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The kingdom of Sylora was beautiful as it was cut throat. You needed connections to survive. Sehren Holde learned that firsthand today, one month of her father's death day.
Mistress Brenna crossed her arms and looked Sehren up and down with a sneer.
"Well, girl, it seems like you've got yourself a guardian angel in high places. Word has it Lord W wants you to stay on here. Some people would say it's good fortune to have friends like that."
Sehren with eyes downcast said in a steady voice, "Thank you. I didn't know where else to go,"
"Don't thank me, I had nothing to do with it. In my time, we were selected based on our quality and not connections,"
Being slighted so brazenly was something she had never experienced before. Her father was well liked, and had many friends. Who knew everyone's behavior would take such a drastic turn after his death. She involuntarily insisted, "I didn't ask for any favors,"
"Oh, I know you didn't ask for it, but that doesn't change the fact that you've been handed a favor. Plenty of orphans out there don't get work handed to them on a silver platter. Not just because their father was friends with a lord."
Mistress Brenna circled Sehren slowly, her eyes narrowing with each step.
"So, you've got two choices. The kitchen, where you'll be peeling vegetables, scrubbing pots, and working with the rest of the lot. Or, if you think you're too delicate for that, you can work up in the princess's palace."
A flash of surprise crossed Sehren's face. "I'll serve the princess?"
Brienne barked a wild laughter and shook her head.
"Oh no, don't get ahead of yourself. You'll clean up after her ladies-in-waiting, maybe. Sweep the floors, polish the silver, wash linens-nothing that'll bring you within a mile of the princess. You'll be a maid, not a lady."
Sehren clasped her hands together, her knuckles paled as she tightened her grip.
"I understand. I'll choose the palace."
Brienne raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Of course you would. Fine, then. But mark my words, girl-just because Lord W likes you doesn't mean you'll get any special treatment from me. You'll work hard, or you'll be gone. Your father isn't here to protect you anymore."
"I'll have Sebil show you your work. Stand right there and don't move,"
Mistress Brenna left Sehren feeling cold and empty. Her stomach felt heavy and her arms tingled with apprehension. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. This isn't what it was supposed to be like. Father had told her that he would always be there for her. He should've been here. He shouldn't have left her alone. The only memory of her father was that of his stiff gray sunken face with his mouth hanging limply open and his arms cold hanging over the edge of the bed.
Why can't I even remember his voice? She clenched her dress tighter and forbade herself from crying.
Father had left behind at least one lifeline for her. Lord W was someone her father had trusted with her care. And he had taken care to find work and lodgings for her. She felt she should thank him for his generosity. But she did not really feel grateful. My house is not my own anymore, and I have to live among strangers now. She thought solemnly.
Sebil, a younger servant girl, entered the room and glanced nervously at Sehren, nodding toward the door.
"Come on. I'll show you where you'll be working." She had a quiet voice. And the rasp in it, added to the peculiarity.
They walked through narrow corridors, the stone walls of the palace cold and damp.
"Best you don't get in Mistress Brenna's way. She doesn't take kindly to those who... well, didn't exactly climb the ranks. I heard about your father though-he was well-liked."
Sehren noded, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
"This place... it's a world of its own. Stay out of sight of the princess and the ladies when you can. They don't like us mingling in their affairs." She gave Sehren a sidelong glance. "You'll hear a lot of things here."
"What kind of things?"
Sebil leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a whisper.
"Rumor has it that some of the nobles-those loyal to the crown say the new alliance with Ashengord isn't as happy as it seems. You didn't hear it from me, but some of the older nobles think the king should have married the princess to a local noble, not a foreign prince."
As they reached the servant quarters, Sebil pointed to a small room filled with cleaning supplies.
"This is where you'll get everything. Keep to your tasks, and no one will bother you. You'll be tending to the rooms here. These are usually unoccupied. The ladies-in-waiting and the princess stay in the western wing of the palace, but you'll never have to go there."
As Sebil led Sehren through the palace halls, they passed by a large dining room with tall glass windows.
