The journey through the palace corridors felt endless, as if the very walls of the castle were shifting with each turn we took. The air grew colder, the light dimmer, until it felt like we were walking deeper into the heart of something far more ominous than the grand halls of royalty. Each step echoed off the marble floors, accompanied by the faint sounds of rustling tapestries and the distant clinking of armor as palace guards shifted in their posts.
The further we walked, the more rigid the guards became. Their eyes, though straight ahead, seemed to be scanning us with their peripheral vision, as if they were watching every move we made without so much as a turn of the head. Their stoic faces and tense postures sent a clear message: this was not a place for mistakes.
We rounded another corner, and suddenly the hallway opened up to a grand corridor. It stretched long and straight, flanked by tall marble pillars etched with symbols I couldn't decipher but could feel the weight of. The walls were adorned with banners and tapestries of deep reds, golds, and blacks, each one depicting a scene of battle, conquest, or some ancient, forgotten lore. The chandeliers above glowed faintly, casting a golden light that barely pushed back the shadows lurking in the high corners of the hall.
This was no ordinary quarter.
I could feel the tension in the air, as if the palace itself held its breath in reverence. It was as if the very stones beneath my feet understood the significance of the space we were walking through, and it became clear to me: this was the king's personal wing of the palace. The thick atmosphere, the looming sense of authority, the silence—it all spoke to the power held within these walls.
Finally, we reached the end of the corridor, where two massive doors stood before us. They were enormous, made of dark, polished wood, with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and warriors etched into their surface. The gold inlays glittered in the dim light, reflecting the grandeur of the room beyond. Above the door, an inscription in an ancient language was carved, and while I couldn't understand it, the weight of its meaning was palpable. This was the king's chamber—there was no doubt about it.
The king's assistant approached the doors without hesitation and pushed them open with surprising ease. The heavy wood groaned slightly, as though reluctant to reveal what lay beyond. I took a deep breath and followed him inside, my heart racing with both anticipation and dread.
The moment I stepped into the room, I was struck by its magnificence.
The king's personal chamber was breathtaking. The ceiling soared high above, supported by marble columns that stretched up like the trunks of ancient trees. Golden chandeliers dripped with crystals that glittered in the soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over the room. The floor was a polished mosaic of marble tiles, each piece fitting perfectly together to create an intricate pattern that spread across the entire chamber like a piece of art. The walls were adorned with velvet tapestries embroidered with gold and silver thread, depicting the histories of the kingdom—its wars, its victories, its losses. A large hearth sat in one corner, the fire within burning low but steady, casting flickering shadows on the high walls.
The room was filled with rich furniture—massive, dark wood tables, plush chairs draped with fine silks, and gilded mirrors reflecting the grandeur from every angle. Everything was lavish, from the richly woven carpets beneath my feet to the heavy velvet drapes that framed the tall windows. Even the air smelled different—like incense, spices, and something else I couldn't quite place, something faint but heavy, as if the room itself carried the weight of centuries of power and secrets.
Despite the opulence, there was a stillness in the room. A coldness that crept under my skin, reminding me that this was not a place of comfort. This was the king's domain, and everything about it radiated control and power.
My eyes were drawn to a smaller door on the far side of the room, slightly ajar. That was the king's inner chamber. No doubt he was in there, waiting. The very idea of being so close to him sent a jolt of anxiety through me. I hadn't expected to feel so tense, so unprepared for what lay beyond that door. My heart thudded in my chest as I stared at it, imagining the figure behind it.
The king's assistant, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke. "Stand here," he instructed, pointing to a spot near the wall.
I moved to the corner he indicated, trying to keep my breathing steady, but my nerves were making it difficult. He scanned the room briefly, his eyes darting across every surface as if ensuring nothing was out of place. His movements were sharp and precise, but there was something more—something cautious. It was as though he was on edge, preparing for something unseen.
Without knocking, the king's assistant stepped toward the inner door and called out in a low, respectful voice. "My king."
The room fell deathly silent. My breath caught in my throat, and I waited. I expected a voice to reply, something heavy and deep, something that carried the weight of the man behind it. But there was nothing. No sound came from the inner chamber.
The king's assistant, unfazed, continued. "I have carried out the orders as commanded. I am only here to give reports and introduce your new personal maid."
The way he spoke—so reverent, so careful—only increased the tension in the room. This was not the confident, authoritative man I had seen earlier. He was suddenly subdued, his tone almost meek in the presence of the unseen king. It was strange to see someone who commanded such authority reduce himself to this. What kind of man could make someone so formidable speak with such humility?
The silence that followed was unbearable, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. My pulse quickened. I could feel the anticipation building inside me, but not the kind of excitement I'd expected—this was fear, plain and simple. What kind of man was I about to serve?
Finally, the silence was broken.
"Very well, Marcus," came the king's reply.
The voice was nothing like what I had imagined. It wasn't dark or menacing. It wasn't cold or harsh. In fact, it was the exact opposite. The king's voice was smooth, almost soothing, with a calm authority that didn't need to shout to command respect. It was a voice that was deliberate and measured, with just enough warmth to surprise me, though there was an underlying current of something else—something I couldn't quite place.
"You always manage to save the day," the king continued. "For the girl, she starts tonight. You are dismissed."
My stomach dropped. *Tonight?* I was to start my duties tonight?
The king's assistant—Marcus—bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, and with that, he turned to leave, his eyes meeting mine briefly as he motioned for me to follow.
I moved on autopilot, my mind racing. Tonight? Why tonight? What duties would I be performing in the dead of night? And why had the king chosen to remain hidden behind his chamber door? The questions flooded my mind, but I had no answers. All I knew was that this was far more than I had bargained for.
As we left the king's chamber, the heavy door closing behind us with a soft thud, I felt like the world around me had shifted. The king's words echoed in my mind, the smooth, unexpected sound of his voice replaying over and over. I had expected something far different—something terrifying—but instead, I found myself more curious than ever. Who was this man, this figure who commanded such respect and fear yet spoke with such calm detachment?
Marcus led the way through the corridors once again, but this time, I was barely aware of my surroundings. The grandeur of the palace, the opulence of the hallways, the gold-trimmed tapestries—all of it faded into the background as my thoughts spiraled. What was the significance of my starting tonight? Why had the king chosen not to see me? What lay ahead for me in the coming hours?
We finally reached the corridor that led to my room. Marcus paused and glanced back at me.
"Hey, Mara," he said, his tone softer now. "Don't be late. You have the whole day to rest."
I nodded, though my mind was still elsewhere, clouded with uncertainty.
Without another word, Marcus turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving me standing alone. I didn't linger. I made my way back to my room and collapsed onto the bed, my thoughts swirling with all the questions I couldn't answer.
I was exhausted—not from any physical exertion, but from the weight of everything that had happened. I closed my eyes, and before I knew it, I drifted off into a restless sleep, the king's voice still echoing in the back of my mind.