Chapter 3: Chapter 3

KAMORA

The tension in the hall was so thick one could cut it with a knife. It clung to the air like a damp cloak, heavy and suffocating, and everyone held their breath, scared of making a sound.

A little boy with hair as dark as obsidian stood at the entrance of the hallway, rage flickering in his eyes like wildfire. He looked to be about eight years of age, though he carried himself in a manner that spoke of wisdom far beyond his years.

He was beautiful—unnaturally so—with ears a tad longer than humans, pointy at the tip and unmistakably Fae.

Kamora stared as the child’s guardians stood trembling before him. Yet even in their fear, they did not falter.

They held their ground, barring him from going any further.

“My lord, you need to rest,” one of them said, voice low and measured. “You are just recovering.”

“And I want to go see my father,” the little boy retorted, his voice sharp with frustration. “Why won’t you let me?”

“He is not around, my lord.”

“Well then I’ll wait for him in his study.”

“We can’t allow that, my lord. We have strict orders not to allow you in there.”

Kamora watched the exchange with interest, fascinated by how the young lord interacted with his servants. The others waiting for the interview observed in silence too. Claudia stood stiffly beside them, her expression twisted in irritation.

“Young lord,” she called sharply, drawing his gaze.

If he noticed the line of people in front of his hall, he gave no sign. His eyes landed squarely on the head maid.

“I want to stay in my father’s office.”

“We cannot allow that, my lord,” Claudia said, her tone firm but calm. “Your father ordered us not to allow you in his study unless he is around or sends you on an errand. You are just recovering from an illness. Why don’t you go back and rest?”

The boy’s face twisted with annoyance, and after a heartbeat of silence, he pivoted and stormed off, his guardians trailing after him.

The sight left a dull ache in Kamora’s chest—there was something pitiful in the way he just wanted to see his father and was denied.

When the hallway was quiet once more, Claudia shifted her attention back to the group.

“We are done here,” she declared.

Then, turning to one of the maids flanking her side, she said, “Lead them to their quarters.”

The maid nodded, then addressed them. “Follow me.”

Without another word, she turned down the same passageway the young lord had taken.

Kamora looked at Petal and found her looking back. They exchanged a small, knowing smile.

As they walked, Kamora studied her surroundings. Huge paintings of past lords of the Maroke manor lined the walls, each one depicted with their families in regal poses.

They were beautiful—almost too perfect—but there was something unnerving about the expressions of the lords. All of them looked…indifferent. Cold.

“We are here,” the maid said, pointing to a small door.

“Whenever you have to work in the hallway or the hall, this is the pathway you take. But if you have a chore in any other area of the house, you are to use the servant doors. The maid who comes to assign your tasks will show you where that is,” she said. She stepped toward the door and opened it.

“This leads to the kitchen,” she continued. “The adjacent room is the servants’ quarters. That’s where you’ll be staying. Go on in.”

Kamora exchanged another glance with Petal. Together with the rest, they stepped into the kitchen.

The maid watched them with impatience, giving Kamora little time to take in the room’s grandeur. Still, she noticed the polished countertops and gleaming pots that sat in a huge cupboard.

The door the maid had referred to earlier sat on the far side of the room, away from the busier area of the kitchen.

“Hurry and rest,” the maid said from the doorway. “Your chores begin this evening.”

Then, without ceremony, she shut the door.

Kamora glanced around at the others. They were all sizing each other up, their expressions guarded as if unsure how to proceed.

Petal clapped suddenly, a huge grin stretched across her face. “Hello everyone! I’m Petal and it’s nice to meet you. This is my first friend,” she said, pulling Kamora forward by the arm. “She goes by the name Kamora. Unique, isn’t it?”

A blush crept onto Kamora’s cheeks and she gave a small wave. “Hello,” she said softly.

The tension in the room eased at once, and one by one, the others introduced themselves. There were seven of them in total—women from different backgrounds, each with hopes of serving in elite households.

When introductions were done, they shifted their attention to the room. It was large yet oddly cramped.

Mats lay scattered across the floor, giving the space a disordered look that didn’t match the elegance of the manor.

“I guess we’re not the only ones staying here,” said Maya, one of the girls.

That much was clear, Kamora thought, but what she didn’t understand was why the place looked so scattered. For a room full of maids, it was unexpectedly untidy.

“I don’t think this is our permanent room,” another girl, Amara, offered. The rest turned to her.

“Well, for some of us anyway.” She shrugged. “This isn’t my first time working in a big household. There are servants’ quarters near every major part of the manor. Your chores decide where you’ll stay.”

“So that means, if you’re assigned to the kitchen or the hall, you’ll stay here?” Petal asked.

“Probably.”

“Well then, why don’t we go ahead and rest?” Petal suggested. “This might be the only chance we get once our chores start.”

***

Later that evening, they had all rested and were ready to begin their duties in the manor.

“What do you think they’ll give us?” Petal asked, lying next to Kamora. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“I don’t know,” Kamora replied, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Ever since she’d stepped into the manor, a strange feeling had coiled in her gut. It was like standing in a room you’d once lived in but couldn’t fully remember.

Perhaps I’ve been here before I lost my memory, she thought.

But was she ready to face her past? That, she wasn’t sure of.

The door creaked open and everyone sat up straight, their gazes snapping to the entrance.

A woman stepped in—clearly a maid, judging by her attire. She wore a plain black gown that ended at her knees, a white apron tied at the waist.

Her hair was pulled into a tight bun beneath a lacy cap. She regarded them all with blank disinterest.

“I’m Sandra,” she said. “I’ll be giving you your respective chores.”

Petal glanced at Kamora, her eyes twinkling.

“It’s time to work,” she whispered.

Kamora gave a half-smile, even as unease stirred in her belly.