last.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a second, letting the silence settle around her.
Finally.
It wrapped around her like something fragile. Almost comforting.
She sat on the edge of the bed, slipping off her shoes with a quiet sigh, and for a brief moment—just a moment—she allowed herself to breathe.
Then came the knock.
Her entire body went rigid.
“Elara?”
Mira’s voice.
Relief flickered in her chest—only to fade just as quickly.
She opened the door.
Mira stood there, hesitant, her expression enough to tell Elara that something was wrong before she even spoke.
“I… received an order” she said softly.
Elara’s stomach tightened.
“You’re to go to the bathhouse.”
Cold spread through her body.
“Now?” she asked, her voice barely steady. “But it’s already night…”
Mira nodded, her gaze apologetic.
“I’m sorry… it’s from the King.”
And just like that, there was no choice.
There never was.
Elara didn’t question.
Because servants didn’t question.
They obeyed—even when fear curled tightly in their chest, even when something deep inside whispered that they shouldn’t go.
She stepped into the corridor alone.
The castle felt different at night.
Darker. Quieter.
But somehow… more dangerous.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked, each one pulling her deeper into his territory, into something she could neither understand nor escape.
And with every step, a single thought grew louder in her mind—
This time…
He didn’t call her to watch.
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