Chapter 22 Non-existent rights
Ira’s POV
The hallway feels alive as all of us servants move together in a long line. Our steps echo lightly, as though everyone is too scared to take a wrong step, like we are all trying to walk without drawing attention.
The cloth of our brown dresses –they seem more like uniforms– brush against one another as we head into a hall I've never been in before.
“Ira,” Sia whispers, leaning very close to me. She keeps touching the edge of my sleeve, her excitement leaking out with every tiny movement.
She leans her mouth close to my ear. “You know this only happens once in a month,” she chuckles, the sound reminding me of a giddy child.
I blink at her. “What happens?”
“You will see,” she answers, smiling like she holds a secret in her mouth.
We reach the wide doors at the end of the hallway and step inside a large hall. The sight stops me so suddenly that the servant behind me bumps my shoulder. But I hardly feel it.
There is food everywhere.
Steam rises from pots that look too polished to belong to us. The smell of seasoned beef fills the whole room. It is warm and rich, almost heavy, like it can pull me forward by my ribs. The tables shine with clean plates.
Real plates.
They're white and smooth. Not the dented metal ones we use every other day.
“Move,” Mia hisses behind us. “Find seats or get the fuck out.”
Sia holds my hand and pulls me forward quickly. Sometimes she acts like the overprotective parents I see around kids in the market at Vamora.
We settle near the middle of a long table on which are several plates of delicacies.
I lower myself to the seat. When I look down at the plant in front of me, my breath catches in my throat.
A large piece of juicy beef sits on my plate. My tongue rolls over my lips as I stare dreamingly at the thick, tender flesh.
My mouth waters so fast I look away for a moment, embarrassed.
I can't ever remember eating something healthy.
Sia nudges my foot under the table and grins. “I told you.”
I nod but I do not speak. Heck, I cannot take my eyes off the food.
Just as I reach for my plate, a hand slides across me and knocks my fingers aside. Mae. She pulls the plate away from me and replaces it with a smaller one. A much smaller one.
My body goes still.
Sia rises slightly. “Mae, what are you doing?”
Chloe and another girl lean closer, forming a small wall around me.
“Put it back,” Chloe says in a low, firm voice.
Mae hugs the plate like it belongs to her bloodline. “If anyone deserves the biggest meal, it is not her.”
My stomach tightens.
Sia frowns. “Return it.”
Mae scoffs loudly. “We all scrubbed the training base for hours last week. What was she doing? Standing beside the commander and passing him water. That is not work. That is play. It's unfair.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
Chloe shakes her head. “She is doing what she is assigned.”
Mae lifts her chin with an ugly smile. “We all know why she is assigned anything close to him. She has a wet pussy. That is the only reason the commander treats her better.”
People near us turn to look as the hall grows quiet around our table.
My mouth opens and when I speak, I do not look away from Mae.
“If you believe that about yourself, do not push it on me.” I mutter.
Her eyes widen as if she cannot believe she heard me right.
Her chair scrapes loud against the floor as she stands. “You little…”
Chloe tries to hold her arm but Mae tears herself free. Her hand flies toward my face.
My body reacts before my mind thinks.
I rise, slapping her across the face the second time this month.
The slap rings sharply through the room. Mae’s head snaps to the side.
Guards rush forward. A tall male guard grabs Mae roughly. Cortis, takes my arm, her grip firm and steady, leaving no space for argument. She does not look angry. She also does not look pleased.
“Out,” she says.
The guards pull us away from the table and out of the hall. Mae continues shouting insults behind me, but her voice fades as the distance grows.
Cortis does not lead me to the punishment building. Instead, she walks toward a quiet open field behind the hall. Grass moves in long waves as the breeze pushes through it. The sky looks pale, like the sun is hiding behind thin clouds.
Cortis stops near a low stone bench and sits.
“Sit,” she orders.
I stand still for a moment, breathing fast. “If you are going to punish me, you can just do it now.”
Cortis lifts her eyes to me. She studied me for a slow second. Then she lets out a soft laugh. It is not loud. It is not warm either. It is simply there.
“Oh, Ira,” she says quietly. “There are many punishments I can give you. Many. But none of them are fitting for this moment.”
Her gaze moves over me, then returns to my face. I stiffen slightly. I cannot look her directly in the eye for long, so I lower my gaze to the grass.
She leans forward with her elbows on her knees. “Relax. You act like I will bite you.”
“That is not comforting,” I answer before I can stop myself.
Her mouth lifts a little, like the edge of a small smile.
Silence spreads between us. The wind pushes strands of my hair across my cheek. I pull them back.
My palm still burns from the slap. My heart has not slowed since the hall.
Then Cortis speaks again. “This is the last time you will sit with the servants for a long while.”
A cold feeling slips through my chest.
“Why?” I ask. “Am I being punished another way?”
“No,” she replies. “Not unless you consider being at the commander's beck and call a punishment.”
My breath stops. The words hit me like a sudden stone thrown into deep water.
“What?” I say. “Why? When did this happen?”
Cortis does not look interested in my questions as she simply stands.
A guard stops in front of her. I have seen him many times near the training grounds.
He reaches Cortis and leans toward her ear. His voice is low but still clear enough for me to hear.
“Commander Ruel demands her now.”
My chest tightens. My legs feel weak under me.
Cortis straightens and with a calm expression, she says to me, “Follow me.”
She turns at once and walks away, her back straight, her pace firm and controlled. She does not check if I am behind her. She does not pause. She doesn't even hesitate.
It's like she's silently telling me how non-existent my right to choice is.
With a hard swallow, I step forward.