The sound of music and laughter spilled out, drawing Sehren's attention. She slowed her pace, peeking through the doorway. The beautiful women adorned in fine silk and jewels, sat at the table, their heads thrown back in laughter, glasses of wine in hand. The soft melodies of a harp playing in the background, filling the room with an air of opulence.
Sehren's gaze lingered on the scene, her heart heavy.
This world... it's so far from the stables. There, we were all equal, whether noble or commoner, when we rode. Here, I don't belong.
Sebil pulled her away gently.
"Come on. They'll never let you in there."
Sehren took one last look at the room before following Sebil down the hall.
What Sehren learned over the following days working in the palace was that the servants were well fed and clothed but they weren't allowed much free time to go outside the palace gates. They were allowed two days of leave in a month to go out and visit family, but if you didn't have family you couldn't go. Mistress Brenna decided who could go and who would stay. And Sehren was most definitely not allowed to loiter anywhere outside the palace. She was not even allowed to go to the garden or the King's palace in another section of the complex. She hadn't got the chance to ask about her wages but according to Sebil, who, as Sehren soon discovered, loved to gossip, wages were determined by Mistress Brenna and at least in that regard they were not frugal. They were paid very well indeed but most servants had their wages withdrawn by their family before the month was out and so they never saw it accumulate themselves.
"You are lucky. You don't have a father or mother to take your wages from you. And you don't have a beat up old wine-drunk brother depending on you to provide his next drink."
Sebil could be quite insensitive but at least she was friendly and spoke to Sehren occasionally. The others working in the palace only moved amongst their own circles. Most of them had known each other for years, and such cliques were hard to infiltrate. Sehren didn't even bother.
During the night Sehren shared a bed with Sebil. New recruits were to sleep in the 'fledgling' quarters above Mistress Brenna's chamber but because Sehren was the only new one, it would be lonely there by herself so she was allowed to stay with Sebil. She hated it but she kept her mouth shut.
Sebil chatted all night long every night. She talked about the city and she talked often about the enchanted forest surrounding it.
"Arielle's as beautiful as it is dangerous. The Raven Forest's beasts don't care whether you're a king or a farmer-they'll tear through you just the same."
Sehren grew up in Arielle. She knew all the roads into and out of the forest. Her father taught her which way to direct the horse even with no beaten path through. She even escorted royal guests through the forest on a tour on several occasions when her father was alive.
She allowed herself to cry silently when Sebil slept finally in the late hours of the morning. Tears streaked down her cheeks whenever she recalled his warm voice and tender embrace. She only ever knew and needed her father.
"Not everyone's happy about this marriage with Ashengord. Some think we should have strengthened ties with Thales instead. The Emperor himself came to the ceremony, didn't he? Bet that caused a stir." Sebil said one night.
Sehreh wished she could stay in the fledgling quarters instead.
"Princess Giselle was so beautiful in her white dress. And Prince whats-his-name from Ashengord looked mighty handsome too." Sebil continued.
"But my oh my our King..." she said breathlessly, "His Majesty, King Ironhart, oh what a looker he was,"
"Did you see him up close?"
"No but I was one of the spectators from the crowd outside the palace. When the blessed couple came out to greet us. I saw them then."
"But they were so far away, how could you tell that she looked beautiful in her dress?"
"Royalty will always look beautiful. They are blessed by goddess Arielle."
Most talks were of the beautiful blessing ceremony to celebrate Princess Giselle, the younger sister of the King, and Prince Wolvisnam of Ashengord, but sometimes Sebil had genuine advice to give too.
"Watch out for Yara. She is Mistress Brenna's pet. If you slip, she will be the first to run to her and tell her all about it."
Sehren saw a lot of Brenna. She was as spiteful as the day she met her first. She had personally tasked Sehren with cleaning her chamber after being caught bumbling like a fool at the princess' entourage.
"Of course ma'am. I will personally make sure this mistake is not repeated."
