Chapter 2

My body trembled under the cold bite of the chains — but the deeper pain, the betrayal, coiled tighter than any iron ever could.

I used to think losing my sight was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

I was wrong.

Because now I could see. And what I saw was a nightmare stitched together by cruelty, silence, and blood.

At some point, I must’ve passed out.

A jolt brought me back — a thud of boots outside the cell door. My heart leapt, then dropped.

The door creaked open. Valentina stepped in, this time without the mocking smirk. Her eyes were hard, lips drawn tight.

“Get up,” she said, unlocking the chains.

I obeyed, legs trembling. Still shackled, she clipped a cold iron lead from my wrists to a thick collar fastened around my neck.

“First rule,” she said, not sparing me a glance, “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

“Second, keep your eyes down.”

She paused mid-step, gaze flicking to me.

“Third… don’t even think about running.” A hollow smile. “You won’t make it far. And if you do? What finds you is worse.”

She led me through a dim corridor. The walls wept moisture; torches crackled; voices echoed in the distance — shouting, crying, laughing.

We stepped into a massive stone chamber lit by thin shafts of sunlight and oil lamps that painted everything in sickly gold.

And I froze.

Girls. So many girls. On their knees, scrubbing blood-streaked tiles. Some no older than ten. Others aged beyond their years. All broken in different ways.

Slaves. Like me.

“Your place is here,” Valentina said, throwing a rag at my feet. “Scrub the bathhouse floor. I want it shining before the second bell.”

I knelt, heart pounding. The floor was coated in filth — muck, dried blood, rot. I dipped the rag in a grimy bucket and scrubbed until my palms burned, until my arms ached and my vision blurred.

A group of guards passed, laughing. One stopped, raking his eyes over me.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Fresh meat.”

I flinched, shrinking into myself.

Valentina said nothing. That silence? It cut deeper than words. Beside me, a pale girl murmured, barely moving her lips: “Don’t cry. They like it when you cry.”

I clenched my jaw, blinking hard.

Was this my life now?

I was still reeling when a sound plunged the room into stillness:

A growl.

Low. Deep. Commanding.

Guards snapped to attention. Girls dropped like stones. No one dared breathe too loud.

“The prince,” someone whispered. Prince Damien.

I didn’t mean to look.

But I did.

He was tall — draped in black robes embroidered with crimson thread, dragging a woman behind him like she weighed nothing. Her screams echoed off the walls.

He stopped before a guard, yanked the dagger from his belt, and — without hesitation — slit her throat.

Her head hit the floor a second later.

I choked on a scream, every bone in my body locking rigid.

The prince turned. I dropped my gaze just in time, heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst.

His voice boomed: “This is what happens to any slave who dares speak when I am speaking.”

The room didn’t breathe. The guards dragged the corpse away like trash.

I couldn’t move. My knees shook; my stomach twisted. I’d never seen death before — now I’d watched a life snuffed out in seconds. I wanted to run, to vanish, to scream. But all I could do was kneel and tremble.

Valentina yanked my chain. “Up.”

I tried. My legs gave way. Darkness swallowed me again.

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When I woke, I lay on a hard cot in a room reeking of piss and vinegar. A basin in the corner dripped rust - stained water. The infirmary, I guessed. Valentina stood nearby, arms crossed.

“What happened to me?” I croaked.

“You —”

She didn’t finish.

A cold, venomous voice sliced through the air:

“How dare you ask her anything?”

A figure stepped forward — a princess. You could tell by her posture, her glittering blue - and - gold gown, the arrogant tilt of her chin.

Her eyes pinned Valentina like daggers. “You’re getting too close to this one. I see it. You speak to her. You care, don’t you?”

“No, my princess,” Valentina said, bowing her head.

The princess turned to me. I hadn’t realized I’d whispered aloud: “My… princess?”

She lunged, seizing my throat and slamming me against the cot.

“I’ve killed girls for being prettier than me,” she hissed. “Do you think you’ll be the exception?”

I gasped, her nails biting into my skin. “I—I don’t… please —”

“I should’ve killed you the moment you were dragged into this kingdom.” Her breath reeked of wine. “But no. I waited. Let my brother have his fun first.”

I clawed at her wrists, eyes darting to Valentina — but she stood frozen, head still bowed.

The princess hurled me to the floor. My skull cracked against stone. “Ahh!” I screamed

“When the prince asks for a slave,” she said, smoothing her dress, “make sure it’s her.”

Valentina’s voice was taut. “Yes, my princess.”

Tears scalded my cheeks. I didn’t want to go to him.

I’d seen what he did.

The princess gave me one last, hateful glance. “No slave will ever outshine me. Never.” With a flick of her skirts, she stormed out.

Valentina hauled me up by the arm.

“Don’t speak. Don’t beg. Don’t cry. You will obey.”

I opened my mouth — then shut it.

My tears spoke for me now.

Because I wasn’t just afraid of death anymore.