Chapter 7

When Ayla finished studying herself in the mirror, she decided to inspect her new room. Given that this was her new room. It was simple but beautiful. Feminine. Apart from the bed, two white nightstands, a table with two chairs, and a mirror, there was also a wardrobe, a desk with an armchair, and an empty bookshelf. Soft rugs made from animal furs covered the stone floor.

On the table, Ayla spotted a small pile of books, a bouquet of flowers, and a basket with fruits. She had never seen flowers like these; they were small, white, and delicate, and the petals were in the form of a bell. She picked the bouquet up and smelled them— the scent wasn’t familiar to her, but she loved it. She put the flowers back on the table and decided to look at the books. There were five in total, three about medicinal plants and flowers from all over the continent, and the other two contained stories and myths about the gods.

“Oh, Milton! Thank you!” Ayla said, hugging one of the books to her chest. She hoped Milton wouldn’t get into trouble for being her friend.

A door closed behind Ayla, and when she looked to see if someone had entered the room, there was no one there. Ayla frowned but turned her attention back to the books. She picked a book about the gods, picked a fruit from the basket, sat down to bed, opened the book, and took a bite from the fruit. She lay on the bed, rested her head on Kerra’s belly, and started reading.

Ayla spent half of the morning in bed, reading until, to her shock, a maid brought her breakfast. When Ayla asked about Milton or if the King needed her, the maid said that she had the entire day to rest. The King would see her that evening at dinner.

The thought of dining with the King filled Ayla with anxiety. She looked in the mirror and laughed bitterly. Who said anything about her eating with the King? The maid said that Ayla would see King Rhobart at dinner. Most certainly to serve him. After all, Ayla wasn’t sick anymore, and she was his slave. So, if she must serve the cruel King, that’s what she would do.

Ayla was so nervous that she decided to skip breakfast and lunch. She was sure that if she ate anything, she would end up throwing up because of her nerves. A blizzard started outside, and a strong wind swept the land. Ayla now wished she hadn’t eaten the fruit.

She tried reading to calm herself, but she often found herself reading the same paragraph four or five times in a row. In the end, Ayla gave up reading entirely. Instead, she started pacing around the room. She felt like a trapped animal. If she was completely honest with herself, she was. Trapped, that is. She needed sun and fresh air.

Kerra looked at Ayla like she was a madman. Woman. Woman. Maybe she had gone crazy.

Suddenly, Ayla stopped in front of Kerra. “Don’t look at me like that! I bet you would be as nervous as I am if you had to serve the man that killed your father and took you as a slave!”

Not that she regretted that her father was dead. He could rot in the Eternal Darkness forever—for eternity, and then some. But King Rhobart hated her. She knew it. She had seen it in his eyes. Would he punish her for her father’s acts?

Kerra made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a hiss. Ayla sighed and sat next to the snowcat and stroked her fur. When Kerra’s purrs helped calm her nerves, Ayla went in front of the mirror and started brushing her long hair. It was custom for Myrthanian women to keep their hair long. Hers almost reached her lower back. When she was done brushing it, she braided it.

It was late afternoon when two maids entered Ayla’s room. One of them brought a new blue dress. Both looked at Ayla like she was a deer and they were shadow beasts. Kerra darted out of the room a second before the door closed. The black tips of her tails almost got caught by the door.

‘Leaving me alone with the enemy?’ Ayla thought when she found herself alone with the maids.

The women bowed in front of Ayla, and one of them said to her, “We are here to assist you with your bath and get you ready for dinner.”

Ayla blinked once, twice. A slave that gets to be helped by maids? She had never seen or heard of such a thing. The slaves from her father’s castle were the ones to help everyone else. And even if, for Myrthana’s slaves, bathing was a must, good food, medicine, or a comfortable room was not something that a slave enjoyed. What made the King of Nordmar treat his slaves differently?

Ayla knew that if she had been sick while being a slave in her father’s castle, now her brother’s castle, she would have died. But in Nordmar, instead of being dead, she was receiving special treatment.

Did King Rhobart have all his slaves to be properly groomed, or only her?

“I can get ready by myself. You don’t need to bother with me. I am sure you have a lot to do,” Ayla said, hoping the maids would leave her alone.

“The King has ordered us to assist you. Don’t make this difficult for us,” one of them said in a cold tone.

Ayla clenched her teeth and thought, ‘He really wants to show off his new slave,’ while she sighed and nodded.

One of the maids rushed into the bathroom and started preparing the bath while the other began unbraiding Ayla’s hair.

“Your hair is soft and long,” she said. “Too bad it looks so unhealthy. When I finish with you, your hair will look amazing.”

Ayla inhaled deeply and let the maids do their job.

When the bath was ready, the maids washed and scrubbed every inch of Ayla’s body using oils and herbs until her skin felt like that of a newborn and her hair was shining and healthy once again.

When the maids finally let Ayla out of the bath, they made her stand in front of a wall that had some set of pipes. One of the maids pushed some buttons, and warm air blew out of the pipes, drying Ayla from head to toe.