I shook my head in disbelief, my pulse racing. Without warning, I grabbed the weapon from Cora and threw it to the floor with a clatter.
"What is actually wrong with you people?" I demanded, mostly to her. My voice was harsh, raw with frustration. I rubbed my face with both hands, fingers tangling in my hair as if I could pull the anger and confusion out with them.
Cora didn't say a word. She only looked at me, her soft smile unwavering, calm, almost… infuriatingly patient.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight with rising panic. "Are you… okay in the head?" I asked, voice lower now, incredulous. "Do you all just… obey without thinking? Without questioning anything?"
She tilted her head slightly but didn't answer. Her brown eyes were steady, almost warm, and the smile never left her lips. Her silence spoke volumes, and it infuriated me further.
I felt the weight of my own power pulsing beneath my skin, the mark reminding me that I could make her obey completely. That I could force her to do anything. And yet… she already obeyed. No force necessary.
I pressed my palms to my face again, trying to steady my breathing. The hunger in my stomach was a dull ache now, overshadowed by frustration, fear, and the sick realization that I could not escape this village—or its people—so easily.
"I… I don't even know why I'm trying," I muttered, voice breaking slightly. "I just… I want something normal. Something real."
Cora remained silent, standing nearby, calm, attentive. She didn't offer answers, didn't push. She simply waited, letting me unravel in my own fury and confusion.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to sit back in the chair. My hands went back to the plate in front of me. The food, the soda… small comforts in a world that had suddenly become unbearable.
And as I continued to eat, my eyes flicked back to her, curiosity mingling with caution. Maybe she wasn't like the others. Maybe she was… different.
But I wasn't ready to trust her. Not yet.
And even as I thought it, I knew I couldn't stop watching her, couldn't stop feeling the pull of this village, this obedience, and the mark beneath my skin reminding me…
I scratched my arm as a chill ran through me. The evening air was growing cooler, and the small room offered little warmth. My gaze flicked toward the black female guard, then back to the food in front of me. Slowly, I discovered the melted ice cream I hadn't even noticed before and started eating it, the cold sweetness a strange comfort against the tension that still burned in my chest.
"Should I get you some new clothes to put on?" the guard asked softly, her voice calm and careful.
I looked at her, noting the gentleness in her tone, the warmth in her brown eyes, and the faint curve of her lips. She waited patiently, giving me space to decide. I nodded slightly. "Sure," I said, careful not to let my curiosity or caution slip too much. My voice was steady, though I couldn't mask the lingering tension in my body.
She didn't push, didn't question. She only gave me a soft smile and turned toward the doorway, leaving just enough room for me to finish what I had started without feeling rushed.
I continued eating, my hands occasionally brushing the plate, savoring the last bites of ice cream and the lingering flavor of the meal. The warmth of the food contrasted sharply with the cold prickling along my arms, a small but grounding reminder that I was still alive, still capable of simple comforts despite the weight of the mark and the devotion surrounding me.
Cora's presence nearby was strangely calming. She didn't hover, didn't question, didn't intrude. Yet I could feel her attentiveness, the subtle readiness to obey or protect if needed. Her loyalty was absolute, and even in its quietness, it unnerved me.
I swallowed the last bite, feeling both satisfied and alert at the same time. Hunger eased, but my mind remained tense. The villagers, the obedience, the mark pulsing beneath my skin — it never stopped. And yet, for this brief moment, I could let myself relax just a little.
Cora returned shortly with a set of simple clothes. I glanced at her, noting the way she moved with care, the soft authority in her posture even without speaking. I nodded again, silently acknowledging her thoughtfulness, though my guard remained up.
As I changed into the fresh clothes, I realized that in a village where nothing was ever truly mine, and where everyone obeyed me without question, these small acts — the meal, the clothes, the simple gestures of care — were strangely grounding.
Yet, even as comfort settled in my chest, I couldn't ignore the gnawing thought beneath it all:
Ok, you can get out," I said, my voice steady but firm.
The black female guard nodded softly, giving me a faint smile, then turned and left. I heard the door click shut behind her, the sound echoing faintly in the small room.
I hesitated, sitting on the chair, glancing at the fresh clothes in front of me. The chill in the air made my skin prickle, and I realized I could no longer ignore it. My fingers trembled slightly as I shifted, taking a deep breath.
The cold pressed against me, sharper now as night approached. Finally, I pushed myself off the chair and moved quickly, slipping into the new clothes. The fabric was soft, warm, and unfamiliar, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I felt a small measure of comfort.
Once changed, I let myself lean against the wall, taking a moment to steady my breathing. The room was quiet now, the village sounds distant, muted by the walls around me. Solitude stretched before me like an unfamiliar gift.
I allowed my mind to wander, circling around fragments of thought I had been pushing aside. The villagers, their devotion, the mark pulsing beneath my skin… all of it weighed on me, reminding me that even here, in my own small space, I was never truly alone.
And yet, for this brief moment, I could pretend. I could pretend that I was just me, not their queen, not the center of their obedience, not the one whose command could shape life and death.
My hands went to my hair, tugging lightly as I thought of the day's events—the fight, the hunger, the cautious interaction with Cora. The surge of power I had felt earlier, the thrill and the fear intertwined, lingered like a pulse beneath my skin.
I moved toward the small window and peered out. The village stretched quietly under the dim glow of the evening sky. The villagers continued their tasks, methodical, loyal, and watchful, even at this hour. I could feel them, their anticipation, their readiness. And I realized, with a cold certainty, that nothing here was accidental.
The mark throbbed faintly, a reminder of my authority, my power, my unasked-for dominion. And even as I took comfort in the warmth of fresh clothes and quiet solitude, I knew it was temporary.
Soon, I would have to step out again. Soon, I would have to confront the obedience, the devotion, and the terrible weight of being their queen.
But for now, in this small room, in this moment, I allowed myself to simply breathe. To be alone. To be human.
Even if only for a little while.