Hamstung: Slaver's Bay
It wasn't walls or shadows she needed—just distance from who she had once been. Away from the life that refused to loosen its grip on her.
All she wanted now was to exist without meaning anything to anyone. To be spoken of without reverence or fear, or better yet, not spoken of at all. A nobody. Ordinary. Safe in insignificance.
But how was she meant to achieve this when her own body seemed determined to betray her?
Her hair had grown out—thick, unmistakable, impossible to ignore.
Months ago, she had cut it without sentiment and never spared it another thought. Back then, it had felt final, like closing a door she never intended to open again.
Now, standing before the mirror, she realized how naïve that had been. The reflection staring back at her carried fragments she had meant to bury.
The length of her hair softened her face in a way she remembered too well, tugging loose memories she had worked so hard to suppress.
Out of fear, she reached for the only thing within her grasp, a short, dulled knife, its edge worn thin by time and neglect. It was hardly meant for something as delicate as this, yet it would suffice. It always had.
Joya lowered herself onto the stool before the half-broken mirror, its cracked surface splitting her reflection into uneven fragments.
None of them felt whole.
As she studied herself, a memory surfaced—clear and unwelcome.
Days when survival had been governed by the unspoken laws of the streets, when appearances were shaped out of necessity rather than choice.
Now, faced with her reflection, she realized how far she had come and how much of that past still clung to her.
With a swift motion, she drew the blunt edge of the knife along the length of her hair. A thick clump of hair fell to the floor at her feet.
She did not pause. Another steady cut followed, then another.
Strands gathered on the ground until the weight at her shoulders lightened and the familiar length of her hair was gone.
When she finally lowered her hand, her hair sat shorter, rougher, and unforgiving in a way that suited her.
The woman in the mirror became foreign, almost unfamiliar.
Her icy blue eyes shifted to the side, catching a second reflection in the mirror.
Her brows hitched up, the movement sharp with surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked, his gaze following the blunt blade as she put it away.
She turned back to the mirror.
The woman staring at her felt altered beyond easy recognition.
"Do you not like the new look?"
She forced a smile and turned away.
Prator stepped closer until his tall frame loomed behind her. His gaze lifted to the mirror as his hands came to rest on her shoulders.
"You look different," he admitted.
It was surprising how a single change could alter a woman's entire appearance.
"Just what I wanted to hear," she said quickly, rising to her feet. She tried to move past him, but he caught her arm, holding her in place.
With a single finger, he lifted her chin, leaving her no choice but to meet his gaze. n
Their eyes met, and this time she did not look away. Her pupils dilated as he gazed profoundly into her eyes as though the answers to his question resided in them.
He found nothing.
No crack to seize upon.
Whatever he was searching for in those deep sea blue eyes did not surface.
He looked away, disappointed.
What he did not know was that this emptiness was her shield. The truth was the one thing she could never afford to give him. If he ever learned it, she would lose what little place she still held in his eyes, and that loss frightened her more than anything else.
Until now, she was still on the run. For the past year, she had known that the royal prince of Hamstung was still hunting her for a crime she did not commit.
He would recognize her instantly if she didn't reshape her face.
"You keep things from me," he said, his hot breath fanning against prickly skin.
He hesitated, then asked quietly,
"Do you… Are you afraid of me?"
"I am not afraid of you."
Her voice strained, her eyes betrayed her, glimmering with the emotions she refused to release… frustration, fear, and something darker, all locked behind a careful, controlled stare.
"You know I am not."
She added the words quietly, lowering her gaze.
"But I cannot tell you everything."
Her eyes flicked to her reflection in the mirror. There it was, the emotion she had buried, staring back at her like a nightmare.
"Some things were meant to stay hidden."
She turned from the mirror, hating the woman she saw.
"And these secrets you speak of…"
"I cannot tell you."
She intruded lightly.
He scoffed, running a hand through his hair while shaking his head.
Before she could reply, he yanked her aside and pressed her against the wall, leaving no space to move.
"You resent me."
He concluded, gazing profoundly into hers.
"I do not."
"Yes, you do!
He says, and her eyes dropped to the hand holding her left arm.
"You're hurting me."
"I sent my men to summon you, and you didn't show up."
He looked angry, but it seemed to have no effect on her.
"Do you know what I've sacrificed for you to be here?"
He continued ignoring her nonchalance.
She flinched, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightened.
"I claimed you before everyone," he said harshly. "Gave you a place. A name. Respect. And this is how you repay me, like I am nothing?"
"I didn't ask for any of it!"