"There shouldn't have been a mistake in the first place,"
"Uh-of course, I- I- I'm deeply ashamed of my incompetence. I humbly ask for your forgiveness,"
"Hmm,"
Someone had allowed some gentlemen to walk into the courtyard while the ladies were in a state of ill-dress. This was somehow the servants' fault too. Sehren felt sorry for Brenna then, but later wished her all the worst for making her scrub the cold hard stone floors by herself.
Days became weeks, which became months before Sehren was finally allowed to leave the palace to go outside. This was a mandatory leave for the Autumn Moon Festival, a festival held every year mid autumn to celebrate the forests becoming gentle and calm. The festivities lasted three days and three nights. And all the servants were given leave to join the citizens in the festivities. Sebil volunteered to stay and receive extra pay for her work.
"This'll be money I pocket and not ma or pa," she said.
Sehren wouldn't give up this opportunity not even for twice her current wages. The festival had a magic of its own. Lanterns of every color floated in the air, casting a warm glow over the cobbled streets of Arielle. The Autumn Moon Festival was the only time when the enchanted Raven Forest surrounding the city was at peace. For three days and three nights, it was said the spirits of the forest granted harmony to all who entered its boundaries. Sehren had never been able to attend before. For years, she had only watched from the outskirts, where riders and their steeds gathered in the open meadows. Her father, the stablemaster, had been in charge of ensuring the horses were ready for the nobles and commoners alike to ride through the enchanted forest paths. The memory of those days spent on horseback, the wind rushing through her hair, brought a bittersweet smile to her face.
Sehren wandered freely through the streets, blending into the crowd with her own simple mask. The anonymity of it was liberating, a brief escape from her life of servitude.
Now, for the first time, she was inside the festival, not just an observer. As she wandered through the throngs of people, she was overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells. The vibrant colors of the festival lanterns, tinsel strung across the trees, stalls lined with trinkets and treats, swirled around her like a living, breathing entity. The air was thick with laughter, music, and the scent of roasting meats and sweet pastries.
Children ran past her, giggling as they chased each other with wooden swords. Vendors called out, trying to entice festival-goers to play their games or buy their wares.
While she was walking, she overheard an old woman telling a group of children the myth of the black and white unicorns.
"Ah, you young ones! Be careful as you wander through the forest tonight. There are two unicorns, they say. If you see the black unicorn, your year will be filled with bad luck. But if you catch a glimpse of the white unicorn, oh, your fortune will smile upon you for the rest of the year!"
The children gasped, wide-eyed, clutching each other in excitement and fear.
Sehren chuckled softly to herself. She didn't believe in such stories, but there was something comforting about the old myths—the idea that magic could touch your life at any moment, for better or worse.
On the first night, Sehren didn't participate much, content to observe the joyful chaos around her. She wandered through the stalls, marveling at the intricate masks people wore, and listened to the soft music that drifted through the air. Her heart ached with memories of her father, but being here, among so much life, felt like a small step towards healing.
In the distance, in the glow of one of the bonfires, she spotted a group of masked revelers. One figure stood out among them—a tall man, his mask shaped like a fox, his laughter echoing through the square. He was surrounded by people, drawn to his infectious energy and easy confidence.
On the second night, Sehren felt bolder. She allowed herself to sway with the music, to feel the rhythm of the drums in her chest. The air was cooler that evening, the lanterns casting beams of light over the dancers.
She ventured deeper into the heart of the festival, where the dances were more wild, the music louder, and the bonfires blazed higher.
As she spun with the crowd, her eyes caught sight of the fox-masked man again. This time, he was closer, and his energy was even more captivating. He was louder, a little tipsy, perhaps, but his laughter was warm, and it seemed to draw people in effortlessly. Sehren found herself watching him.
On the third night, the festival reached its peak. Everyone wore masks, and the lines between nobility and commoner, between identities and appearances, blurred into nothing. Sehren donned a mask she was offered by a street vendor—a delicate pattern of vines and flowers. A little girl offered to braid a wild flowers into her hair, which Sehren gladly accepted.
