Chapter 8: barely an improvement

I should’ve felt relief. I had escaped. I had told him no. But instead, a hollow ache opened in my chest, a gnawing dread that made every breath sting.

By the time I reached the wing of the castle where my small quarters were tucked away, my legs were trembling. I pushed the door open, expecting the familiar gloom of my cramped room, the only place in this castle that had ever been mine pathetic as it was.

But instead, the air was thick with noise.

Gasps, hurried footsteps, the rustle of fabric being folded.

My eyes widened.

A group of servants bustled inside my room, moving with the efficiency of people who had long learned to obey orders without hesitation. The few clothes I owned, the old blanket that had comforted me during countless lonely nights, were being packed into chests and bags.

For a moment, I just stood there, too stunned to make sense of what I was seeing.

“What… what are you doing?” My voice cracked, hoarse from the screaming I hadn’t realized I’d held inside me earlier.

The servants froze mid-action, like startled deer caught in sudden light. One of them, a woman with pinched lips and a perpetually sour face, straightened slowly. Her name was Merra. She had mocked me for years, never missing a chance to remind me of my disgrace, my exile-born bloodline.

But tonight, her eyes flicked nervously toward the door before settling on me.

“Master Onyx has ordered for your things to be moved,” she said flatly. Her tone carried none of its usual venom. Instead, it was tight, clipped, tinged with something that almost sounded like fear.

My stomach dropped.

“Moved?” I echoed, blinking as though the word itself had betrayed me. “To where?”

Merra hesitated. The others kept working, their hands quick but their gazes averted, as though looking at me too long would invite danger.

Finally, Merra answered. “To a room closer to his.”

Her words sliced through me like cold steel.

“No.” The denial slipped out of me like a gasp of air I couldn’t contain. “No, he can’t—”

Merra raised her chin slightly, some of her old smugness flickering back into place, though it was dimmer than usual. “He can, and he has. His word is enough, whether you agree or not.”

The walls seemed to tilt around me. My fingers dug into the doorframe to steady myself.

Of course Onyx would do this. Of course he would twist the night into yet another chain to bind me. It wasn’t enough to rip me from my cell, to corner me in his chambers, to make me feel the weight of his claim with every look, every word. No, he had to take even this, the small, pitiful room where I had learned to survive in silence.

My voice came out sharper than I intended. “And what if I refuse?”

The servants stilled again. Silence hung in the air for a moment before Merra spoke, her lips curling just slightly, though her eyes flickered with unease.

“Refuse all you want. It won’t matter. You’ll end up where he says you belong.”

Heat surged through me, anger sparking bright against the ashes of my fear. My fists clenched at my sides.

I wanted to scream at them, to demand they put everything back, to claw back even this tiny shred of control. But I couldn’t. Because beneath the fury was the truth I hated most...she was right. If Onyx had commanded this, there was nothing I could do to stop it. Not without inviting his wrath all over again.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself into the room, weaving past the servants until I reached the small trunk where my folded blanket rested. I touched it briefly, as though holding on to it would ground me.

“This room…” My words came out softer now, trembling. “It’s mine. It’s the only thing I’ve had. You can’t just—”

But Merra cut me off, her voice low, almost pitying. “He already has.”

The finality in her tone left no room for argument.

I stood there, helpless, as they carried out the last of my belongings. The sight was surreal, like watching the walls of my life collapse one by one. I remembered the nights I had cried into that blanket, the mornings I had woken to the damp chill of these cracked walls. It wasn’t much, but it had been mine. Now, even that was gone.

“Where is this… new room?” I asked finally, my throat raw.

Merra gestured curtly. “Follow us.”

And so I did.

We wound through the dim halls of the castle, the flickering light of the torches casting long shadows across the stone floors. Every step felt heavier, each turn bringing me closer to the one place I didn’t want to be.

When we reached the new quarters, I almost laughed.

It wasn’t what I expected.

The room was small, far smaller than Onyx’s grand chambers. The walls were bare, the floor uneven, and the single window was cracked in its frame, letting in a faint draft that smelled of the outside gardens. The furniture was old and scuffed, the bed narrow and poorly made. A shabby space by noble standards....though larger than the tiny room I had left behind.

Merra set my trunk down with a thud. “This will do.”

I turned to her, my lips parting with the thousand words I wanted to say, my anger, my fear, the protests burning on my tongue. But her gaze lingered on me for a brief second, her expression unreadable. Then she turned and left without another word, the other servants trailing after her like shadows.

And just like that, I was alone.

I stood in the center of the shabby room, my chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

The silence pressed in.

This wasn’t freedom. It wasn’t even survival. This was control. A leash disguised as a gift. Onyx hadn’t just moved me closer, he had uprooted me entirely, erased the only sense of stability I had left.

I sat down on the edge of the narrow bed, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my knees.

The scent of dust filled my nose. The draft from the window tickled my bare arms. The sound of the castle carried faintly through the walls, the distant murmur of voices, the creak of footsteps above.

But all I could hear was his voice.

You’ll come back. You’ll crave me, the way I already crave you.

Tears pricked my eyes, hot and unrelenting. I buried my face in my hands, pressing hard as though I could block out everything, his smirk, his voice, the way his fingers had felt on my skin.

“I’d rather be alone,” I whispered to the emptiness.

But alone wasn’t possible. Not anymore.

Because even here, in this shabby little room just steps away from his, I could still feel him. His presence stretched like a shadow over me, suffocating and unyielding.

And deep down, in the part of me I hated most, I feared Merra had been right.

It didn’t matter what I wanted.

I was already his.