"Jas! Run!" The young girl heard the urgent command cried out to her, yet she remained paralyzed at the broken door, watching the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Her mother was being assaulted by three awful men. Their little home was scattered and their belongings tossed around.
"Please," the woman on the ground pleaded, her words a desperate prayer to her nine-year-old daughter while she tried to fight off the men. A vicious slap echoed through the room, the man who had slapped her returned his hand beneath her dress, while another man ripped the fabric from her chest. The woman's eyes slammed shut, her body igniting with a bright glow, overshadowing the solitary candlelight flickering in the corner.
"She's a fae," one of the men whispered.
The men recoiled, casting her face-down to the ground, and they stared in wonderment at the thin pairs of wings that had grown from her back. When one of them dared to touch the wings, her eyes snapped open, her body twisting in protest.
"No...please..no.." she sobbed, tears cascading down her cheeks. With a savage tug, one pair of wings was wrenched from her back, the other fading in dull light.
The woman's scream pierced the night, a raw, heartrending cry that spurred her daughter to run into action. But instead of fleeing, the girl charged towards her mother's tormentors, trying to pry them away.
"Stay away from my mother... Leave her...leave her alone," she shrieked, her tiny fists landing blow after blow on the man. She bit down on his arm, drawing a howl of pain from his lips, and he sent her flying across the room with a hard slap. When her mother protested, he slammed her head back to the ground, ripping away her second pair of wings and drawing another agonized scream.
Jas stood up, ready to lurch at the man again, but one of them snatched her, a harsh slap staining her cheek red before he bound her hands.
"Why don't you just watch quietly," the man sneered, forcing her to look towards her mother. The girl thrashed about, gasping for air as his large hand covered her nose and mouth, her breaths came in ragged gasps as she fought to turn her head away....
GASP
A girl sitting in the moving cart jolted awake, her breaths hitching in her throat as the cart hit a stone. After a few deep breaths, she calmed down, sinking back into the cart's rough seat.
"Jasmine, are you okay?" A concerned voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and her ocean blue eyes shifted to the person, and she nodded with a small smile.
Sighing, Jasmine looked at the chains binding her hands and feet together, just like the others in the cart. Five girls and two men, all from the slave market, were being taken to the royal palace.
It had been ten years since Jasmine woke up on the chilling stone floor of a cell alone, the cell stinking of human sweat and waste. She walked to the door and held the rusty bars to see the people who were locked up like her. With the days that passed, Jasmine had learned to find the place as her home while trying to forget the past. To her, the cell was her safe haven away from the dark and cold realities of the world outside. She had always escaped being auctioned for sale and taken away from the slave market.
But luck hadn't been on her side this time as she was picked among the slaves sent to the royal palace. For a person locked in such a terrible place who was supposed to be happy to get outside the tall walls, Jasmine rather felt dread loom her heart as she stared at the scenery that they passed by. A bit thankful, she reminded herself she was only going to the castle to work for five days, for the Queen's birthday celebration, and after that, she would return back to the slave market. She joined the rest in their little chats, pushing her dream to the back of her mind.
Once the cart drove past black huge gates, her dull eyes fell on the white palace and the statues and trees in the compound. The cart was pulled to a stop, the coachman, who was one of the guards in the slave market, jumped down from his seat and went to the cart to open it. The slaves came down one after the other and stood in line while the guards uncuffed the chains from them. The chains were heavy and bound tight to make sure no one would be able to run too far when escaping.
While Jasmine waited in line for her chains to be uncuffed, her eyes roamed the palace like the rest of the slaves, and she looked at the doorstep, which was far from where they were standing.
The guards were bowing at the person climbing down the steps, her eyes fell on a man with long silvery locks that were packed in a ponytail. He was wearing a black coat over his white shirt and black trousers. When he walked to the black horse standing beside the door, she caught sight of the black eye patch covering his left eye. With a swift easiness, he climbed the horse and started galloping out of the palace, and it was then the guards raised their heads up.
Hearing the chains fall beside her, Jasmine turned her face back to the guard who had squatted to the ground in front of her and unlocked the chains around her ankles. He stood back and unlocked the one on her wrist before moving to the next person. Already used to the weight of the chains, Jasmine only stared at the red marks on her pale skin before walking into the palace through the back door with the guard.
They were stopped in front of a plump woman who handed them their uniforms and the portions of work for the days they were spending here. When the woman moved to Jasmine, she dropped the gown that looked like it was made of sack on her hand, but before she could speak, a tall scrawny man came running from the corridor toward him.
"Mrs. Molly," he called while panting for breaths, and he pushed his glasses up his nose.
"One of the princes hasn't been assigned a maid yet," he conveyed, and a slight frown appeared on the woman's forehead.
"Which of the princes?" Mrs. Molly asked.
"Prince Nikolai," he replied.
"The Queen assigned Emily personally for him, what are you saying?" Mrs. Molly asked while frowning at this assistant of hers.
He looked down at the scroll he held in his hand and pushed his glasses over his tiny eyes again.
"Haha, I'm sorry," he laughed at his clumsiness, "It is Prince Lucian," he corrected himself.
Mrs. Molly looked at the girl she was yet to assign a work, she looked good enough to serve a prince, and she collected the sack gown from her and gave her a cream-colored cotton gown.
"What's your name?" Mrs. Molly asked the girl.
"Jasmine."
"Write down Jasmine's name for Prince Lucian, Peter. She's one of the new slaves that was hired, teach her all the necessities in serving the prince," Mrs. Molly said, and Peter dropped his head in a low bow.
The woman looked at all the servants again and waved her hands for them to leave and start with their work. Walking quickly, Jasmine followed the man who was supposed to mentor her into the main hall.