Chapter 36: Don't look for sympathy

"And?" The matron asked, her purple eyes flickering bright for a second.

Eve gulped, taking a step back cautiously. "Nothing." She said, lowering her head.

Her mind whirled with questions as she followed the older woman, her eyes glued to the edge of the witch's dark green robe that fluttered as she walked, or rather slid across the corridor at a pace that Eve was finding hard to keep up with.

"Keep your eyes open. You have to remember the way to his room since you'll be working there from today." The matron said, making her look up immediately.

Him? She couldn't possibly be talking about-

"The regent likes his room neat and tidy," The matron continued, ignorant to her shock, "so make sure that you don't leave even a speck of dirt when you're done."

The regent. Nikolai Morozov. The last of his line. The man who had watched her commit treason without making a sound. The man whose face had been imprinted into her head since the day she had met him- that man who was making her nervous with every move of his.

She looked down at the moisture that gathered on the insides of her palm. How was she going to work for him when the very thought of him made her nervous?

"Ahh, I see." She murmured, climbing the long winding stairs absentmindedly.

And so, she did not notice when the witch had stopped. Eve let out a gasp as she banged her head onto the woman's shoulder blade. Her eyes grew wide as she stepped back hastily, cursing under her breath. Now she was truly done for. The wall it was.

"Yes, matron." The matron's voice was devoid of any emotion.

"What?" Eve asked, confused at the woman's words.

The older woman sighed, turning to her with a frown that deepened the wrinkles on her caramel skin. "You say, yes matron- not I see." She said, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing at her as she continued, "Did your mother not teach you any manners, child?"

Eve looked down, a sharp sting suddenly poking at her heart. She felt her eyes burn with the warning of pooling tears. Of course, this was a question that she had never faced in her entire life. A question that somehow managed to tear through the fabric of her composure.

Everyone in her small village knew everything about her and her poor family. So when the question finally came, she felt the emptiness in her heart resurface- the void that grew in the absence of her dear mother. Eve clenched her teeth, willing her tears to retreat as she kept her eyes down at her naked feet on the white marble floor.

"I haven't seen her since I was five." She murmured, her fingers closing into fists at her sides.

The matron's hand dropped from the decorated golden handle on the door before her, hovering in the air in hesitation. Her broad shoulders slightly sagged, noticeable only to those with a keen eye. Her eyes softened for the briefest of seconds before hardened by an ice-cold expression.

"Don't look for sympathy in this palace. Or you might end up as someone's dinner and cause me trouble." She said, turning towards the slave. "Do you understand?"

Eve nodded, swallowing her emotions whole. "I never asked for it, matron." She replied, looking at the woman straight in her eyes.

"Good." The witch said, nodding her head approvingly. She pushed the doors open, walking quickly inside, motioning at her to follow.

Eve sniffled, wiping her nose with the edge of her sleeve as she quickly glanced behind at the long marble stairway that she had climbed absentmindedly.

The corridor that she was standing in was long and grand, the cold white marble flooring covered by yards of plush cashmere cream-colored carpet that had golden seams winding through it, making leaves wither and bloom throughout its breadth, matching the intricately painted details of the wall that hosted at least a few huge carved wooden doors throughout its length.

The corridor ended where another flight of marble stairs started, leading upstairs. She wondered who stayed in all those rooms, given that these parts of the palace were clearly off-limits to the servants and the slaves. Would the king be staying in one of those rooms?

"You should open the curtains only after sunset." The matron's voice echoed from inside the room, reminding her of the task at hand.

"Why?" Eve asked, stepping into the regent's room, her eyes taking in every detail of the lavishly decorated area.

The regent's room was thrice the size of her old shabby house at St Yvon with a high domed ceiling and tall glass windows covered by thick black drapes that let in the least amount of sunlight into the room. She could make out the vague outline of the gold-lined shelves that stood on all three sides of the room.

Her mouth slightly parted as her eyes took in what was a massive library. A plush diwan stood on one end of the room, facing one of the shelves while a lone winged chair accompanied a massive wooden table on the other end, adjacent to a window. The smell of books filled her senses, filling her with a strange sense of warmth.

The Tarleton's library was nothing compared to this, she thought, her eyes trailing up the decks of shelves that crawled up the walls. She spotted a long ladder leaning against one of the shelves, her mind elated by the sight before her. If staying in here was her chore, then she was more than willing to be a slave at Nightwell Hold, Eve thought to herself.

"Clean only when he is not in the room and leave once he enters it." The matron said, ignoring her question. "Remember that your existence shouldn't cause any inconvenience to our lord."

"Yes, matron," Eve said, bowing respectfully as she suppressed a smile.

"Good. Here's the rag." The witch said, throwing a piece of cloth towards her that she was sure was not with her when they had walked in. "You can start from that corner."

Eve caught the cloth, feeling the soft material of the silk in her hands in awe. "I have a-" She hadn't finished the sentence when the door slammed shut behind her. The matron was gone. "..question." She said, staring at the closed doors with wide eyes.