She yelled, her voice splintering, her words cutting through the space between them.
"You think I want to rule over a bunch of people you treat like livestock?"
She spat out, her voice heavy with everything she had endured.
He gave her a crooked smile.
"No… I thought you would want to rule by me ... as my woman. But clearly you have other plans."
He released her from his grip, then turned away.
She watched as he walked away, making her look like the villain, but she wasn't; he was!
"Why didn't you tell me you have a wife?"
She finally let out the torment eating her up.
He froze midstep, one leg raised slightly in the air, inches away from the door.
"Not just a wife, but a wife and two children."
Joya continued, a bitter smile playing at her lips.
Still backing her, his head dropped before he slowly turned to look at her.
"Is that what all this is about?"
He proceeds to say before gauging her with his gaze.
"I just needed time…to tell you."
"I see."
She snaps, crossing her hand on her chest, while readjusting her position.
"How…how did you find out?"
He asked shamelessly. It was a question she had been expecting him to ask, and she wasn't surprised at all.
She dashed across the room towards a desk.
Her fingers went straight to the narrow drawer beneath the desk. It resisted for a moment before sliding open with a dry scrape.
She rummaged through it, pushing aside folded parchment and broken seals, until her hand landed on a letter.
When she drew the letter out, it was already creased, its edges softened from being handled and then hidden away again.
The wax seal had been broken long ago, pressed flat.
The room felt smaller; Prator ran his hand through his hair, his grey eyes reflecting everything he had feared would happen.
Her gaze lifted to him accusingly as she stretched out her hand, handing over the letter to him.
Her fingers trembled just by holding the letter, but he refused to take it from her.
"Take it."
She snarled in an authoritative tone, but he didn't so much as move. Nodding her head in quiet rebuff, she withdrew her hands, her feet dragging backwards, until her back touched the wall.
"You abandoned them."
She says, already feeling bad for all the time she had slept with him.
"I…I did not."
He stuttered, but she wasn't listening to him.
"Day by day, your wife must have been mounting curses upon me, upon that whore fucking her husband!
She felt her heart constrict at that thought. Why do only bad things come her way?
"You are not at fault…"
"Two daughters… How old are they, huh?
She questioned no one in particular, her mind already running wild with thoughts.
"You are not listening to me."
His voice strained.
"I will not listen to you!
She shrilled, fixing her attention on him.
"You have done nothing but trick me, mislead me!
She started lurching at him, her index finger pointed in his direction.
He shook his head at once. "I did nothing of the sort."
Joya suddenly halts.
He adjusted his sleeve, smoothing it down with two fingers, then looked up.
Her eyes were searching his face as though something familiar had fractured beyond repair.
"Why did you choose me?"
Her voice came in a small whisper, barely audible.
He was silent, maybe thinking of an answer, but in truth he had none.
"Answer me!
She screamed, her eyes blazing with a newfound anger, barely able to contain her emotions.
"You do not get to raise your voice at me."
His eyes darkened; his words were nothing but cold daggers puncturing through her soul.
"Of course, because you are my master, right?" I am nothing but a slave.
She clenched her fist, as if trying to channel all her anger into it.
His eyes softened; he seemed to realize his words were too harsh.
"I can explain. All the questions you have, and everything you wish to know, I will tell you in due time."
She looked away while he was still talking, shutting her eyes instinctively.
"Joya, look at me."
She heard him say it, but still her eyes remained tight shut.
"I can't."
She exhales, her voice shaking, underneath her hazy breath.
"I can't look at you."
She then turns away completely.
She had seen all the signs and heard rumors, yet she pushed them all away.
"Two days…"
He started, making his way in her direction.
"I had journeyed to the west for only two days, leaving my wife and two girls at home with the hope that I will return to them in due time."
He was taking big strides to where she stood, curled up by the corner, her face hidden from view.
"Every day, every minute, I thought of no one but her, my wife, Jalinn."
He paused, his tall frame hovering over Joya, but she still refused to look at him.
She could feel his presence, his strong scent, and even his voice sounded nearer, but still, she wouldn't look at him.
"I returned one night from my journey. The house was quiet, my girls…both my daughters were sound asleep.
My wife usually welcomed me on such occasions, but she was nowhere to be found."
His voice began to wither, but he controlled it.
"I found her in our chamber; she was in the embrace of another man, calling out his name softly as he made passionate love to her."
Joya's eyes fluttered open in an instant. Shocked by his words, she finally turns to look at him.
"To crown it all."
He continued, his hand palming her face.
"She was pregnant."