Ailah watched out the small carriage window as it made its way through a forested track. The sun began to set and a soft orange glow shone through the canopy.
Well, this is it. She thought. Her stomach turned with every bump underneath the wheels, bringing back reality and reminding her she had been bought. Employed, at last! Out of the Labour Market. And only the gods knew what awaited her at her final destination.
Wherever I end up, this will be my life. I'm not going back there!
Ailah's chest tightened. With new opportunities came new fears.
Breathe Ailah, breathe. It may not be so bad.
"Problems, miss?"
The man in the hat who had picked her. He sat on the bench facing Ailah. His face was clean-shaved, and he wore fine clothes. His expression was unexpectedly kind.
"I'm… nervous," she said.
"We're only riding a carriage right now. That's all you need to think about."
"But what happens when we reach the palace?"
"Life is many small steps wrapped in a bundle."
Ailah found the phrase confusing. Her "Doesn't feel like—" She stopped to cough. Her throat was dry out of both nervousness and the treatment in the Labour Market.
"Here." The man reached behind his seat and pulled out a waterskin. "Drink."
She took a sip. It was clean, and the taste was smooth. Not at all like the ochre liquid she was given at the labour market. It was even better than the water at the orphanage. Ailah tried to give back the waterskin and he shook his hand.
"Go on, have as much as you like."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
She had a full drink of water and sighed in relief. Realising he was looking, she got nervous again.
"Do you have a name, miss?"
"Ailah," she said, twiddling her thumbs.
"I've never heard that one."
"My dad said it was his grandmother's name."
"Interesting. I'm Jared. Where are you from, Ailah?"
Somehow, his kind gaze and thin smile made her open up. She mentioned her birthplace, Cresthold, the orphanage, and shared how on her eighteen birthday, she went to sleep excited and woke up as a commodity.
"They must've used drugs. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"T-thanks." Why is he nice to me? What does he want?
"I come from a city called Aldington."
Ailah nodded. She was sweating under the thin dress. Her neck was suddenly incredibly itchy, and although she scratched it, the bothersome itch did not relent.
"Nervous?"
The question only made it worse. She thought of a quick lie. "What if they torture me?"
"Dear Ailah, you haven't been bought by savages."
"What if they lock me in a dungeon, starve me, or kill me?"
An odd expression spread on his face. Is he amused? Am I entertainment for him?
"Are you hungry?" Jared looked again behind his seat. Ailah's curious eyes followed as he drew out a small paper wrapper. He handed it to her.
A cake!
She squeezed her eyes shut. Why is he nice to me? The last cake I ate was drugged. He might be planning to have his way with me.
"It's not poisoned if that's what you're thinking."
She pointed at the cake. "Would you… first?"
"Are you offering me a bite from my own cake?" Jared asked with a wink, which made Ailah laugh.
He finished chewing and smacked his lips. "Delicious."
Indeed, that small piece of pastry tasted like the heavens had entered her mouth. While she ate, Jared told her more about himself.
"... and like many from that harbour city, my father was a merchant. He risked our family's meagre wealth on a product that failed to make a profit. Debt collectors can be ruthless. In a way, being a blade is less stressful."
"A blade!" Ailah said in surprise. That meant a special agent of the nobility, far more skilled and valued than a mere footman. He smiled in a way that made her shy again.
"That I am. How about yourself?"
Jared's casual honesty and the cake in her belly made Ailah feel comfortable.
"My family… was killed. In an attack."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
Nobody has ever said that to me.
"No relatives at all?"
She shook her head. "Many times, I dreamed of an uncle or an aunt that would rescue me from the orphanage. If there is anyone, then they surely don't care."
Jared gazed out of the carriage. It rattled as it continued through the forest. Outside, the sky was getting dark.
"Life has taught me that friends can be better than family."
Ailah wanted to believe that. She nodded and returned to sit in silence.
***
It was already after dark when they reached the forest's edge. The only light came from the moon above. Before long, however, Ailah spotted lit braziers on the edge of the road, showing the way.
She rubbed her bum. The carriage ride was so long that it had become numb and tingly.
Up ahead, the moonlight fell on tall stone walls. Cleaner than those of a knight fort. Pristine, even. A noble residence.
"Do you recognise the place?" Jared asked.
Ailah squinted. "Earlier, you said we're going to a palace."
"Ah, but which one? Here's a hint: look at the banners."
It was luxurious… perhaps a Duke's castle. Above the gates were flags of blue-and-gold, with… golden lions.
Ailah gasped. "Can it be… the royal palace?"
He clapped, and her heart jumped for a spin. More anxious thoughts filled her mind. Yes, she could become a maid or a servant, but rumours in the Labour Market spoke of a psychopathic physician that conducted murderous experiments on human subjects. Would that be her fate?
"Do you know what's to become of me?" she asked.
"No."
"Does that… dreadful physician—does he still operate on living subjects?"
"The Doctor? I believe he was forbidden from doing so."
"Just believe, or are you sure?"
"How can any of us be certain of anything?"
A dry joke or a grim observation? She kept thinking about the doctor. A cruel person can inflict many kinds of pain on a helpless captive. Why did she have to be born with such a vivid imagination?
***
They stopped outside the walls, beside an imposing portcullis. Ailah heard shouting and rattling as the gates were heaved open. Then the carriage proceeded through.
