The first morning in the Obsidian Palace came like a wave of cold light. The high windows of the servant quarters allowed the sun's crimson rays to filter in, casting the room in soft orange and red hues. Elara rubbed her eyes, sitting up on the thin straw mattress, careful not to disturb Selene, who was still asleep. The reality of her new life pressed against her chest like a weight she could not yet measure.
Her silver-white hair caught the morning light, and she realized, not for the first time, how much she stood out. In a sea of black and brown hair, she was luminous — and, judging by the glances of the other girls, that alone was enough to spark jealousy.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Elara, get ready. The King's personal steward wants you in the main hall within the hour," said Selene, already sitting and tying her hair into a practical braid. Her hazel eyes were calm but held a flicker of concern. "He doesn't usually see new slaves himself, but… you know why."
Elara swallowed hard. She did not fully know why, but she had sensed it — some unseen force drawing attention her way. She followed Selene through the corridors, her feet making soft clicks against the polished obsidian floors. Every step felt like an announcement of her presence, though she tried to make herself small, unassuming.
The main hall was immense, as she had imagined from afar. Black marble columns rose to support vaulted ceilings, and crimson banners hung like drops of blood frozen in fabric. Servants moved about with precise coordination, delivering trays of food, cleaning, and organizing. Every movement was a reminder that in the palace, order and obedience were law.
"Elara," called a crisp voice from the far end of the hall. She turned and froze. Standing on the elevated dais, bathed in a beam of morning light, was a woman with hair like molten fire and eyes sharp enough to pierce stone. Princess Liora Vaelthorn, Lucien's younger sister, regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
"So, this is the girl," Liora said, her voice low but cutting, carrying over the hall despite its volume. "The one they say looks like the late queen." Her eyes narrowed. "Do you know what happens to those who think themselves more than they are?"
Elara's stomach tightened, but she remained silent, keeping her head bowed slightly. Selene placed a hand briefly on her shoulder, a quiet gesture of reassurance.
Before Liora could speak again, a tall, gaunt man in the King's uniform approached. "Your Highness, the King has requested her presence immediately."
Liora's lips twisted into a half-smile. "Be quick, then. I would not waste the King's time on someone who cannot even speak for herself."
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The corridor to the throne chamber was quieter than the main hall, lined with statues of past kings and queens — humans and demons, carved in obsidian and gold. Elara's pulse quickened with every step. She tried to focus on the patterns in the marble, the ornate carvings, anything to distract herself from the inevitable confrontation with the King.
When the massive doors opened, Elara's breath caught. The throne room was vast and regal, with a ceiling that seemed to touch the clouds. Light from the twin moons' painted windows gave the obsidian floor an ethereal glow even in the early morning sun. She felt the air shift around her as her eyes swept the room.
And then she saw him.
Lucien Vaelthorn, King of Noctara, stood at the far end of the room. His presence was immediate, commanding, and terrifying. Dark crimson tips of his black hair caught the light as if they burned from within. His golden eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to the distance between them.
He did not move immediately. He simply observed, his gaze calculating, powerful. Elara felt as though he could see past the surface, past her fear, past the chains on her wrists, and into some hidden corner of her mind.
"Step forward," he said finally, his voice smooth, like polished steel.
Elara obeyed, keeping her head low, her hands folded in front of her. The floor seemed impossibly wide, the space between her and him stretching out in long, echoing beats of her heart.
Lucien's eyes did not leave her. A slight flicker of recognition — curiosity, perhaps something more — passed over his features. "You are the one they call Elara," he said, the name unfamiliar yet pronounced with care. "You are now in my service. Do you understand?"
Elara nodded, her voice barely audible. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He inclined his head slightly, satisfied with her obedience. "Good. Your first duties will begin immediately. You will serve in the palace proper. Do not stray. Do not disobey. You are a guest in the court, though I warn you: any misstep may cost more than you think."
Her throat went dry. She wanted to speak, to ask questions, but the weight of the room pressed her into silence. Only when she turned to leave did she notice the subtle shifts in the air — whispers from servants, eyes following her every step.
___
Back in the servant quarters, whispers spread quickly. Some servants were impressed by her composure, others resented it. Liora's anger simmered; she had watched the King's interest in Elara flicker, subtle but undeniable.
"Do you think she is a demon in disguise?" one girl whispered to another. "Or a spy from some rival kingdom?"
Selene shook her head. "No. She's just… different. That's all. We survive by watching, learning, and protecting each other. Don't forget that."
Elara sat on the edge of the small bed, feeling the weight of Selene's words. She did not yet know what made her different, but she felt it in the way the palace seemed to shift around her presence, in the way Liora's gaze followed her like a hawk.
The day passed in a blur of instructions: sweeping floors, polishing armor, arranging the King's documents. Every task tested her precision, and every glance from Liora reminded her that survival here demanded more than obedience — it demanded wit, observation, and courage.
By the time the sun dipped behind the palace towers, casting long crimson shadows across the obsidian floor, Elara allowed herself a small breath of relief. She had survived her first day.
But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.
The palace held secrets, and the King's eyes had already marked her.