The carriage rattled over the stones as it moved away from the market. Ros, once known as Rosia, sat quiet, her eyes wide. Outside the window, tall trees and wide fields passed by. She had never seen a house so big before.
The noble family's estate was surrounded by high walls made of gray stone. Large iron gates opened slowly, and the carriage rolled inside. The garden inside was full of bright flowers and green bushes trimmed carefully. Birds sang softly in the trees.
Ros's heart beat fast. This was not like the slave yard she had known. Here, the ground was clean, the air smelled sweet, and the walls were painted white with gold lines.
When the carriage stopped, a tall man with a kind face and soft brown eyes opened the door. "Welcome home, Ros," he said. His voice was warm, like a fire on a cold night.
Ros swallowed her fear and stepped down. She followed the steps behind the noble family. The two blonde boys walked ahead, their heads held high, not looking back.
Inside the house, the rooms were bright and large. High windows let the sun in, and the floors were covered with soft rugs. Paintings of men and women in fancy clothes hung on the walls. Ros could not believe such a place existed.
"We will show you your room," the lady said, her blonde hair shining in the sunlight from the window.
The room was small but clean. A bed with white sheets stood in one corner. A wooden chest was at the foot of the bed. The walls were painted pale blue, and a small window looked out onto the garden.
"This will be your room," the lady said. "It is simple, but it is yours."
Ros looked around the room. She touched the sheets softly and sat on the bed. It felt strange to lie down on such soft cloth after all the hard floors she had slept on before.
The older brother—the one with sharp eyes—stood in the doorway. "You will need to learn fast," he said. "The house is not kind to those who are slow."
Ros nodded quietly. She wanted to say she was not slow, but the words did not come.
The younger brother came closer. "I'm Sebastian," he said, holding out a hand.
Ros hesitated, then took his hand carefully. "Ros," she replied softly.
Sebastian smiled just a little. "We are very different," he said. "But maybe, you and I can be friends."
Ros's heart leapt. Maybe here, in this big house full of strange faces and sharp glances, she would find something like a friend. Someone who saw past the mask she wore.
That night, Ros lay in her bed. The soft sheets felt strange against her skin. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
She thought of her old life—the chains, the fear, the hard cold nights. Now, she was here, in a new house, wearing a new name.
"Ros," she whispered to the dark room, "I will be strong. I will be more than they think."
Her fingers touched the edge of the blanket, clutching it like a promise.
Tomorrow, the real test would begin.
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