Chapter 2 – The First Order
The second morning began with cold.
I woke on the cot, the thin blanket pulled to my chin. The blue crystal light was dim. My thighs ached from sitting too straight yesterday, my knees sore from the stone floor. I sat up, swung my legs down, and felt the imbalance again — shorter legs, hips a little wider, the dress brushing my ankles.
I washed my face, changed into a fresh dress, and buttoned it myself. My fingers were faster today.
I made the bed, wiped the table, arranged the ink and parchment. I prepared the tea, this time using less of the bitter herb.
I was setting the cup on the tray when the door opened.
She entered.
The Demon Queen. Black hair to her waist, red eyes, black velvet gown with silver embroidery. She stopped at the table and looked at the cup.
"You reduced the herbs," she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She took a sip. "It is better."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
She nodded and opened her book.
I stood behind her, hands clasped, eyes lowered.
After a few minutes she said, "Come closer."
I stepped forward, stopping a pace behind her chair.
"Your hands," she said.
I lifted them, palms up.
She took my right hand, turned it over, examined my palm and nails. Her fingers were cool, precise.
"You have never done this work before," she said.
"No, Your Majesty."
"You are clumsy."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She released my hand and returned to her book.
I stayed where I was.
After a while she said, "Kneel."
I knelt.
The stone was cold through the fabric. I kept my head bowed, hands on my thighs, back straight.
She read.
I knelt.
Minutes passed. The ache built in my knees, then turned into a deeper pain that spread up my thighs. My legs went numb, pins and needles prickling my feet. I didn't shift.
I heard a page turn.
"You are trembling," she said.
"I apologize, Your Majesty."
"Are you in pain?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then endure it."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I kept kneeling.
The pain sharpened. My knees felt raw. I focused on my breathing, slow and even, on the sound of the page turning, on the faint scent of ink and stone.
I thought about the man I had been. He would have shifted, complained, asked to stand.
Rain could not.
Rain had to endure.
After a long while she closed the book.
"Stand."
I stood, legs shaky, knees stiff. I swayed, caught myself, straightened.
"Go and rest," she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I went to the cot and sat down.
She left.
I rubbed my knees, pressing my palms into the sore joints. The pain throbbed.
The first order had been simple: kneel.
It wasn't punishment. It was a test.
I understood that.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling.
My knees hurt.
My body was learning.
I closed my eyes.
I was Rain now.
And I had to survive.
---
The third morning was different.
I woke before the light brightened. My knees were still sore, but the pain was duller. I moved slower getting up, careful not to jar them.
I washed, dressed, made the bed, wiped the table. When I prepared the tea I added even less herb, and a tiny spoon of honey I had found in the cabinet.
I was placing the cup on the tray when the door opened.
She entered.
She stopped at the table, looked at the cup, took a sip.
"It is sweet," she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She set the cup down, didn't comment further, and opened her book.
I stood behind her.
After a few minutes she said, "Come closer."
I stepped forward.
"Your hands," she said.
I lifted them.
She took my right hand again, this time turning it over more slowly, running her thumb along my palm. Her touch lingered a second longer than yesterday.
"You have a blister," she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty. From the cloth."
She released my hand.
"You will wear gloves when you clean."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She returned to her book.
I stayed behind her.
After a while she said, "Kneel."
I knelt.
The stone was still cold, but I knew what to expect now. I positioned my knees on a spot that was slightly less uneven. I kept my head bowed, hands on my thighs, back straight.
She read.
I knelt.
The pain came, slower this time. I breathed through it.
She turned a page.
"You are not trembling today," she said.
"No, Your Majesty."
"Good."
She continued reading.
I knelt longer than yesterday.
When she finally closed the book, she said, "Stand."
I stood. My legs were shaky, but less so.
"Go and rest."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I went to the cot.
She left.
I sat and rubbed my knees. The soreness was still there, but I had managed it better.
The second order had been the same as the first: kneel.
But the context was different. She had noticed the blister. She had told me to wear gloves.
It was a small thing.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling.
My knees hurt less.
My body was learning.
I closed my eyes.
---
The fourth morning brought a new task.
I woke, went through the routine, prepared the tea — this time with even less herb and the same tiny spoon of honey.
When she entered, she drank, said "Good," and opened her book.
After a few minutes she said, "Come closer."
I stepped forward.
"Your hands," she said.
I lifted them.
She took my right hand, looked at the blister. It was smaller.
"Wear the gloves," she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She released my hand.
"Kneel."
I knelt.
The stone was cold.
She read.
I knelt.
The pain came, but I was ready for it. I breathed, kept still.
She turned a page.
"You are quiet today," she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Good."
She continued reading.
I knelt longer.
When she closed the book, she said, "Stand."
I stood. My legs were shaky, but steady enough.
"Go and rest."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I went to the cot.
She left.
I sat and rubbed my knees. The soreness was there, but manageable.
The third order had been the same: kneel.
But today she had noticed the blister and given me gloves.
It was a small adjustment.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling.
My knees hurt less.
My body was learning.
I closed my eyes.