She saw the palace walls from afar, but never imagined that one day she'd view them from the inside. The town, Velanth, lay on the outskirts of the kingdom, and farther away were only woods and farmlands. Those who lived inside the walls were incredibly wealthy, powerful, and privileged. Above them all, at the very top, sat the King and his Queen.
On the inside, lit braziers illuminated the cobblestone road and the adjacent houses. Stone facades were adorned with decorations and large oaken doors. From what Ailah could tell, the carriage headed straight for the palace.
"Nervous?" Jared asked.
She nodded.
"I'm sure it'll work out fine."
Empty words, but she appreciated the thought.
"Will we… see each other again?" Ailah asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know. It's all up to Her Majesty."
"The Queen?!"
Jared's fingers rose to his smiling mouth. "You haven't heard it from me!"
The humorous tone lifted her mood. Ailah pretended to zip her lips, and Jared laughed.
"Good girl!"
They passed through ornate metal gates, and Ailah made out a silhouette of a person standing at the palace front. The opulent structure was enormous, and she stretched her neck trying to take in the sight. The knots in her stomach started twisting again, and her head thumped. More images of terrible punishments swept through her mind.
"I-I can't," she said with knocking teeth. "I can't get out."
Jared extended his hand.
"Dear Ailah, just follow in my steps. One foot after another."
There were rumours about the Queen. That she was as cruel as she was beautiful. That she bathed in the blood of maidens and drank the tears of anyone who dared insult her.
Ailah shook her head, but Jared did not remove his hand. With an encouraging smile, he took her fingers.
"You're scared, but remember: you're not the first servant here. If others could survive, so can you, so keep your wits about you."
Finally, Ailah found the courage to smile back at him.
"Thank you."
She struggled to maintain her composure as the carriage came to a halt near the silhouette. The squat driver jumped down from his seat at the front of the carriage and threw open the door.
It was time.
The other man looked like he was ready to throw her out like a sack of last year's potatoes, but Jared glared at him.
"Treat her like a lady. She is gentle."
"You're talking about market trash."
Jared tapped on his belt.
"Sir, though you may not see it, I have a very sharp blade strapped on me."
The driver lifted his hands and took a step back. She stared wide-eyed at the agent.
Why did he intimidate this thug for me?
After he climbed back into his seat and rode away, they walked up a flight of stairs and reached a side entrance made of heavy black oak. There, Jared took her hand and looked into her eyes. She suddenly noticed how appealing his baby blues were.
"I'm afraid this is as far as I can escort you. Gods willing, dear Ailah, we shall meet again."
Although fearful, she nodded. Once thick doors shut behind her, sealing any momentary thought of escape, she saw a shadowy figure waiting.
"Approach."
The voice was feminine. Though her legs felt like concrete slabs, Ailah forced them to obey and scrambled toward it.
"Follow me."
Without giving Ailah a second look, the woman marched off. She struggled to catch up. Under the fiery brazier lights, she could tell the woman wore fine dark linen, an ankle-length skirt, and a white apron. Her hair was tied up at the back of her head in a neat bun. Ailah guessed she was a maid.
Being a maid sure beats being someone's sex slave or science experiment.
A fleeting hope twitched inside her chest.
***
After a tour around the side of the castle and a walk down a set of dimly lit steps, they entered what appeared to be a kitchen. Spacious, with a couple of wood burners and a fire pit that Ailah assumed was a spit for roasting meat. Wooden sides lined the walls, herbs hung from racks, and a large sturdy wooden table stood in the centre.
The maid stopped and turned. Under the light, Ailah finally saw her face. It was wrinkled, and her hair was greying. Her body was plump, and she stood with both hands clasped in front.
She studied Ailah for a few seconds, during which her confidence began waning again.
"My name is Mrs Brennings. I am the Housekeeper and head of all female staff in the palace. You are to become a maid under my care."
Ailah bowed deeper while Mrs Brennings paused and looked around.
"The hour is too late for me to do something with you. Wash up and get yourself to bed immediately. I will see you in this kitchen at dawn and not a moment later."
"Yes m-ma'am," Ailah stuttered under Mrs Brenning's intense stare.
She's quite intimidating. I better not try her patience.
"Good. Up those stairs, and enter the second door on the left."
Ailah bowed again, hoping she was doing the move correctly and walked toward the exit.
Mrs Brenning called after her. "One more thing: make sure you are presentable in the morning. I will not stand for sloppy maids."
How am I supposed to know what presentable is?
Ailah nodded meekly. Arguing didn't seem like a smart idea at all. Perhaps it was a test to see how she handled orders.
***
Later, she entered a washroom and–to her great relief–cleaned the grime and dirt that had collected on her face, hands, and entire body for days. The memory of the dreadful labour market slowly faded while she rinsed her hair and patted herself dry.
It's like I'm a completely different woman now! Ailah thought. She chuckled gleefully.
She stayed in a small room with a bed, a set of drawers, and a wooden chair that she moved to the corner to make space. A maid's uniform hung from the back of the door, and a set of polished shoes waited underneath. A hairbrush sat on drawers and hairpins lay on the bed, along with undergarments. Ailah happily threw off the filthy linen garment from the market. The fresh sleeping clothes felt like a king's robes. She sighed with a smile and snuggled comfortably under the blanket.
Well, this could've turned out worse, she thought, nestling her head into the pillow.
Unless… those nasty rumours about Her Majesty are true.