This night, she left the festivities behind to wander the forest like how she did the third night every year with her father. Her feet followed a quiet path lined with glowing mushrooms and soft light from the enchanted fireflies.
She wandered aimlessly, enjoying the quiet symphony of the crickets, rustling tree leaves and squelch of soft earth under her feet combined with the sweet woody smell of fresh rain—until suddenly a shout broke the silence, followed by the sound of hooves pounding against the ground.
Ahead, a wild horse, its coat a deep, shining black, reared up in fear. A masked man, struggling to control the creature, yanked at the reins too hard. Sehren's breath caught as the whip in his hand cracked against the horse's flank.
Does he know what he's doing? Sehren thought.
She watched, unmoving, as the man tried again, only to be thrown to the ground. The horse, in pain and panic, stamped its hooves, its eyes wild. Sehren knew that look—it was going to charge.
In that moment, her body moved before her mind could catch up. She darted forward, positioning herself between the horse and the man.
"Stop!"
The horse snorted, its breath visible in the cool night air, but it stilled under Sehren's calm gaze. With slow, measured steps, she approached the creature, whispering a tranquility spell. It took a hesitant step back, calming under her touch.
She crouched beside the horse, noticing the red welt from the whip. Her jaw tightened as she pulled her pack from her shoulder, searching through it for herbs she had gathered earlier from the forest. Their healing properties were well known to her from her days in the stables.
"You-you saved me." The man groaned.
"I didn't do it for you. How could you hit this poor animal!"
Her fingers worked quickly, creating a makeshift paste from the crushed herbs. She applied it gently to the horse's wound, her movements sure and practiced.
The man chuckled through the pain, intrigued. "I see. You're more concerned about the beast than the man. Typical of a kind-hearted lady."
Sehren, blushing slightly, but irritated retorted, "The word 'lady' sounds like an insult coming that mouth. It's clear you don't have any respect for me or this horse."
The man smirked beneath his mask, "You think so? Perhaps I just need someone to teach me."
His voice was smooth, teasing, and it made Sehren's heart flutter in a way she didn't expect. It was only when she had finished tending to the horse's wound, her hands still trembling from the adrenaline, that she realized who he was.
It's him. The man from the festival, the one with the fox mask. He's the same one I saw those nights before. She thought, her breath caught in her chest.
He was still in his fox mask, but his voice, his laughter, and the way he moved confirmed it was him. Though tipsy, his charm was undeniable. And with his piercing blue eyes focused on her, Sehren felt her heart race.
"Y-You're lucky it wasn't worse." She stammered. Her eyes flicked to his mask. "Why are you even here, trying to tame a horse like this in the middle of a festival?"
He shrugged, "A man has to try his luck every now and then. Besides, I wouldn't have had the pleasure to make your acquaintance otherwise."
Sehren's blush deepened, and she quickly turned to leave, not wanting to entertain his flirty remarks. But he pulled her hand before she could make it a few steps.
"Wait!" He said.
She didn't stop and he stumbled after her trying to follow with his injury. He groaned with pain and Sehren felt guilty for pulling away. She slowed down her steps to allow him to keep up. As they entered the clearing into the town, he plucked a rose from a vendor and held it out to her. The bonfire blazed next to them. He stepped closer, the firelight illuminating the gold and crimson of his fox mask.
"A gift for the lady who saved me... and rescued a horse in need. Will you give me your name in return?"
Sehren's heart fluttered. His voice, the way he stood just close enough to invade her space without making her uncomfortable—it was all too much. She didn't want to play this game, this dance of flirtation.
Sehren said firmly, "I'm no one important. Just a commoner."
Chuckling and undeterred, he said, "Ah, but you're important enough to have saved both a horse and its foolish rider. At least allow me the honor of a dance."
He removed his mask then, revealing a strikingly handsome face. His eyes gleamed in the soft firelight, and his smile—it was disarming, almost overwhelmingly so for her liking. So much so that she couldn't resist.
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Sehren repeated softly, "A dance... just one."
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